Cover Copy
For single parents, life is often more diapers and daycare dilemmas than dating. But for three dads going solo, a little flirting can lead to a whole lot more than a fling . . .
Colm Cleary lost his wife just moments after his son Aiden’s birth, and it’s been just the two of them ever since. Dating is his very last priority—until he spots gorgeous Monica Rayburn on the playground with her little girl. Suddenly finding a woman sympathetic to the demands of single parenthood seems like a great idea—especially if they agree to a no-pressure, no-strings date . . .
Dazzled by the hot “Saturdaddy” who asks her out, Monica doesn’t get around to mentioning that little Emma is her niece. She’s in commodities, not children. A gambler to the bone, she’s going to take a chance on an adult evening with Colm—and worry about the details later. But when their casual connection deepens into something more solid, the truth will have to come out—and both Colm and Monica will have to throw caution to the wind to hold on to a future together . . .
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Books by Maggie Wells
Coastal Heat series
Going Deep
Flip This Love
Love & Rockets
Worth the Wait series
Three Little Words
A Will and A Way
A Bolt From the Blue
Play Dates
Play Dates
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Play Dates
Play Dates
Maggie Wells
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Maggie wells
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Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: October 2017
eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0349-2
eISBN-10: 1-5161-0349-1
First Print Edition: October 2017
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0352-2
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0352-1
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
I married a man just like my father. I’m still not sure why my mother recommended against doing that, because I think it was the best choice ever. This is for Bill, do-it-all single dad who captured my heart many years ago. Your domestic skills only enhanced your hotness.
Acknowledgements
Enormous thanks to my editor, Marci, I love working with you! To Martin, Renee, Michelle, and the whole Kensington/Lyrical team, my deepest gratitude for your continued faith in my work. For Sara, Julie, and all my Super Cool Party People. My life would suck without you.
Chapter 1
Monica Rayburn inched closer to the picnic tables littered with diaper bags and juice boxes and lifted her cell a centimeter higher. The angle was perfect. Her subject was centered in the frame. This was a skill she’d honed during years of after-work happy hours and had finally mastered—the sly snapshot.
A quick look at the enormous play structure mounted in the center of the playground verified that her niece, Emma, was safely ensconced in one of the numerous hamster trails leading from one slide to another. Wiggling her thumb over the screen as if frantically typing a text, Monica tipped the phone up to adjust the angle a smidge. The whir of a fake shutter marked her success. She gave the photo a surreptitious glance as she lowered the phone.
Perfection.
All she had to do was determine if the handsome hunk of a man leaning against the wide trunk of an oak tree was parent or predator. If he was the latter, she had a great picture for the police. If he was some lucky kid’s daddy, there was a good chance she could snag the prize for best “Spotted in the Wild” photo on her friend Sarah’s photo blog. There were many beautiful specimens of manhood in the urban jungle, but few rocked the whole package like this guy did. He was tall, a bit brawny, and sported the right amount of scruff shadowing his jawline. Wavy black hair set off skin so creamy a cartoon princess would put in a call to her dermatologist.
But all those tasty tidbits weren’t what kept her riveted. There was something about the way he stood. Yes, those broad shoulders were touching tree bark, but there was a readiness in his stance. Like he could spring into action at any moment. Like a jungle cat. Her heart did a little stutter-step. She focused on her breath until the pounding organ tripped into a semi-normal rhythm. Judging by the number of drive-by glances he was racking up from the mommy brigade, every woman within a hundred-yard radius was thinking the exact same thing.
Exhaling long and slow, as her yoga instructor taught her, Monica tore her eyes off the man of the minute to run a munchkin check. Emma had made her way to the twisty slide and was patiently waiting her turn in line. With her lopsided nut-brown pigtails and solemn expression, her niece resembled Monica more than her own mother. Melody was
