Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC Book 2)

by Jordan Marie

  “Yes sir, there might be one slight issue.”

  My hand tightens on the receiver. I will not have anything stand in my way now. It will not happen.

  “That is?” I prompt.

  “She seems to have taken up with a gang.”

  “A gang? That does not sound like Melinda. Perhaps your incompetence is showing again, Donald.”

  “No sir, the hair is different, but this is definitely Mrs. Kavanagh.”

  “A gang?”

  “A motorcycle gang, I believe they call themselves the Savage Brothers.”

  A motorcycle gang? Well, well. My Melinda never ceases to amaze, too bad I’m going to kill her.

  “I expect a detailed report tonight. Do not disappoint, Donald.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hang the phone up and turn my seat around to stare at the landscape of the downtown Manhattan skyline. The different shapes and sizes of the skyscrapers jut and point in a strange pattern which is strangely beautiful. The water in the distance is calm and the blue reflects and shines in the sun. My hands grip tight on the arms of my leather, cushioned chair.

  Finally Melinda is in my grasp. I vow she will not get away this time.

  Thank you for purchasing Saving Dancer Book 2 of the Savage Brothers MC. I hope you enjoyed it. A Wedding Novella will be out soon entitled Loving Nicole and look for more of Claiming Crusher in the summer of 2015.

  TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCITING EXCERPT FROM THE AMAZING MAYRA STRATHAM’S NEW BOOK ETCHED IN STONE

  April

  Excerpt of Etched in Stone, Book 2 of Six Degrees Series by Mayra Statham

  Chapter One

  Liz

  Two Months Later

  Edwards Automotive Charity Breast Cancer Gala

  EVERY PART OF my body aches.

  My shoulders are burning from hand rolling the various types of dough for different pastries. My feet are aching from being on them since three this morning. It doesn’t help that I stuffed them into incredibly sexy peep-toe pink sling backs that Lucy let me borrow, because they went perfect with my dress.

  My hands feel heavy and are probably swollen, but as I gaze at the table in front of me, all I can do is let the feeling of accomplishment flow freely through me. All the aches and pains are completely worth it as I look at the extravagant dessert table in front of me.

  It’s incredibly satisfying to see the fruits of your labor. Being able to mix simple ingredients, like flour and sugar with your own hands and somehow magically they become beautiful pieces of edible art.

  The table is beautiful, exquisite really. Better than I dreamed possible.

  I admire the long beautiful table draped in expensive cream tablecloths that probably cost more than what I’m wearing, excluding Lucy’s shoes. It made my beauties even more beautiful, they were definitely worth the investment. Tess, my business partner and friend, thought I was nuts spending that much on tablecloths.

  Sweet sophistication!

  My edible art is sitting and waiting on beautifully colored cake stands arranged at different heights with accent trays in shades of pink and cream. The cream puffs sit in the center of the table, gorgeous and fresh. While some have powdered sugar sifted on top, others are drizzled with chocolate to add a little more sweetness. Some have a dollop of cream and a piece of a locally grown strawberry sitting on top. The cupcakes, I agree with Tess, she had been right to add the iridescent powder that made them sparkle under the soft lighting in the elegant Beverly Hills Hotel’s Crystal Room. Rectangular trays hold a variety of cannoli. Mini strawberry cheesecakes float at different elevations on the expensive pink tinted crystal cake stands. The two employees that will be manning the table are already standing by, dressed in pastry chef uniforms, white and pristine. They are the perfect finishing touch.

  I watch Tess chat with Laney, the owner of Ritz Events. Who also happens to be the Gala’s event coordinator and they are both smiling. A huge wave of relief sweeps through me, it is obvious that Laney is extremely happy with the dessert table. Our bakery, Izzy Tizzy’s, is making a name for itself in Southern California.

  I love that, at our bakery, we cater to everyone. We appeal to the stay at home mom seeking a moment of refuge, Hollywood celebrities, even to the workers from the industrial side of town picking up their morning breakfast and coffee. However, the obscene price we are paid by the rich and famous makes me nervous. Even after a full year of being in business, I constantly worry that my creations aren’t good enough for the clientele we serve.

  Tess and I have Sabrina Miller to thank for a large portion of our higher end clientele. Sabrina, one of Laney’s event planners, referred business to us from the moment she found our shop. There isn’t a week that by that she doesn’t send a new customer to us by. Some come in; others call to place an order, always telling us that Sabrina sent them. We even hired two new bakers, allowing Tess and I an actual day off. There are times when we joke about Sabrina being our business fairy Godmother and one day, we will figure out a way to thank her for everything she has done, not only for us, but our shop as well.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t realize someone has approached me until a warm finger taps my shoulder. Even the fabric doesn’t stop me from feeling the heat flowing into my body. The warmth lingers on my shoulder as I turn around with a smile on my face. Ready to answer questions, as early guests had already started coming up to me, asking for my business card. I was, however, not prepared to face the most incredibly handsome man I’d ever seen in my life! My smile wobbled at the same time my breath caught in the middle of my throat, as I took him in completely.

  He’s tall. From where I stand, even in heels, he has at least eight inches over me. Well over six feet, and I only really noticed because of the way I had to arch my neck to look up at him.

  He has light, creamy skin that contrasts attractively against his jet black hair. Slightly overgrown and wavy you would think it was naturally curly. My fingers itch to touch his hair.

  His face is a masterpiece. Squared jaw with a cleft in the center, a clean shaven face highlights the flawlessness of his skin and makes me want to feel it, bare against my own flesh. His strong nose is completely masculine, with a slight bump on the ridge that makes me wonder if at some time in his life he’d broken it in a fight or by accident. Either way, it added a sense of ruggedness and of the bad boy hiding beneath the obviously expensive tuxedo he was wearing.

  Every single thing about this man makes him stunning, but it is his eyes that make my heart stutter. The outside of his irises are dark, like rich, thick, black ink. His eyes are light pools of grey mixed with a slight hint of sage green, making them unusual. All I can think about is how I want to memorize his eyes, so that I can duplicate them in paint, they are that striking. But it wasn’t only the color of his eyes; it’s what is behind them, a light that shines through. A brightness children have when they are about to make a wish right before they blow out the candles on their birthday cake.

  At the bittersweet thought, I can’t help the smile that washes over me. In an instant, a smile replaces his serious expression as he looks me in the eyes. The way he looks at me with that genuine smile on his face, makes me breathless. Like some nitwit heroine from one of the romance novels Lucy tries to push on me. I don’t have words to describe how handsome he really is, with just a smile, he literally makes my knees weak.

  “Hi.” I say soundly slightly breathy in a bad Marilyn Monroe kind of way. I immediately want to run away. I’m such a nerd!

  “Hey.” His deep voice rumbles. I feel a quiver go down my spine and out my toes.

  Down my spine and out my toes? What the hell is wrong with me?

  We stare at one another. I wouldn’t have been able to look away if my life depended on it. He is more than the stereotypical pretty-boy that L.A. offers. God knows this place has more than enough of those running all over Hollywood. No. He’s the perfect example of masculine beauty. To put it simply, he really is THAT beautiful!


  “Are you from Izzy Tizzy’s?” He asks, his voice deeper than I would have thought possible. I nod since my mind decides at this particular moment, to stop functioning.

  “Any chance that I can ask you a couple of questions about having a birthday cake made?” He asks looking completely amused. I silently curse and remind myself, that there was no way that a guy like this would be interested in a girl like me.

  “Of course,” I croak out and clear my throat, trying to smile.

  “How much time in advance do you need for a birthday cake order?” He asks, a single dark eyebrow going up slightly.

  He wants to order a birthday cake. I want to sigh. Of course, Hottie McMysterious would want to order a cake, probably for his … glancing at his bare ring finger… for his girlfriend.

  “We usually require at least forty-eight hours in advance for preparation, but we can rush one in twenty-four. Unless you were looking for something elaborate, then I’d stick to forty-eight.” I answer as if I’m on autopilot. At least I can try to sell him something.

  “What do you consider elaborate?” He asks, one side of his mouth slightly tipping up gives him a cocky look.

  “Six tiered fondant with hand piping or life-size creations.” I answer quickly and his eyes go wide, his lips go from a smirk to a smile.

  “Okay. Any chance I can have your card?”

  “Sure.” I walk to the table and grab a business card, not noticing as he steps closer.

  As I turn around, his chest is now an inch or two from my face. I try to step back but of course I don’t lift my leg high enough, my heel catches on the carpet and I begin to stumble. My mind running with horrible images of falling dead center into the table that holds all the sweets that took forever to create and making a complete fool of myself in front of not only the sexy stranger but some of the rich and powerful of southern California. But instead of falling, his strong hands quickly go to my shoulders, bringing my body back close to his. Keeping his hands on me, as I make sure my feet are now solidly on the floor, saving me from falling on the table.

  “Sorry.” “Thank you” We both mumble, his hands holding on to my forearms, bringing my body a step closer to his as he steadies us. Everything happened in mere seconds, so quickly no one probably even noticed. Not that I am going to look around to see if someone had. But as quickly as it had happened, I felt every second in slow motion.

  His grey eyes are melting into my eyes. He is a snake charmer, and I’ve been charmed.

  All this without even knowing his name!

  Straightening my back at the thought, making my face serious, I extend my arms handing him the card.

  “Here’s my card.” I blurt nervously.

  “Liz!” Tess calls and I look behind me to see Tess waving me over as she stands next to Laney. I raise a finger, asking her for a moment.

  “Did you have any other questions?” I ask, part of me hoping he had an hours’ worth of questions, the embarrassed side of me hoping he was ready to walk away.

  He stands in front of me, one of his hands still touching my elbow softly. Fingertips lightly grazing my elbow, heat is radiating all through me, as my brain quickly turns to mush from looking at him.

  My snake charmer.

  “Your name is Liz?” He asks in a tone that means something, I don’t know, and I smile. Not that I’m going to let myself think a man like the one in front of me would want to know my name for any other reason than to know who to refer to when he orders his very lucky girlfriend, her birthday cake.

  “Yeah,” I mumble smiling, trying to ignore the sad feeling of not having a chance with the guy in front of me. He nods, his hand leaves my elbow, and I immediately miss his touch. He looks down at the card in his hand and smiles at me.

  “I’ll call about that cake,” He says and walks away leaving me completely intrigued over a guy for the first time in I don’t know how long.

  Parker Stone

  She is so damn beautiful.

  Her olive skin hints at her Hispanic background, the skin that I want to touch and kiss. Her eyes, fuck her eyes are round, and dark, almost black as night. They are framed by thick, natural, black lashes. She renders me stupid. I grin at the thought, amazed that I have found her again.

  What are the chances?

  I saw her two months ago at my friend’s wedding, delivering a cake, and I had acted like a gawky, nerdy teenage boy staring at the homecoming queen. I’ve never had that happen. Not in high school or college. Talking to women has always come easy to me like it was second nature, but with her, my mind blanks. She’d been a vision then, and by the time I had worked up the courage to talk to her, she’d left, vanishing into thin air so quickly, I almost thought I’d somehow imagined her.

  Like an angel.

  Seeing her, standing in front of the huge dessert bar tonight, I didn’t hesitate to go and talk to her. I probably made a complete idiot of myself, asking lame questions about a freaking birthday cake, but I don’t care. I had to talk to her. I will order ten fake birthday cakes if I have to. I finally heard her voice. I even held her close, the softness of her body and the sweet scent that surrounded her, made me feel alive more than I ever had before.

  My angel finally has a name, Liz.

  Breaking Dragon’s Playlist

  Breaking Dragon Final

  Saving Dancer’s Playlist

  Saving Dancer Final

  Acknowledgments

  I hope you enjoyed Dancer’s story. His story was especially important to me. As a survivor of sexual violence, I was determined to show not the violence itself, but more of an understanding of the recovery, the pain and desperation and how sometimes, it is more debilitating than the actual act itself (at least it was for me).

  It is not something you fully recover from with time. It always haunts you, but there is hope and there is a light. The organizations mentioned in this book do not endorse this book, they have nothing to do with this book and were mentioned to further the story. I fully acknowledge this. Yet, they are great organizations that truly help victims.

  Every 107 seconds another victim of sexual violence joins already frightening high numbers. 68% percent of all assaults are never reported and almost 98% percent of rapists will never spend a day in prison. Those are staggering numbers, because when it happened to me I felt alone, dirty and ashamed. We aren’t alone. We should never feel desperate to end the pain, but always, ALWAYS look for the light.

  Jordan

  Groups available for guidance:

  Rape Crisis Outreach

  National Sexual Violence Resource Center

  *Statistics courtesy of RAINN

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