Jaxon Wilde looks like trouble and writes like it too.

Early-to-mid forties, with a jawline that could cut glass, perpetual five o'clock shadow, and the kind of weathered leather jacket that's seen some things it'll never talk about, he's the guy in the corner of the bar nursing whiskey and observing everything—including your terrible life choices.

His workspace isn't an office; it's a converted garage with concrete floors, a heavy punching bag hanging in the corner for when the words won't come, and a desk made from reclaimed barn wood that's seen more violence than most crime scenes. There's a vintage motorcycle he's perpetually "working on," a police scanner that's always running (research, he claims), and enough weaponry knowledge to make his internet search history a federal case.

But now he's here at the caravan with us - most of the time.

He writes gritty neo-outlaw thrillers because the world isn't black and white, and heroes don't always wear badges. His protagonist, Slade Mercer, is the kind of man who operates in the gray areas where justice and the law don't always align—and Jaxon knows that territory intimately. Slade Mercer (the outlaw/hero) isn't your sanitized action hero; he bleeds, breaks, and makes morally questionable decisions, and lives with the consequences.

A lot like Jaxon Wilde, himself!

Jaxon's stories are testosterone and truth, wrapped in chrome and gunpowder. His characters are outcasts, rebels, and men who've been chewed up by the system and spit out harder for it. They don't trust easily, they don't forgive quickly, and they sure as hell don't apologize for surviving however they could.

His personal deal breakers as a writer? Heroes who never get dirty, action without consequences, and endings wrapped up too neatly with a bow. Life doesn't work that way, and neither do his books. He writes revenge plots that feel earned, violence that has weight, and justice that sometimes comes from the barrel of a gun when the legal system fails.

Jaxon drinks his coffee black and his whiskey neat, has a collection of vintage motorcycles in various states of repair, and believes loyalty is the only currency worth anything. He's got scars—some visible, most not—and he pours every one of them into Slade Mercer's stories.

He doesn't write wish fulfillment; he writes rage and redemption. He writes for the guys who've been knocked down and got back up meaner, for the outcasts who never quite fit the system, and for everyone who's ever wanted to see the bad guys get what's coming to them—even if it means the hero has to become something darker to make it happen.

The outcast way isn't easy, but it's honest. And Jaxon Wilde wouldn't write it any other way.