Conjugal Visits (Souls Chapel Revenants MC #2) Read Online Lani Lynn Vale

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Souls Chapel Revenants MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Conjugal Visits (Souls Chapel Revenants MC #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lani Lynn Vale

Book Information:

Don’t ever, ever, ever go near that boy. Not unless you want to be a single mother at seventeen. That boy is Bad with a capital B.
The words that my father spoke to me when it came to Trouper Aoki didn’t scare me like they probably should.
In fact, they only made me intrigued all the more.
When it came to Troup, there was just no resisting fate when it came to the two of us.
Even at eighteen, when we went our separate ways with the promise to come back to each other once we were done pursuing our careers, I knew he would always be it for me.
And color me surprised when eight years after making that pact with Trouper, we were once again reunited. Only this time in an undercover FBI investigation—me, the FBI officer, and Troup call sign ‘State’ as a military liaison.
Trouble always finds him. You’d do better to run far, far away.
Truer words had never been spoken.
From the time Troup was a young boy, he’d been in some kind of trouble.
So it only goes to show when he winds up in the FBI investigation with none other than Beckham Spurlock, his high school sweetheart, things are bound to go wrong.
Only, he has no idea how wrong until things go bad. Really, really bad.
All it takes is saving her by hurting another for him to see the wrong side of a jail cell.
To make matters worse, he has to live the next fifteen years in prison knowing that his son will grow up without him. And the woman he loves will likely move on to a man that isn’t so much trouble.
Books in Series:

Souls Chapel Revenants MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale

Books by Author:

Lani Lynn Vale



People are so stupid.

-Things Beckham repeats 100 times a day.


“Who are you?”

I blinked at the guy’s words.

“Um, Beckham Spurlock,” I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”

The boy—man—whatever he was, shook his head, and the hair that was covering his eyes swept out of his face.

My heart all but leaped in my freakin’ chest.

Oh. My. God.

My boy/man was heartbreakingly sexy.

As in, one look at him, and I was about to hyperventilate.

I’d just asked him who he was!

What the hell, Beckham?

“What kind of name is Beckham?” the man-boy asked.

I shrugged. “A name my parents gave me, so what the hell does it matter? I had no control of it.”

My sarcastic attitude was an automatic response.

I hadn’t actually meant for those words to come out of my mouth, yet they had.

The man-boy’s lips twitched, and a lock of hair once again fell into his eyes.

“My name is Troup. Trouper Aoki,” he held out his hand.

Reflexively, I put my hand in his and shook it as I was trained to do from birth.

His tattooed fingers wrapped around my small hand, and I was left stunned.

Wow, he had really big hands.

And his tattoos were beautiful.

Honestly, I’d always thought hand tattoos were gross. But his?

They were drawn so well. They were a work of art.

“Are you going to high school at Kilgore?” I asked.

Troup’s eyes went squinty. “Unfortunately.”

“Are you a senior?” I continued.

He nodded once.

“Me, too,” I replied. “At least you’ll know one person when you get there.”

He tilted his head slightly, causing that overly long hair to once again fall into his eyes.

He did the head tilt thing again and twisted it out of his way so his eyes could once again see mine.

“I highly doubt, you looking like you look, that you’ll even be anywhere in my vicinity,” he replied bluntly. “I’ll bet you’re a cheerleader, right?”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s that got to do anything?”

I wasn’t a cheerleader, but only because I was too busy with volleyball to have anything to do with cheer.

He stretched his arms up high over his head, grasping on to the monkey bars above him.

We were in the park, at ten in the morning, and for some reason, neither one of us was leaving, even though the park was starting to fill up with little kids.

“I just think that you’re too blonde. Too pretty. Too… you. I doubt you’d ever slum it with the bad boy,” he drawled.

Slum it with the bad boy.