Sassy little thing, p.1
Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font       Night Mode Off   Night Mode

       Sassy Little Thing, p.1

           Bella Jewel
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
Sassy Little Thing

  Sassy Little Thing

  Iron Fury MC, Volume 4

  Bella Jewel

  Published by Bella Jewel, 2018.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page


  ~*Sassy Little Thing*~

  SASSY LITTLE THING | Copyright © 2018 Bella Jewel



  ~1~ | SASKIA


  ~2~ | SASKIA

  ~3~ | SASKIA


  ~4~ | MASON


  ~5~ | SASKIA


  ~6~ | SASKIA


  ~7~ | MASON


  ~8~ | SASKIA


  ~9~ | MASON


  ~10~ | SASKIA


  ~11~ | SASKIA


  ~12~ | MASON


  ~13~ | SASKIA


  ~14~ | MASON


  ~15~ | SASKIA

  ~16~ | MASON


  ~17~ | SASKIA


  ~18~ | MASON


  ~19~ | SASKIA

  ~20~ | MASON


  ~21~ | SASKIA


  ~22~ | SASKIA


  ~23~ | SASKIA


  ~24~ | SASKIA


  ~25~ | SASKIA


  ~26~ | SASKIA


  ~27~ | MASON



  ~28~ | SASKIA






  To Lance

  For believing in me and kicking my ass to keep writing even when I didn’t want to.

  For this awesome title. I suppose it’s pretty good ☺

  For always making me laugh, even if I occasionally snort.

  For loving me harder than I’ve ever been loved.

  For being the best damn thing to ever happen to me.

  This is for you.

  It’s always for you.

  ~*Sassy Little Thing*~

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.


  Copyright © 2018 Bella Jewel

  SASSY LITTLE THING is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.


  As always, my heartfelt thanks to every single blogger, reader and author that has supported my journey. From reading my books, to sharing them, to raving about them, to being there for me. Thank you. My career would be nothing without any of you.

  A huge thanks to Kylie from Give Me Books for organizing my reveals and blitzes. You do such an amazing job. No matter how many times I use you, I am always blown away by how efficient you are. Nothing is ever a drama. Thank you for giving me so much support.

  A massive thanks to Ben Ellis from BE Designs for this gorgeous cover. Not only did you come in at the last minute, you did an absolutely incredible job. I honestly have no words to explain how grateful I am to you for all the help you put in. I’m forever in your debt.

  A big, heartfelt thanks to Ready, Set, Edit for doing this book for me at the last moment. I really appreciate the time you took to help me out, and how patient you were when my kids weren’t well!! Thank you so much, lovely.

  And of course, to my admin, MJ, for ALWAYS keeping my page running beautifully. I couldn’t do it without you, girly. I love your teasers and your passion; thank you for taking the time out of your life to help this poor girl keep everything running.

  To Lee Anna Dunk for coming up with this super incredible MC name. You’re amazing, thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy this book, lovely.

  And, last but certainly not least, to my loyal readers. To each and every one of you that picks up my books and give me a chance. To the reviews you write, good or bad. To the time you take to make me a better person. You make this real for me.


  You do what you have to in life.

  That’s how I see it, anyway.

  You can either choose to do what makes other people happy, or you can flip them the bird and do what makes you happy. People, in my opinion, don’t take happiness seriously enough. They’re forever trying to please someone else, no matter who it might be. A family member, a partner, a boss, a friend, hell, even their children. Everyone puts everyone else first.

  Not me.

  Call me selfish—hell, I probably am.

  But that’s a choice I made a long time ago.

  I decided I was the most important thing in my life, and I do whatever I have to do to make sure it stays that way.

  Of course, with a name like Saskia, little to no money, an ex-boyfriend in prison—who, mind you, I still love—and a shitty ass job, it isn’t always easy to find inner happiness.

  But here I am, giving it a red hot go.

  I’ve never felt pity for myself, and I rarely take pity on others. You choose your life, do you not? Sure, don’t get me wrong, you might have a bad start, a horrific story to tell, and shit go down that is far from pleasant, but you still choose how you walk your path. Do you drag your feet, feeling sorry for yourself and living in misery, or do you pick your damned feet up and skip down that path, refusing to let anyone knock you down?


  Like I said.

  A choice.

  I’ve had many choices. I’ve done some things I regret. In fact, I’ve done a lot of things I regret, including putting my boyfriend behind bars, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

  Even if it means you pay the price for it.

  No doubt that’s coming for me.

  Sometime soon.

  But, for now, I’m going to keep on rocking.

  Because I’ll be damned if anyone is dimming my shine.




  I look up from waiting for a customer’s order and glance at my friend Chantelle. Not Chantelle with an S, but Chantelle with a C. She makes sure you know it, too. Because, somehow, she thinks it makes a difference. She’s waving, newspaper in hand, face flushed, blond hair bouncing almost as much as her fake boobs. I hold up my finger, indicating I’ll be one minute, and then glance back at my customer, wondering if he’s decided what he’s going to eat yet.

  He’s asked me more than once what’s in every item on the menu.

  I’ve never been known for being overly polite, I mean, I shut my mouth when I have to, I smile, I get tips, I do my job, but sometimes people really just ... piss me off. And, unfortunately, my mouth has gotten me into trouble because of it.

  More than once.

  “The scrambled eggs,” he goes on, giving Chantelle a foul look
for interrupting him before glancing back up at me. He doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes stop on my breasts before he focuses back on my face. Jerk. And he wants me to professional? He didn’t even make it a quick glance, that was a slow, drawn-out, perve on my breasts!

  Not cool.

  “Do they have any form of dairy in them?”

  Last time I checked, scrambled eggs were loaded with the good stuff, including dairy. Usually, at the very least, cheese. Everyone knows this.

  It’s common sense.

  Has he never made scrambled eggs before?

  Now he’s just pushing my buttons, wasting my time, and eyeing my bosom.

  “Well,” I say, rubbing my chin as if thinking about it, “I’m not entirely sure, I mean, I don’t go out the back often, because, well—” I lean down close, and his eyes once more drop to my breasts “—I once caught two waitresses, you know, getting it on out in the kitchen.”

  His eyes widen.

  I wave a hand and snort, standing up straight again.

  “But that wasn’t your question, was it? Don’t worry, I’m like, mostly sure it’s sanitary out there. To answer your question, we use a lot of cheese in our food. The chef just cuts off the old spots, it’s perfectly fine if you do that. I could ask him, if you like, if he uses that cheese in the scrambled eggs? Or are you allergic to dairy?”

  He blinks up at me and murmurs, “No, thank you. I’ll have a black coffee.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, acting as if I’m shocked. “No food?”

  “No,” he grumbles.

  “Oh, well, that’s a shame.” I flash him a beaming smile. “The chef really does put his all into his work, you know?”

  He stares at me.

  I flash him another killer smile and spin on my heel, strutting toward the kitchen to grab a coffee pot. My boss, Hertez, a big scary Mexican guy, glares at me as I fill the pot with fresh coffee. He loves me, secretly. Or maybe he doesn’t and I just like to think he does. Positive and all that.

  “What did you just say to that customer, Saskia?”

  I blink, pressing a hand to my chest. “Me? Nothing. I’d never ...”

  “Last week you told a lady someone once found a hair in their milkshake and choked on it ...”

  “To be fair,” I point out, “she was insulting my hair, telling me it was too long and smelled funny. My hair does not smell funny, and it’s always tied back. She was rude.”

  He sighs. “You’re going to get me shut down.”

  I snort. “It’s their word against yours.”

  He exhales. “Stop telling my customers horror stories or you won’t have a job.”

  I huff. “Fair enough, but that man was staring at my breasts. He deserved it.”

  Hertez raises his brows.

  “Your blonde friend is still bouncing around out there with a newspaper in her hand. Pour that coffee and go stop her from distracting the customers. Her tits look like they’re about to drop out. I don’t need any more drama today.”

  “On it.”

  I take the coffee over, pouring it into the man’s mug very seductively, making sure to lean right over and give him a good show. Glancing at Hertez, he’s glaring at me again and shaking his head. I grin at him and turn, walking over to Chantelle and placing the pot down on an empty table and throwing a hand on my hip.

  “Your breasts are offending people.”

  She glances down at her low-cut top and the bulge hanging out of it. “These old things? Never. I’m fairly certain, by the look on that customer’s face, your bosom is offending people.”

  I snort. “Dirty old men. Ugh. Anyway, what’s the newspaper for? You’ve been waving it around for the last ten minutes.”

  “Well.” She claps. “You know how you’ve been looking for a new job? To get out of here? I found one.”

  I raise my brows. “Do share.”

  “A maid.”

  I blink. “Ew.”

  She laughs. “There is nothing wrong with being a maid; you’ve done it before.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I said ew. Do you have any idea what we maids have to endure? Have you ever cleaned a blocked toilet? Or washed sex sheets? It’s not pleasant. Seriously.”

  “Anyway.” She grins, waving the paper again. “This job is a live-in maid in some fancy ass house, and it pays well!”

  I snatch the newspaper from her hand and open it, glancing at the ad. Full-time. Good pay. Live-in. Owner isn’t there often. Full benefits. All you have to do is clean the house, do his shopping, and basically be an all-round housewife without actually having to marry anyone.

  It doesn’t sound bad.

  The pay is excellent.

  “And,” Chantelle continues, “he’s rich.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” I mutter.

  “We both know it has everything to do with everything. This job might just help you out in more ways than one.”

  I know what she’s talking about.


  My sweet, pain in the ass, awful boyfriend, Enzo.

  Who is sitting in prison because I may, or may not, have shared some information with the cops that got him locked up. Because he may, or may not, have slept with my sister. Whatever. Old news. But, fact of the matter is, he’s getting out soon, but some bad people found out he got locked up and are scared he’s going to talk, so they want their money or his head.

  Considering I got him put in there ...

  It’s the very least I can do to get his money for him.

  Good pay will earn that quickly. Maybe the owner of the house is up for some tips, extra cash for extra jobs.

  Things like that.

  I shake the thoughts from my head because finding your man balls deep in another woman ... Harsh.

  But finding him balls deep in your sister?


  The worst pain ever.

  It hurt like hell.

  It still hurts like hell.

  I should leave him there to rot.

  But, for whatever twisted reason, my stupid heart still loves him.

  I know. I know. I have problems. I don’t deny this.

  I’ve given him six years of my life; I can’t just forget that. Even though I really, really, really wish I could.

  “There are going to be a thousand applicants for this job,” I point out.

  “Yes, which is why I already set up an interview for you.”

  I blink at her, gaping. “You what?”

  “You’ll thank me when you’re living in some fancy house, earning loads of money, and not working for nothing.”

  I throw my hands up. “I’m not even that qualified. I hate freaking cleaning. I only worked as a maid out of desperation!”

  “You’ll thank me,” she says, snatching the newspaper. “This afternoon. Three. Be there or I’ll be pissed.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but she turns on her heel and practically skips out of the café.


  I guess I’m going then.

  God dammit.



  “You’re hirin’ a maid?” Malakai asks, lighting a cigarette and inhaling as we sit around the table after Church, talking about fucking crap that has nothing to do with the club.

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “Can’t look after that place on my own. Too fuckin’ big.”

  “Why’d you buy it then, brother?”

  “Long fuckin’ story,” I answer, holding his eyes.

  He should know by now I don’t talk about my shit. He should definitely know I don’t talk about my family, or my house, or my money, or anything to do with my life outside this club.

  “You know, half the people in this place got no fuckin’ idea you’re loaded.”

  I shrug. “Couldn’t give a fuck who knows and who doesn’t.”

  He smirks. “Hope you’re makin’ sure she’s female.”

  I glance at him. “Of course I’m fuckin’ makin’ sure she’s female. Not havin
some hairy ass dude cleanin’ my house.”

  “Got any hits?” Maverick asks, joining the conversation.

  “Had three already, saw me, ran for the hills. Got another one this afternoon.”

  “You wear your leather?” Koda smirks. “Scare all them bitches off ...”

  “Too bad,” I grunt. “They can’t deal, they don’t get the job.”

  “Most women are goin’ to run for the hills, brother,” Maverick points out. “You gotta know that.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “Likely. I’ll find one eventually.”

  “Let us come around this afternoon. Let’s face it, the next ones goin’ to be a runner too. Let us have fun with at least one of them.” Maverick grins, half his mouth raised in a shit-eating grin.

  “Do whatever you want,” I say, standing. “Fuck knows I need some entertainment.”

  “Gettin’ bored now things have gone quiet?” Malakai asks me.

  “Yeah, fuck, shit got real there for a bit with Koda and Charlie. Been months now, and things are too fuckin’ quiet. I need somethin’ to liven me up.”

  “Righto,” Maverick stands. “Beers at your house then. Let’s ride.”

  I grin at him.

  Should be interesting, at the very least.

  “We should make a bet,” Boston says, standing and grinning. “How long it takes her to run out the front door.”

  “Sounds fuckin’ good to me,” I murmur. “I throw down a fifty to say she’s gone within five minutes of seein’ you lot.”

  “I bet fifty she is polite and acts like she’s interested but never calls back,” Maverick chuckles.

  “I reckon she ain’t scared at all.” Koda smirks.

  “Unlikely.” I chuckle. “But it’s a bet.”

  “Well then, let’s ride. Things are about to get interesting.”


  Indeed, they are.





  I get out of my small, banged-up, red hatch and stare up at the three-story house in front of me. A driveway that wraps around a massive fountain. A grand entry with stairs made of stone that leads up to a beautiful front deck filled with wooden swing chairs and awesome outdoor furniture. The house is dark brick, stone maybe, and looks rustic and old school, like something from a vampire movie or some such thing.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
Turn Navi Off
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Add comment

Add comment