Home > Not a Role Model (Battle Crows MC #4)

Not a Role Model (Battle Crows MC #4)
Author: Lani Lynn Vale


About the Book

You better watch out for people that bounce back from everything that’s meant to destroy them.

Those were the words that Coreline King learned to live by when it came to dealing with Tide ‘Rook’ Crow, member of the Battle Crows MC, general surgeon, and all-around jerk who lived to make her life a living hell.

It all started in high school when he stopped seeing her as a random girl and started to see her as his rival.

Together, they became ‘frenemies.’ I.e.—a person with whom one is friendly, despite a fundamental dislike or rivalry.

At least, it started out like that.

Everyone always says there’s a fine line between love and hate. And at first, Tide and Coreline don’t realize how very true that is.

Not until Tide gets hurt defending Coreline’s honor, and Coreline has to fix him because she feels like she owes him.

But one night of bad choices leads to a very big ‘oops’ that will either haunt them for the next eighteen years or bring them together as tight as they ever could be.




You’ll watch an entire Netflix series even though it’s slow just because someone says ‘it gets better.’ What if you looked at your life goals like that?

-Coreline’s father, Rock, to Coreline



I hit the ground with a thump and groaned.

My hip smarted and my elbow throbbed as I glanced up at the boy that’d just bowled me over.

“Can’t you fuckin’ see where you’re going, asshole?” I grumbled loudly.

Tide, with his big brown eyes and his shaggy brown hair, looked down at me with amusement. Offering me his hand, he said, “Sorry, Elvis. Didn’t see you.”

I refused his offer of help and pushed up to my feet, regretting the move immediately when the throbbing in my elbow nearly caused me to slip back to the floor.

Thankfully, I made it to standing and bent down to pick up my backpack.

“Don’t call me Elvis,” I ordered.

“Amber?” he jeered.

I wanted to throat punch him.

“Even worse,” I hissed.

He chuckled, his eyes filled with mirth.

“Come on, Amber Alert. It’ll be okay,” he teased.

I wanted to throat punch him.

Two years ago, when I was asked how old I was at a teen dance by one of the chaperones because I ‘didn’t look like I could possibly be in high school,’ Tide had started that awful nickname.

Amber Alert. As in, child.

God, I fuckin’ hated him.

“It’ll be okay when we’re freakin’ out of here, and I’m in Austin, and you’re nowhere freakin’ near me anymore,” I grumbled.

A gleam entered his eyes. “Austin?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, why?”

His grin slid back into place. “No reason.”

I didn’t like the look on his face when he said that.

More so, I didn’t trust it.

“Tide and Coreline,” I heard a familiar voice say. “Why does it not surprise me that not only are y’all late for third period, but you’re also together?”

I turned to see Principal Archie looking at us with narrowed eyes.

I groaned.

I could not handle another after-school detention with either of the two.

I showed him my elbow and said, “Sorry, Principal A. But I fell and hit my elbow really hard, and I was trying not to throw up.”

Principal Adams blanched. “Ouch.”

I looked at what I could and agreed. It looked really bad.

The bruising was already starting.

“Mr. Crow, did you have a part in that bruise?” Principal A asked casually.

Too casually.

I nearly laughed as I walked away, leaving him to answer for his sins.

But the abuse didn’t stop.

It only got worse as the day went on, and by the time that school let out later that afternoon, I’d been ‘Amber Alerted’ at least four more times by Tide and teased mercilessly over lunch.

I was over it.

So over it, in fact, that seeing his face as I was walking home while he drove by infuriated me.

What infuriated me more was that my brother was with them, hitching a ride, and none of them stopped to ask if I wanted a ride or not.

The assholes.

I all but marched my happy ass to my dad’s work after that, pissed off and angry at the world. Or maybe just Tide ‘Rook’ Crow.

I called him Tide. I refused to call him by that stupid nickname that everyone else called him.


That was just dumb.

“What’s crawled up your ass?”

I looked up, not realizing I’d stomped my butt right into my dad’s open bay door, until that very moment.

I showed him my elbow, which had a gnarly bruise on it. “The asshole pushed me over again.”

My father’s eyes narrowed as he saw the bruise.

My dad knew all about Tide Crow.

He knew about all the Crows.

I mean, there was Jeremiah Crow, who was his best friend. Jeremiah was the uncle to all the other little Crows. Not to mention, Price Crow worked in my father’s shop during the summer and sometimes on the weekends when he wasn’t busy with sports.

Dad liked all the Crows. Except for Tide.

Why didn’t he like Tide?

Because I didn’t like Tide.

Tide was the bane of my existence. The boy-man that went out of his way to hurt me. The constant tyrant at school that made going there hell on earth.

Luckily, we had one more week until graduation.

Unluckily, that only meant that I’d have to spend another summer with his brother working at my dad’s shop with me. His brother who always attracted his other brother because they were practically best friends.

But, on the bright side, that only meant that we were that much closer to college. And I was going to Texas State Technical College to become a welder in Austin. Which meant I’d be hours and hours away from him soon.

All I had to do was make it through the summer.

Oh, and the last few days of school.

How hard could it be?

Turns out, not only was it hard, but he followed me to the same fuckin’ city three months later.

Fuck my life.




I solve all my problems by creating three new ones as distractions.

-Tide to Haggard



“Who’s this fuckin’ weirdo sitting next to us?” I asked my sister.

Cannel looked from the soccer game where her nieces were playing soccer, to the woman next to us.

I knew exactly who the weirdo was that was sitting next to us the moment she turned and glared. I also knew that weirdo could hear us, but I hadn’t actually thought I’d know the weirdo.

Yet that didn’t stop me from needling her. Or giving her shit.

Because giving shit was what Coreline “Elvis” King and I did best.

“That’s Coreline. Her sister is number nineteen.” Cannel looked at me curiously. “Why?”

“Because she’s screaming so fucking loud, I burst an eardrum,” I grumbled, sure my little Elvis could hear that, too.

The screaming started again, and I looked up to find number nineteen had the ball, and she was dribbling it down the field.

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