Finding Center
Authors: Katherine Locke
Finding Center
By Katherine Locke
Zed and ballet are my two greatest loves
It took all of Aly’s strength to get them back after a tragic accident ripped them from her six years ago. A long road to recovery led to her return, dancing full-time for the District Ballet Company and carrying Zed’s child. But Aly is slipping. Each day becomes a fight to keep her career from crumbling under the weight of younger talent, the scrutiny of the public eye and the limitations of her ever-changing body. A fight she fears she’s losing.
I’m scared Aly is broken to her core
Zed recognizes the signs, but he doesn’t know how to fix her. The accident left him with his own demons, and while he wants nothing more than to take care of the woman he loves, it’s getting harder the farther downward she spirals. When Aly’s life is threatened and Zed’s injuries prevent him from saving her, he’s never felt so useless, so afraid he’s not capable of being the man Aly and their child needs.
With new life comes new hope. And with their fractured lives already hanging by a thread, Aly and Zed must discover if they have what it takes—both together and apart—to rebuild and carry on.
Book Two of the District Ballet Company
69,990 words
Dear Reader,
This month, Julie Anne Lindsey kicks off a new cozy mystery series with
A
Geek Girl’s Guide to Murder
. When a geek girl finds a friend’s body in her office, she puts her high IQ to work uncovering the killer. Check out this first book of The Geek Girl Mysteries!
Contemporary romance author Caitlin Sinead has a beautiful cover (seriously, go check it out) and a fantastic new story in
Red Blooded
. Peyton Arthur should be helping her mom become the next vice president of the United States, not investigating damaging rumors about her deceased father. And Dylan Torres, a campaign worker, should be keeping Peyton out of trouble, not falling for her.
Also in contemporary romance,
Finding Center
is Katherine Locke’s story of Zed and Aly. Ballet and Zed are two of Aly’s greatest loves, but it will take all of her strength to keep them both in her life. Check out the free online prequel
Turning Pointe
, as well as book one in the District Ballet Company series,
Second Position
.
Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson kept his promise but Layna Blair couldn’t escape her past—now that Blaze is wounded, it’s up to Layna to save them both in Sybil Bartel’s
Impossible Choice
, the follow-up to her contemporary romance
Impossible Promise
.
We’re pleased to welcome Jill Sorenson to our contemporary romance lineup. This month we’re reissuing her ultra-sexy romance that gives us a peek into the world of motorcycle clubs,
Riding Dirty
. Psychologist Mia Richards wants revenge. Her new client, tattooed Cole “Shank” Shepherd, provides the perfect means. She just has to manipulate the felon-turned-informant into eliminating her husband’s killers—members of a rival motorcycle club. The first step, seducing Cole, is simple. As for walking away before she falls hard—it’s already too late...
Riding Dirty
will be available at a bargain price to lead into her September new release,
Shooting Dirty
.
2015 RITA® Award-nominated author Lynda Aicher’s
Penalty Play
is the third book in the erotic sports romance Power Play trilogy. Starting defenseman Henrik Grenick has almost convinced himself he’s happy—until he meets unassuming Jacqui Polson. Fiercely independent with no need for hockey or the men who play it, Jacqui is the
more
Henrik wants, except sex is the only thing she seems to want from him. Can he change her mind or will the one girl he finally loves be the one who breaks his heart?
We have two fantastic male/male romances to share with you this month. Back with one of her popular erotic historical male/male novels, Ava March’s
Viscount’s Wager
, the third book in her Gambling on Love series, will have you turning the pages and then going back for the stories you missed. When a viscount’s teenage crush returns to London, can the men grab their second chance at love or will the secrets they hide tear them apart once again?
What’s life without a little risk? Or a lot of risk, if you’re Sebastian Carlisle. He’ll never live up to the legacy of his dead brother, so why try? Being the wild child in a family of stuck-up rich snobs suits him just fine. Until he meets Micah Burke and everything changes. Pick up
Reckless Hope
, the next title in the Letting Go series by j. leigh bailey, this August!
Last, what begins as a normal rescue mission turns deadly in Sharon Calvin’s
Jayhawk Down
, book two of romantic suspense series Gulf Coast Rescue. ER doctor and army reserve Black Hawk pilot Stillman Gray has nothing but respect for Coast Guard lieutenant Caitlyn Stone, but he’s not the only one who’s noticed her—a terrorist is looking to hijack a helicopter, and he’s decided Caitlyn is the perfect target.
Looking for more great beach reads to cap off your summer? Be sure to check out our backlist of fun summer reading, including
Slow Summer Kisses
by Shannon Stacey,
Monster in My Closet
by RL Naquin,
Sharing Hailey
by Samantha Ann King,
No One Lives Twice
by Julie Moffett,
High and Tight
by Vanessa North and
Deadly Descent
by Kaylea Cross.
Until next time, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
Angela James
Editorial Director, Carina Press
Dedication
For girls with wicked tongues and boys with overflowing hearts
Aly
The best stories I tell are with my body. Even as I ride the escalator out of the Metro station and walk up the sidewalk, my mind’s flipping ahead in the book of my day: pas de chats, pirouettes, grand jetés. I skip warm-up and the first class, and move right into rehearsal. My arms in port de bras, my fingers opening as the music swells in my veins. I breathe right into my first pirouette and when I exhale, my partner catches my fingers in his.
His hand is warm and familiar. It’s the hand that was on my hip this morning, the hand that slid up my body and turned my blood to liquid gold, the hand that held me against him when he kissed me goodbye and promised to be home in time for dinner.
It’s
not
the hand that grabs mine when I push through the doors of District Ballet Company. Someone’s arm slips around me and I’m swept off my feet. My heart stumbles, jolting me out of my daydream. It’s not Zed spinning me around. This is real life.
Yevgeny Sirko, my most frequent partner (in crimes committed on a dance floor), crows loud enough for people all the way upstairs to hear, “The beautiful Alyona!”
I squirm, even though I’m smiling. “Yevgeny, put me down.”
He lets me down and grins at me, toothy and wide. He’s stupidly handsome with his blue eyes and blond hair. Those who don’t think we’re dating think we’re siblings, which makes sense I suppose. Yevgeny’s Ukrainian and I was born in Russia, and maybe somewhere back there, we are related. It’s something Yevgeny likes to joke about after a few too many glasses of wine.
“No, it was beautiful,” he declares, like I had argued with him.
“It was just a morning program for a local TV station,” I remind him. “It wasn’t
Tchai Pas.
How was LA?”
We had just danced
Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux
this past spring here at District Ballet Company. I like
Tchai Pas
quite a bit—it’s one of my favorites—but I’m excited to see the new fall program. Jonathan Calsan, our director, told us in an email this summer that it’d be a broader repertoire, mixing classical ballets like Balanchine’s oeuvre and more modern pieces.
In an unranked company like District Ballet, all of us are the corps and all of us have the potential to be the principal dancers for each ballet. On one hand, it takes the pressure off Yevgeny and me being the center of the program. On the other hand, we are always competing.
“LA was fine. But don’t argue with me. You were beautiful,” Yevgeny insists, following me through the lobby to the elevator. “I’m sure Zed agrees with me.”
He’s still talking about the short piece that I and a few other District Ballet dancers performed. A local high school student had won a contest to choreograph and when the show approached me, it had been an easy yes. It seemed like something fun to do in my time off, and it was good publicity for the company, especially since we’re still getting our feet underneath us. Other than the few stumbling blocks associated with a student who had little experience choreographing before, it had been fun. I’d do it again.
“Zed’s obligated to agree with you,” I tell Yevgeny as we get on an elevator together. I’ve danced with Yevgeny for almost two years now and he still hasn’t learned I’m not a morning person. And he is
definitely
a morning person. And not at all a night person. I’m always surprised he isn’t sleeping between acts on show nights.
Yevgeny checks his reflection as we ride to the third floor. I’d make fun of him if I wasn’t doing the same thing. I still look exhausted. My makeup’s barely hiding the bags under my eyes or my pale cheeks. I don’t let my eyes slide off my face and down my body. Full-length body mirrors are minefields for those of us who battled back from eating disorders. I try to avoid mirrors everywhere but inside the studios themselves.
“I hadn’t seen him in a long time. He looked well.” Yevgeny rubs at a spot on his chin with his thumb. I roll my eyes at him and he smiles cheekily in return. He doesn’t mind being caught in the act of vanity.
“Theater camp,” I say absently, my mind crawling back to the daydream.
Two years ago at the end of this month, Zed and I ran into each other in a coffee shop after four years of radio silence. And since then, we’ve rarely been apart. But summer started and with summer came the summer theater camp he ran at Spring Hill Academy. We intersect now only in the late evenings and early mornings.
The lives of artists, or something like that. A comet past a planet. He’s steady, reliable, quiet, and utterly sure of himself and his path. I’m less sure. If Zed’s a planet, I’m a comet. I’m always leaving bits of me behind wherever I go.
Yevgeny slings a long, powerful arm over my shoulder as we step into the hallway. “Ah, and back to work now. Ready to dance, Alyona?”
“
Da
,” I say, teasing him in our mother tongue. He grins.
When I was a kid, the only place where I wasn’t mute and angry was in ballet class. I was eleven when they started using the word
prodigy
in whispers behind my back. And when I was thirteen, I auditioned for the prestigious Lyon School of Ballet in New York. I met Zed in the audition line there. He read my name tag wrong, pronouncing my name Aly-ona instead of Al-yona. He’s still the only who calls me Aly, all these years later. And for all of my potential and though I was once considered a prodigy, I like being at a small, new company like District Ballet the best.
I actually have
friends
at this company. Yevgeny, Sofia and Yana, Yevgeny’s sister. Friends who get that the place I’m most me is on pointe in the middle of a stage, the stage lights bringing up beads of sweat on my skin, and the sound of the orchestra swelling in my chest.
The too-bright light spilling from the windows and reflecting off the mirrors dazzles me when Yevgeny and I enter the studio. It’s not supposed to feel like a stage, but right then, it does in the best of ways. Heads turn toward me and Sofia scoots over to make room for me at the barre. Ritual and predictability are my other friends.
Yana bumps her shoulder into me as she comes into the room just behind us, her pointe shoes slung over her shoulder. Her reddish-brown curls have been tamed with a scarf and bobby pins. “Hey, you. Saw you on TV. You looked great.”
“See, I told you,” Yevgeny says, gesturing to his sister. “Would Yana lie to you?”
She would. This is what friends do for each other, especially if one of them is a constant slow-motion train wreck. I roll my eyes at both of them. “Thank you.”
Yana says something to Yevgeny in Ukrainian and he snorts, elbowing her. Their joking grounds me just enough for me to remember this is my job. I need to work. This is the first of two split company sessions before pointe class, then rehearsals. And now the instructors and probably Jonathan himself will begin to observe us for casting. I can’t afford to be lazy.
“Hey,” Sofia says behind me. I strip off my street clothes, leaving me in tights and a leotard. “How was your weekend?”
“Quiet,” I admit. “Yours?”
“I finally moved to my new apartment,” she says, standing up as I sink to the floor to start stretching. She puts her leg up against the mirror, straight over her head, and uses the barre for balance.
Sofia danced for the National Ballet of Cuba and defected during the ballet’s tour in Canada. She’s dark and a little curvier than I am, but she has three inches on me and is a stunning dancer. In our little group of four, Sofia and Yevgeny are often mistaken for patient because Yana and I are the demanding ones, the ones who are loud about what we want from our careers. But I’ve never mistaken Sofia for anything short of ferociously ambitious. If it wasn’t for her injuries, she’d be my competition for the lead roles in every ballet.
Then Madison Dahl, one of the younger dancers in the company, walks in with Jonathan right on her heels. She catches my eye, smiles and then says over her shoulder, “Thank you
so much
, Jonathan. I really appreciate the opportunity.”
Everyone’s heads snap toward the three of us, though I think Jonathan’s oblivious as to why. I meet her eyes evenly, trying to quell the surge of panic and defensiveness rising in me. Madison’s gorgeous, with her chestnut hair and her deep-set dark eyes. She’s shorter than me, and thinner, and yes, she’s a talented dancer. But we’ve never clicked and if she is starting fall season like this then that clearly isn’t changing.
I tilt my head a little bit and say, “Jonathan, thanks for that TV spot. It was really fun and I’m glad I was able to represent the company like that.”
Jonathan stares at me, like he’s somewhat aware he’s a mouse between two pissed-off cats right now. He nods, still looking a little confused. “I’m glad you could do it. You did great.”
The door bangs shut behind Lila Petrova, our ballet mistress, and Jonathan and Madison and the game we’re playing are all forgotten. Fifteen dancers scramble to move their bags to the corners and carry the barres to the middle of the room. I take my place at the front of the barre with a clear view of the mirror. Yevgeny, then Sofia and then Yana line up behind me and when I stare ahead at our reflections, I’m comforted by the view of my friends, their familiar looks of concentration, their familiar hands and arms, all of us coming from different schools of ballet. In the mirrors, I don’t search Madison out, nor Jonathan. If he’s here to cast our fall ballets, he’s looking for the best dancer. And I know I’ll be the best. I keep my eyes on my own feet and hands.
I don’t have to hold back the daydream now, and this is the best one I have. As soon as the piano player begins and Lila begins our warm-up, I leave the real world behind and sink straight into my dream one, where it’s Zed’s hand on mine, Zed cracking quips behind me, a pas de deux only we can dance.
It’s going to hurt like hell to hurtle back to earth.