Single Dads Club: The Complete Series Read online

  The Single Dads Club Complete Set

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover design: MadHat Studios

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  Contents

  JAILBAIT

  Prequel to Real Deal

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Real Deal

  About Real Deal

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  Dirty Talker

  About Dirty Talker

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  Sexy Beast

  About Sexy Beast

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  Sex Weeks

  Bonus Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Trick or Treat

  Bonus Content

  Trick, Or Treat?

  FREEBIE OFFER

  About the Author

  Also by Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2017 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover design: RBA Designs

  Line Editor: Love N Books

  Proof Reader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  One

  Marcus

  Nothing like burying your father in the company of a bunch of strangers. I glance around, taking in the faces that my dad picked as his family. The people he chose over his only son.

  My dad wasn't a complete deadbeat. Vinnie Maloney's dad walked out on him and his mother at five p.m. on a Sunday after stepping out for a gallon of milk and never returning. His poor mother worked three jobs to feed and clothe him when we were growing up. At six foot five and two hundred and ninety pounds, Pop Tarts and peanut butter sandwiches were an appetizer to that kid.

  My dad, George Kent, sounds prestigious, right? Yeah, not so much.

  George Kent got my mom pregnant in high school. They'd been high school sweethearts as far as I know. After graduation, my parents tried to make it work, but having a newborn and no money was like tomatoes to spaghetti sauce. You can't have one without the other.

  Knowing George Kent wasn't her prince charming she encouraged him to leave, and leave he did.

  Five hours south to a town called Climax Cove.

  Now, George paid my mom a monthly amount for me that might not have added up to what the state of Oregon would have deemed fair, but he tried. More than Vinnie Maloney's dad ever did.

  Every summer, my mom would drive me down to Climax Cove to spend eight weeks with my “dad.” Then at the end of eight weeks, George would leave the comfort of his small town where everyone knew him to drop me off at my mom’s place in Portland.

  I stare down at the casket he built himself. The time and care he put into every boat he ever got his hands on, showing through with the ornate detail in what his body now lays in. What kind of man pencils down a blueprint of his casket and executes the job himself? George Kent is—was—a rare breed.

  At twenty-eight, I assumed there would be more time. More time for what, I'm not sure. For bonding? He never was the type. Maybe for him to teach me more about the craft? All those summers I spent in Climax Cove were the flint to the embers that burn inside me to restore boats. Then again, maybe he knew. After all, he left me his business.

  The one passion I shared with my dad was restoring boats. The love of making something beautiful after time and circumstance had done their damage didn't just appear one day. That love came from my dad. At five he had me sanding. By seven, I was using the circular saw. Hell, at ten, I was his right-hand man, next to him from sun up to sun down.

  My dad probably had too much patience. Way more than any dad with a kid should have. He never got angry when I did something wrong. I barely heard his voice rise above library tone.

  He was a quiet man, who enjoyed nights on his deck by himself drinking his whiskey, and watching the sunsets alone.

  “Your father would be so proud that you're taking over his legacy,” Betty, the middle-aged librarian says and touches my arm. Her eyes fill with the sadness that should be wracking me right now.

  “Thank you for coming, Betty,” I say, leaving her with a smile.

  I resented the people of Climax Cove growing up a
nd now I'm supposed to befriend them. Especially if I want to stay in Climax Cove and take over Kent Restoration. The choices are slim for me. In truth, I was a month away from being desperate enough to ask my dad to take me under his wing and that was before my job let me go because they were downsizing.

  “I left a casserole in the fridge at the shop for you along with a basket of cookies,” Betty says.

  “Thank you.”

  A sad smile forms on her lips and then she walks down the hill, her skirt swishing side to side until she reaches her car. I've wondered if she was more to my father than I knew. One thing’s for sure, even if they were virtual strangers she probably still knew him better than me.

  Two

  My dad may have been patient and diligent, but organized he was not.

  I place the nuts and bolts into their respective compartments while All-American Rejects blares from my phone. It’s a menial task but one thing I inherited from my mother was her OCD. I was the only teenager I knew who color coded his t-shirts in a drawer. I'm not uber organized on everything in my life, but things I can control are usually orderly.

  Apparently, my personal life isn’t something I can control because it’s a shit storm right now. Now that I’m moving down here the tornado is whirling even faster and approaching an F5 level.

  Gretchen, my pseudo-girlfriend, is pissed. When I look at Climax Cove I see the possibility to make something of myself—she sees a death sentence. Small town living isn’t in her blood.

  The All-American Rejects song stops playing and my phone rings with the song I programmed for her, “Boom Boom Pow” by Black Eyed Peas. I’m sure you get where I was going with that, so I won’t spell it out for you. Says a lot about our relationship. It’s not like “I'm Yours” by Jason Mraz is blaring.

  I lean back in the old desk chair my dad rarely sat in and slide my finger over the screen.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Marcus, when are you coming back?” She’s excited and I can picture her bouncing around her apartment the way she does when she has too much energy and nowhere to direct it.

  “I'm down here for awhile. I have to get everything in order. My dad's lawyer is coming by tomorrow with the paperwork.”

  We've had this conversation twice. She doesn't want to admit to herself that our short fling of two months is drawing to a close because we’re going to be living hours away from one another. Portland is not a hop, skip and a jump from Climax Cove.

  “Blake just got a gig and they're playing this weekend. You have to come up.” Her voice does that slight whine thing that’s like razorblades to my balls.

  I blow out a breath. Our mutual friend Blake, who I’m pretty sure likes Gretchen, is in a band trying to make it big.

  “That's not going to happen. I have too much to do down here.”

  I wait because I know it's coming…

  “MARCUUSS,” she whines, full toddler like.

  “We've been over this. Go and have fun,” I urge her because truthfully the band scene isn't one I've enjoyed for some time.

  My stepdad sat me down six months ago, as my mom lingered and acted like she wasn't listening. He lectured me about responsibilities and being a man and making a living. How working at the shipyard, fixing boats as they came in wouldn't last forever. He must have been psychic because I was laid off last month.

  Both he and my mom want more for me and it wasn't until I sat in that office being let go, that I realized, I did too.

  “But, I miss you,” she says, drawing me back to the present.

  Aka, she misses my dick. Gretchen loves one person—herself.

  “Then come down here,” I say, a smirk heavy on my lips because on some level I enjoy putting her on the spot.

  “I have work.” Lame excuse since she works as a checker at a grocery store.

  She doesn't want to come here as much as I don't really want her to. We had fun together, but it was never serious and it’s time to part ways. Though it seems I might be the only one who sees that writing on the wall.

  “You could find work down here,” I say.

  Why am I pushing this conversation along? Because you're bored as hell in this small town and this is the only conversation you’ve had that isn’t about how much your dad will be missed in a week.

  “Marcus, that small town has what? One bar? Where the hell would we party? We'd have to hang out with the same people over and over again.”

  “We're twenty-eight years old, Gretch, maybe it's time to settle.”

  That should nail the coffin shut on our relationship. Bury us six feet under next to my dad.

  “Settle down?” She lets out a caustic laugh. “You going to marry me, Marcus? Have me be Mrs. Kent, and we'll live in your dad's house with our two point five kids and a dog? I'm sure white picket fences are cheap down there since they probably sell them by the truckload.” She's laughing again.

  “Yeah, you don't want to marry me?” My voice is straight, no hint that my leg is bouncing a mile a minute because I’m hoping she doesn’t call me out on my bullshit. Rather I’m hoping she’ll break up with me like I want her to.

  Her laughter chokes to a stop. “You can't be serious.” I remain silent, but the silence is overflowing with anxiety on her end. “Marcus?” she questions.

  “I take it that’s a no?”

  Another long beat of silence and then I hear her suck in a breath. “I'm not built like that.”

  Gretchen isn't a bad person. She's selfish and only wants to do what she wants to do, but she's a good person and we've had more than a handful of fun times in the last couple of months. I’m not trying to hurt her but I need her to see that we’re each heading down separate forks in the road.

  I've realized one thing since the opposite sex peaked my interest as a kid going through puberty; if you break up with them, they pine over you, conjuring up some bullshit imagine of how perfect you were for them. But if she breaks up with you, the guilt she bears makes her keep her distance. Hey, I'm doing her and the next guy a favor. This way she can find her real prince rather than wasting her time on me.

  “I get it,” I say, relieved.

  “I'm sorry, Marcus, but I'm not meant to be a wife.”

  “Maybe it's just my dad's death that has me thinking of how short life is,” I add an extra sprinkle of guilt to make sure I achieve the desired result.

  “Yeah. That's why you shouldn't live in a small Podunk town. You should come back to Portland and go to Blake's concert. Have fun while you still can.”

  “I'm starting to like it down here.”

  Not really. She's right, there is one bar, one diner, a small community center and a hundred or so people who keep stopping by with casseroles and baked goods.

  “Oh,” she says, disappointment heavy in her voice.

  There’s silence again, and I tap my fingers on the table, waiting to see how long she'll draw this out.

  “Maybe we should take a break?” she offers and I imagine her slightly crooked teeth biting down on her pink lip.

  “A break?” I ask, like the idea as foreign to me as the fact I'm considering staying in Climax Cove.

  “I see no other way. I'm sorry, Marcus.”

  I place a mask of sadness over me, although she's not in front of me to see what I look like, I’m hoping I’ll channel it through my voice over the phone. My goal here isn’t to hurt her. Just to end things.

  “Okay,” I say simply.

  She sighs. “I guess I’ll let you get going.”

  “Take care of yourself.” I say nothing more, not wanting to draw this conversation out any further.

  “Bye, Marcus.”

  “Bye, Gretchen.”

  I hit the red circle on my phone’s screen and All American Rejects starts blasting out through the tiny speaker again.

  Seems like I’m taking after my dad—single in the town of Climax Cove.

  Three

  After getting all the paperwork sorted with the lawyer and makin
g an appointment with my dad's accountant, I locked up Kent’s Restoration and found the one bar in town, Happy Daze Tavern.

  Other than whiskey, my dad has nothing to offer in the mind-numbing department, and I could use a beer.

  Dodging the two cars traveling down Main Street, I place my hand on the worn handle and pull the door open. Happy Daze is exactly what you'd expect of a small-town bar. Dark, dingy and small. The stream of light from outside gets swallowed up as soon as the door closes and my eyes squint to see for a second.