Dancing with the Single Dad

The Single Dads of Seattle

Book 2

singledad2

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Hanging up your dance shoes isn’t so easy when you can’t let go of your former dance partner.

Welcome to Seattle, the Emerald City and home to The Single Dads of Seattle. Ten sexy single fathers who play poker every Saturday night, have each other’s backs, love their children without quarter, and hope to one day find love again.
This is Adam’s story …

Single Dad of Seattle, Adam Eastwood, knows that dance school is just the thing for his precocious daughter, Mira. She already spends most days twirling around the house in a tutu and tiara, why not pay a professional to teach her how to do it properly? Only Adam didn’t account for that professional to be the Violet Benson from a very famous New York ballet company. Not only is Violet a natural beauty who floats more than she dances, but she’s the kind of woman Adam’s been searching for all his life.

Grieving the loss of her dance partner and boyfriend, Violet is done with performing on stage. How can she go on when the love of her life is no longer there to catch her? Deciding a change is best, she moves back home to Seattle, determined to fulfill their dream of opening up a dance school. It’s not until she’s asked to dance for Art in the Park that she realizes maybe she’s not quite ready to hang up her dance shoes. Would it be wrong to take the stage one last time? It must be wrong to feel what she feels when she’s dancing with Mira’s handsome father.

Adam’s wounds are still fresh from his divorce, and Violet’s dealing with a loss of her own, but somehow they keep winding up in each other’s arms with neither of them willing to let go. But it’s never easy to conquer the past.

Will Violet let fear and grief keep her from her dreams? Or will Adam convince her that the show must go on and dancing with the single dad might just be the way for her to find her happily ever after? 

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Book Status: Available

Excerpt

Her green eyes glittered back at him as he spun her out, their arms going wide, but still attached at the hand. Never letting go. He pulled her back in and she spun flawlessly into his embrace, her back now to his front, their bodies swaying perfectly with the music.

“Ready for the big finish?” he asked, his grin so wide his cheeks were sore.

“Live for it,” she breathed.

He spun her out again, spun her back in, then dipped her low.

The way she smiled up at him made him nearly drop her. If it wasn’t for the song coming to an abrupt end with the clash of a symbol, he very well could have sent her crashing to the floor.

With a giggle that he enjoyed far too much, she raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to haul her back up. He did, and like true performers, they separated and bowed, laughing as they lifted their heads, expecting to get cheers and claps from the little girls. Only neither child was anywhere to be found. The room was empty.

“They’re gone,” Violet said, her chest a flushed pink and heaving just slightly.

Adam shook his head and laughed. “Attention span of gnats.”

They were still holding hands. She hadn’t made to let go yet. Neither had he. A slower song came on and rather than drop their hands and retreat like wallflowers to separate corners in the room, wordlessly, they came back together.

“You’re a terrific dancer,” she said, her hand effortlessly floating back up to rest on his shoulder.

“Nothing compared to you.” He could feel the heat of her body through his cotton t-shirt. Her breasts, although not huge, were pressed lightly against his chest, her hips against his hips.

“I hardly consider it dancing anymore.”

All he did was lift an eyebrow.

“It’s really more a way of life,” she went on. “I’ve been dancing for as long as I can remember. Without dance …” She trailed off, averting her eyes and fixing them to a spot on the wall. She bit her lip as if to keep herself from saying anymore.

“You may as well not live?” he finished.

Her eyes flicked back up to his. Pain swirled around in the golden-green. Pain and hurt, longing and grief. He knew that look well. He saw it staring back at him every morning in the mirror.

“Something like that,” she whispered.