Down & Dirty: Dawg
Dirty Angels MC, Book 7
By Jeanne St. James
Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down and Dirty because this is Dawg’s story…
She has a secret. But little does she know, so does he.
With a past he’s not proud of and a secret only recently discovered, Dawg’s life is about to change when a kindergarten teacher walks into Heaven’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club, a DAMC business he’s run for the past fifteen years. With no experience, her dancing sucks but he can’t deny the woman’s determination to get the job and, against his better judgement, hires her anyway. While her girl-next-door looks may be good for business, he’s not ready for someone like Emma to walk into his life.
Emma’s desperate. She not only needs a lot of cash, but needs it quickly. Recently unemployed and with nowhere else to turn, she takes a drastic step by auditioning at Dawg’s club. When he finds out her secret, he’s willing to go above and beyond to help her. However, Emma has no idea how a bearded, tattooed biker and strip club manager can help when law enforcement can’t.
Coming from two different worlds, Dawg’s life needs to change drastically to make things work, but is he willing to give up almost everything he’s ever known for Emma?
Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who like to take charge, this book is for you.
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Emma shut her car off and took a slow, deep breath. She glanced down at her outfit one more time. She made sure to pick something out of her closet this time that might not reflect her day job.
Or what used to be her day job. Before she had been “let go.” Like those words softened the blow.
They didn’t.
She needed this job at Heaven’s Angels. The school year was over, and no one was hiring teachers anywhere at the moment. And even if they were, the salary wouldn’t be enough for her needs.
So, she had dragged out her oldest snug jeans with a ripped-out knee, her tightest blouse—leaving enough buttons undone to give him a good eye full of her cleavage—and yanked on an old pair of heels she found at the back of her closet. Unfortunately, her feet were already killing her and all she did was walk in them out to her car.
She also had given the club manager plenty of time to cool down while she went home, got on the internet and did some research. Who knew that YouTube was a wealth of information on how to strip?
After dragging out her full-length mirror, she’d set her laptop up where she could see it and practiced for the past few hours. Until she was pretty sure she had a routine down pat.
When she came back more determined than ever to show this strip club manager how serious she was, she found the front door to the club locked. Not willing to give up that easily, she drove around back hoping she’d find another entrance. Like an employee entrance. A way to get back inside and beg for a second chance.
As she was preparing herself mentally in what she could assume was the employee parking lot, another car pulled up next to her and a female got out.
Emma scrambled from her car and called out to her. “Hi!” She added a little wave to be extra friendly, to show she was harmless and not some stripper stalker.
The woman wrestled a huge purse out of the car and slammed the door shut, before turning and giving Emma a suspicious look. “Yeah?”
“I... uh... I’m looking for Dawson.”
The platinum blonde gave Emma the side-eye and a frown. “Dawson?”
What the hell was his nickname? Doug? Dog? Ah... “Dawg.”
A knowing look crossed the other woman’s face. “It’s early yet. He’s probably up in his place.” She lifted her chin toward the back steps of the building.
“His place?”
The blonde pursed her bright red lips and studied Emma for a second. Probably wondering if she was some psycho bitch ready to take down her boss. “Yeah, he lives above the club. In the apartment there.”
Emma glanced up and saw a light on in one of the windows. When she dropped her gaze, the dancer was gone and the back door with the sign “Employees Only” was shutting.
“Hey!” Damn it. She was hoping the woman would be willing to give her some pointers.
She sighed, then wobbled in her heels over to the metal steps to stare up them.
She was about to put herself in a position she knew better than to put herself in., but she had no choice. A minimum wage job just wouldn’t cut it. She needed cash, and she needed a lot of it as soon as possible. And the banks refused to loan it to her. She had no assets, no income, nothing.
Not even family to beg, borrow or steal from.
She was desperate, and she was not leaving until she had this job.
She would do whatever she had to do to get her daughter back.
The first step was the most difficult and once she took that, Emma hurried up the rest of the stairs until she was staring at the plain steel door to this Dawg’s apartment.
Taking a bolstering breath, she raised her fist and rapped on the door.
She waited.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
The third time she thumped as loud as she could. She got an answering shout but had no idea of what it consisted of.
As who-she-assumed-was-Dawg approached the front door, she heard a muffled grumble and a curse.
Crap, he was still in a bad mood. That didn’t bode well for her.
The deadbolt clicked, and the door was thrown open.
Emma’s jaw dropped, and she stepped back so quickly she teetered precariously in her heels. Before she could catch her balance, two large hands grabbed her arms and she was yanked upright hard enough to cause whiplash.
“What the fuck?” he bellowed, making her wince. “What the fuck you doin’ here?”
His gaze raked her from head to toe and Emma struggled to hide the shiver that skittered down her spine.
That shiver wasn’t from fear because, goodness gracious, she couldn’t help but do the same to him. He was a big guy, that was for sure. And this time, he was practically naked. Maybe not quite naked. But close enough, since he only had a pair of unfastened jeans hanging off his hips like they had been pulled on in haste.
His dark blond hair was mussed, his narrowed emerald green eyes dark, and he wore no shirt.
None at all.
Holy moly.
Never in her life had she seen a human being with so many tattoos.
So. Many. Tattoos.
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
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