California Snow : Part One

California SnowPart OneDark & Damned Fairy Tales Collection CopyrightCopyright © 2023 Shannon French All rights reserved The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. DedicationFor all the girls who want a different dick for every day of the week. I got you boo. Trigger WarningThis is a dark MC romance loosely based on the Snow White fairy tale. I’ve done my best to compile a list of trigger warnings for readers but I’m only human and some things may not be listed below. If you have a specific trigger not mentioned in this list, feel free to double check with me personally via social media. Violence. Assault. Sexual assault. Gore. Anxiety disorders/mental health issues with discussion of panic attacks. Mention of previous self-harm and non-descriptive hinting at possible suicide attempt. Parental abuse. Mention of weight and certain body types. Insults relating to body weight. Graphic sexual scenes. Drug use and drug trafficking. Organised crime. Death. Blood-play. Forced orgasms. Sexual relations near a corpse. DD/lg themes. Voyeurism. General bad language. Mention of prison stays. Criminal activity such as but not limited to car theft, arson and bribery. Group sex. Ejaculate play and marking. May cause spontaneous orgasms. PlaylistHaunted – Arankai Slow Down – Chase Atlantic Persephone – PierceTheSkies Mary On A Cross – Ghost Spillways – Ghost Custer – Slipknot My Own Summer (Shove It) – Deftones Sweet – Cigarettes After Sex Put It On Me – Matt Maeson Scars – Papa Roach Renegade (Slowed + Reverb) – Aaryan Shah Good Girl – Morganne Broken – Seether, Amy Lee Life Eternal - Ghost Chapter 1RoseThis isn’t necessarily the way I’d planned to spend my twenty-seventh birthday. The sun is beating down hard on the windscreen. It makes the temperature inside the car almost impossible to bear. It can’t be long now, I muse to myself while I stare at the entrance to the South Cali correctional facility. I chew on the inside of my cheek while I watch for any sign of someone coming or going with wide, dry eyes. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to pick up my dad from prison but studying the large grey building in all its doom and gloom, I sure as hell hope it’s the last. My boyfriend, who I lived with in Sacramento, had sent me out the door this morning with nothing more than a good luck when I let him know I was heading out to pick up my newly released father. Naturally, there’d been a few more coarse words exchanged between us, my boyfriend having told me that if I walked out of our perfectly preened house with its painted yellow door, I wasn’t to come back.He'd never wanted anything to do with my family, especially considering what they do for a living and, in contrast, what he did for a living. On some level I understand that; hell, I even respected it. I’d felt the same way, having left home the second I’d turned eighteen and headed right for college with no intention of ever setting foot on my family’s turf again. Yet it didn’t exactly work like that. My relationship with my father was one that never dimmed, no matter the distance. He called me every day, come rain or shine. Even during his brief six-month stay at South Cali Prison.A glint of light from the sun hits one of the many chain fences surrounding the prison, catching my eye. I blink, my eyes watering. My vision clears just quickly enough for me to see the gates into the prison opening with an obnoxiously loud whirr. This should have been a job given to the MC. The prospects were usually the ones doing the grunt work, and picking up their Prez from prison was surely high on the list of honours. As my vision clears, I spot my dad’s large frame as he strides out of the prison gates and onto free land. Suddenly, I remember why I’d insisted it be me to pick him up in the first place. Even if these prison holidays of his were growing tiresome.The sun dips behind a much-welcomed cloud just as I clamber out of the car and walk towards my dad. That walk swiftly turns into a jog the moment his face lights up with a wide, familiar smile. At sixty-two years of age, John ‘Prez’ De Whitte has seen his fair share of hardships, and it shows in the wrinkles by his bright eyes and the permanent tension in his jaw. Standing at a domineering six feet and stocky with workers' muscle, it’s no surprise that he manages to successfully run one of the US’s most prolific motorcycle clubs, even from a prison cell. My dad has the sort of quiet dominance that’s palpable by anyone in his vicinity. The only exception being me.The second I get close enough, he drops his small bag of personal effects and wraps his thick arms around me.“Hey, Ducky,” he whispers against my copper hair, lifting me up from the ground as though I’m nothing more than a small child. My arms wrap tightly around his broad neck, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Once again, he’s free, and nothing can possibly dilute my happiness. Even if there is a niggle of worry at the back of my mind that the next time he ends up in prison, it won’t be just a short stay.He sets me down on my feet and takes a good look at me. Pale skin, a spatter of freckles across my nose which I’ve had since I was a child and the same bright blue eyes as him. It’s been way too