The Dancer Read online Jordan Silver

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Billionaire, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 150002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)

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The Dancer

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jordan Silver

Book Information:

Ex Football star Max Carrington is going through life, playing the hand that life dealt him. After losing his dream to play professional ball three years in, he finds himself the proud owner of four night clubs he won one lucky night at the tables. He lives his life fast and loose, and that's the way he likes it. The son of a single mother who grew up in the Bronx, he's made a lifelong pledge never to break a woman's heart the way his old man did. So to keep that promise, he steers clear of anything even resembling a serious relationship. Enter Annabelle Bridgewater.

A new transplant from Ohio, she's had to kill her dream of attending Juilliard after her father left the family for a much younger woman, taking his money and his love with him. The two clash in a head on collision when the seemingly brash young woman walk into his club looking for a job, dancing on his stage. Max doesn't know why one look at the mouthy baggage conjures memories of his childhood and the mother he'd watched struggle all his life, but he knows there's no way in hell she's dancing on his stage or anyone else's for that matter. Not if he can help it.
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Chapter 1

“Oh you’re here. The new trainees should be here any minute, are you hanging around for that?” I returned the over friendly smile from one of my managers with a hard cold stare until the sticky sweet look fell from her face.

“Isn’t that what I hired you for?” I kept walking towards the back of my place where my office was located. The least amount of time I spend with that particular female the better. Ergo the unfriendly stare. If I didn’t do that shit, things around here could get complicated.

The fact that I was feeling off my game had something to do with it, but also the reality that she was getting way too damn friendly here lately was cause for a reset.

It’s a curse. Every female between the age of six and sixty ends up trying to jump on my dick at some time or another. Even the ones who should have more damn common sense.

This one has been acting kinda territorial lately because I smiled at her once a few weeks ago. I forgot what that shit does to the female population, but I’d thought that someone with her experience would be immune. Silly me.

The fact that she’s married isn’t the only thing killing my interest, she just isn’t my type. Get me, I have a type. Was a time when that shit was laughable. I used to screw anything I fancied back in the day. Okay, not that long ago.

These days my palette has become more discerning. I no longer like to be hunted like game. On the other hand, I can’t seem to drum up any interest in becoming the hunter myself.

For some odd reason my interest in women seems to have taken a hiatus altogether. That shit is so foreign to my nature that I’ve decided to ignore it and let it run its course. I put it down to just plain boredom, something that will surely wear off in due time.

I’ve had my share of female flesh and an eclectic group at that. I never really had a preference. As long as it was clean, unattached and relatively attractive, I’d give it a shot.

From fast and loose, to high society mavens and even college girls. You name it I’ve had it, and had no doubt that I’d be back in the game before long.

But here lately, in the last few months to be exact, my interest in the game has waned considerably. I couldn’t find a woman to whet my appetite if I tried.

To add insult to injury, in the last couple days I’ve been feeling…empty. Like something was missing, something vital. But nothing and no one seems able to lift that feeling of ennui.

Today was the worst. Since I opened my eyes this morning I’ve had this unsettled feeling. One of those things that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know enough to be aware.

If I didn’t know better I’d think I was sick, but my last check-up had cleared me of any illnesses, not even a cold. Sure as fuck something was going on in my head though.

Since I wasn’t about to plant my ass on some overpaid blowhard’s couch and spill my guts, I guess I’d have to figure that shit out on my own.

It couldn’t be a midlife crisis, I was nowhere near the age for that morbid shit. And aren’t men supposed to lose their damn minds and seek out younger flesh when going through that fuckery?

Instead, I couldn’t even stir up enough interest to even look and there was plenty to look at in my line of work. But the harder they tried, the less tempted I was.

Maybe I’ve become jaded after just a few years in the business. Maybe too much exposure to what really goes on behind the scenes had warped my mind.

Owning and running clubs like mine have given me new insight into the world of glitz and glamor. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

From drug abuse to underhanded schemes, I’ve come to see the dark underbelly of some of the most beautiful women in the city and it’s not all good.

Some of these women are at the end of their rope, some are struggling hard just to keep their head above water, and willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead, even down to being exploited.

And some are young and naïve, just starting out in the world and have convinced themselves that dancing on stage is a first step up to their future.

I don’t judge, I know only too well what curve balls life can throw at you, I’m a product of one of them. In fact, when I see some of the females that come through my doors looking for a job I can’t help but feel for them.