The Swan and The Sergeant Read online

  The Swan and The Sergeant

  Alana Albertson

  The Swan and The Sergeant

  Copyright © 2020 by Alana Albertson.

  Cover Designer: Aria Tan of Resplendent Media

  Cover Photography: Sara Eirew

  Copyright © 2016 by Alana Albertson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Bolero Books LLC

  11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510

  San Diego, CA 92128

  www.bolerobooks.com

  All rights reserved.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Epigraph

  “It is only with the heart that one can see clearly, for the most essential things are invisible to the eye.”

  Hans Christian Andersen, The Ugly Duckling

  Author’s Note

  To instantly get a free full length book, Deadly Sins, sign up for my newsletter: Free Book

  Also by Alana Albertson

  Want more romantic reads?

  Try my other books!

  Heroes Ever After

  Military New Adult Fairy Tale Retellings

  The Beauty and The Beast

  Inspired by Beauty and The Beast

  Meet Grady! But without her love, I’m not a man—I’ll remain forever a beast.

  The Mermaid and The Triton

  Inspired by The Little Mermaid

  Meet Erik! I’m a Navy SEAL, a Triton, a god of the sea. And she will never be part of my world.

  The Princess and The SEAL

  Inspired by The Princess and The Frog

  Meet Ryan! She’s a Princess and I’m a Frogman. If I kiss her, I’ll turn into a Prince.

  The Swan and The Sergeant

  Inspired by The Ugly Duckling

  Meet Bret! Though the ugly duckling is now a beautiful swan, the girl I fell in love with is long gone.

  The Angel and The Rockstar

  Inspired by Rumpelstiltskin

  Meet Dax! All she has to do to destroy my life is to say my name.

  The Maid and The Marine

  Inspired by Cinderella

  Meet Trace! I will never be her Prince Charming.

  Rescue Me

  Romantic Comedy Series

  Doggy Style

  Meet Preston! When it comes to doggy style, he’s behind you 100%.

  Blue Devils

  Military Pilots Contemporary Series

  Blue Sky

  Meet Beckett! I’ll never let down my guard for this Devil in a Blue Angel’s disguise.

  Blue Moon

  Meet Sawyer: One Night with this Blue Devil will make you a sinner.

  Blue Thunder

  Meet Declan: Declan’s back in town. Homecoming hero―local boy turned Blue Angel.

  Se7en Deadly SEALs

  Navy SEAL Romantic Thriller

  Season One:

  Conceit, Chronic, Crazed, Carnal, Crave, Consume, Covet

  Season One Box Set

  Meet Grant! She wants to get wild? I will fulfill her every fantasy.

  Season Two:

  Smug, Slack, Storm, Seduce, Solicit, Satiate, Spite

  Meet Mitch! I’ll always be your bad boy.

  The Trident Code

  Navy SEAL Romantic Suspense Series

  Invincible

  Meet Pat! I had one chance to put on the cape and be her hero.

  Invaluable

  Meet Kyle! I’ll never win MVP, never get a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.

  Rescue Ranch

  Navy SEAL Cowboys Series

  Wild Love

  Meet Chris! She shouldn’t fall for the Navy SEAL next door.

  Military Contemporary Stand Alone

  Badass

  Meet Shane! I’m America’s cockiest badass.

  (co-written with Linda Barlow)

  Father Figure

  Meet Gabriel! Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

  (Co-written with Jane Harvey-Berrick)

  This book is dedicated to my late father, Joseph Chulick Jr.

  I miss your brilliance, kindness, compassion, and laugh every day.

  Contents

  The Swan and The Sergeant

  Awards

  1. Bret

  2. Selena

  3. Bret

  4. Selena

  5. Bret

  6. Selena

  7. Bret

  8. Selena

  9. Bret

  10. Selena

  11. Bret

  12. Selena

  13. Bret

  14. Selena

  15. Bret

  16. Selena

  17. Bret

  18. Bret

  19. Selena

  20. Selena

  21. Bret

  22. Bret

  23. Selena

  24. Bret

  25. Selena

  26. Bret

  27. Selena

  Finale

  The Angel & The Rockstar

  About Alana

  Acknowledgments

  The Swan and The Sergeant

  $50,000 to appear on Dancing with the Stars.

  $50,000 to humiliate myself on national television, lose my privacy, and become the laughingstock of the Marine Corps. But I can’t say no. Not even if it means I have to face the woman who once destroyed me.

  Ten years ago, reality star Selena Martinez was my dance partner and my girl. Though the self-professed ugly duckling is now a beautiful swan, the girl I fell in love with is long gone. Consumed with being a celebrity, her inner beauty has been replaced by an ugly lust for fame. When our coach offers me $5,000 a week to appear on TV’s hot ballroom dance reality show, I have no desire to relive my painful past with Selena, but I made a promise to my buddy that I’d take care of his wife and kids if he died on the battlefield.

  One season, ten weeks, a small sacrifice to make for the man who saved my life.

  Hand me my dance shoes.

  I’m in.

  (A version of this book was originally published as Love Waltzes In and Swing. This edition has been completely rewritten.)

  Awards

  Contest Awards for The Sergeant and The Swan

  WINNER—Single Title 2012 RWA Golden Gateway

  WINNER—Single Title 2012 RWA Heart of the West

  WINNER—Single Title 2013 RWA Marlene

  RUNNER UP—Single Title 2012 RWA Four Seasons

  RUNNER UP—Single Title 2012 RWA Golden Rose

  RUNNER UP—Classic 2008 RWA Stiletto

  3rd PLACE—Single Title 2012 RWA Hot Prospects

  Bret

&nbs
p; An-Nu’mānīyah, Iraq

  I ripped open the care package from my mom. The contents tumbled out onto the tent’s dirty floor—socks, lip balm, sunflower seeds, a magazine clipping, and a San Diego postcard.

  Dear Bret,

  I miss you very much. Benny asked me to send you this article. I really wish you would consider his offer. Please stay safe.

  Love, Mom

  I swallowed hard. A neon sticky pressed onto the wrinkled page had a message scrawled on it from my former master dance coach.

  Bret, m’boy,

  We’ll make it worth your time.

  Cheers, Benny

  I barely recognized the sixteen-year-old boy in the magazine picture. My shoulder-length, wavy blond hair was slicked back, not shorn in a “high and tight” like my current haircut. There was no sign of the tattoos or muscles that currently defined my body. My golden skin stained from a bottle, not the harsh sun of Iraq.

  My breath hitched at the sight of the other person in the photo. My arms were wrapped around a curvy young girl with long, wavy jet-black hair. The jade Latin gown she wore matched the color of her almond-shaped eyes.

  Selena Martinez.

  But now she was nothing like the sweet, awkward girl I had fallen in love with years ago. A quick skim of the page reaffirmed that for me, revealing a drop-dead gorgeous blonde posing in a bikini with a sultry pout on her heart-shaped face. If it wasn’t for her eyes, I would swear it was a different woman.

  Selena was now a reality star, a complete smoke show. Men around the world lusted after her. But for that one moment in time, she had been only mine.

  I pushed her out of my mind, tossed the article aside, and removed the nine-mil pistol from my holster to clean it.

  Lance Corporal Hernandez walked by me and snatched the page off my cot. After staring at it, Hernandez’s face brightened.

  “Hey, Staff Sergeant, this you?”

  “No, it’s my clone who’s also named Bret Lord.” I slid the rail back on my weapon and began disassembling it.

  “You danced with Selena Martinez? Did you hit that?”

  “Shut up, Hernandez or the one getting hit will be you—with the buttstock of my rifle.” I grabbed the paper out of Hernandez’s hands and smacked him on the side of the head. The kid didn’t flinch.

  “Staff Sergeant Twinkle Toes. Hey—can you hook me up with Selena? I’ll be her boy toy. I love her. Man, she’s smoking. Has the nicest ass. Not like all those skinny Russian chicks on that show.” He nodded to himself with an eyebrow dancing. “Selena’s on my list. She’s Latina, too. We’d be perfect together. What was she doing with a gringo like you?”

  The thought of a bunch of Marines jerking off to pictures of my first love made me sick. “Hernandez, you’re way out of line.” I reassembled my pistol.

  “My bad, Staff Sergeant.”

  I grabbed the article, my pack, and my rifle. It was impossible to get some privacy in the tent. I could sit outside in a sandstorm—even that sounded like a welcome retreat from my immature men. I walked about five hundred feet, then plopped down in the hot sand.

  The red sky hung above me, obscured by smoke from the nearby town. I struggled to catch a glimpse of the distant mountains. Sand seemed to pelt down from the heavens, blinding me and settling into every crevice in my body. I closed my eyes against the sting of the sand and turned my thoughts to Selena.

  Was she the diva the tabloids made her out to be? Even after ten years, I could almost smell her buttery-coconut scent. A welcome change from the overflowing shitters, toxic diesel, and stench of my fellow Marines who hadn’t bathed in three weeks.

  The deep popping sound of shots from a nearby AK-47 roused my ears.

  I stilled.

  As a marksmanship instructor, I could distinguish the sound of any weapon system. These shots weren’t the lighter, faster rounds of my men’s M16s. Looking past the palm trees that peppered the dismal scene of dilapidated shacks, I tried to get a location on the origin of the gunfire. Probably just some insurgents outside of base. The rules of engagement were clear—I couldn’t stop them from killing each other even if I wanted to. And I definitely wasn’t going to endanger the lives of my men.

  The sandstorm let up, and I reached into my pack to grab dinner. Spaghetti with Meat and Sauce was my favorite Meal, Ready-to-Eat, even if it did taste like chalk. Maybe I’d get lucky, and it would come with cinnamon apples for dessert. I opened the box and laid out the day’s bounty: cherry-blueberry cobbler, potato sticks, wheat snack bread, plain cheese spread, lemon-lime beverage powder, and accessory pack “A”: coffee, creamer, sugar, salt, Tabasco, a moist towelette, toilet paper, chewing gum, and matches.

  I opened the cooking bag, placed the spaghetti pouch inside, filled it with water, and then leaned it against a rock to cook. Ha—here I was dining out of a pouch in hell, and Selena spent her days noshing at Michelin-starred restaurants.

  I stared at the picture of Selena and me winning the U.S. National Youth Amateur Latin Ballroom Championship. Selena was now the star of the hit series Dancing Under the Stars. My childhood sweetheart was plastered on magazine covers, billboards, and advertisements. The details of my life back then had faded away from my memory. Being at war made everything a blur.

  I took a swig of water from my CamelBak and downed two anti-malaria pills: one blue, one pink. The Marine Corps assured the troops that they were safe, but I’d bet the pills caused my daily headaches. Then again, maybe the migraines were just from the hundred-degree heat.

  Staff Sergeant Ray Wilson emerged from the tent and sat beside me. Even though I wanted to be alone, I was happy to have my friend’s company.

  “Slim Jim?” Ray offered.

  “Sure.”

  As I ripped the plastic off the snack, Ray nodded at the magazine article lying in the sand. “What’s that all about?”

  I grunted. “A month ago, my mom told me the judge on Dancing asked her if I would consider doing the show. He just sent me a note.”

  “For real?” Ray took a bite of his own Slim Jim. “You’d have to be stupid to give up this paradise of sand and gunfire for the mansions of Hollywood. Your mother does realize you’re a Marine, right? You can’t just leave the Corps and go on reality television.”

  “That’s what I told her. But she has this crazy idea that the Marine Corps would let me do it for one season—like a recruiting tool. I doubt that, but I could use my vacation leave. Remember that kid on American Pop Star?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t he gain like thirty pounds and fail his PFT?” he snorted, and I shook my head.

  “He did. But I’d be dancing eight hours a day—I’d be in even better shape.”

  He gestured up and down my frame with his Slim Jim.

  Can you still dance, Patrick Swayze?”

  “Good enough to teach some teen mom from MTV how to cha-cha. But I’d be the laughingstock of the Corps.”

  “Maybe not. I mean, you are the only Devil Dawg who happens to be a ballroom champion. You could be that all-American hero. The pretty face that recruits a load more boys to join the rest of us here and get shot at.”

  “If you think it sounds so great, I’ll tell her you’ll do it.” I hated the public’s obsession with the “celebrities” on those shows. Young kids who became millionaires for making sex tapes or wasting their days doing nothing but going to the gym, tanning, and partying. Influencers posting thirst traps on their social media. Meanwhile, my buddies and I were out here in hell, dodging bullets.

  I checked my spaghetti. Done. I dug into the warm, gooey meal.

  Ray shrugged. “The only dance I know is the latest TikTok, and something tells me I’d be more of a target for that than I am for being a Marine in Iraq.”

  “Ha.” I had no desire to ever dance again. Once I joined the Corps, I had found my calling. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with my men. I wouldn’t even consider it—if it weren’t for Pierce.”

  Ray blinked hard. “What does the show have to do with Pierc
e?”

  “I promised him that I’d take care of his family if anything happened to him. If I did the show, I could earn some money for them.”

  “Dawg, you’d do that for them? That would be crazy.”

  “He’d have done it for me.” Pierce would’ve done anything for me. He had already proven that.

  We sat there in silence.

  Ray nodded toward me. “Pierce was a good dude. You should do it.”

  My hands were sticky with sweat. “I can’t. I’d make a fool out of myself.”

  “Man, it wouldn’t be that bad.” Ray stretched out against a rock. “And you can go check out your ex-fiancée—she is Maxim’s Sexiest Girl Alive. Even if she’s with that pretty-boy dancer.”

  “Dima? That guy’s a jerk. He was one of our coaches. But I would never get back together with Selena.” Though she seemed sexier than ever, I had no desire to go there, not to the luscious curves of her breasts, the round globes of her ass, or golden waterfall of her hair.

  A relationship between us could never work out. She was too focused on her career—always had been. Then again, I was married to the Marine Corps. I wouldn’t allow myself to get tempted by the fame and money of Hollywood.