Not Strictly Ballroom (DANCE LOVERS COLLECTION #11) by Jem Wendel EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Jem Wendel
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.3 MB
- Price: Free
As the first few notes of the music drift across the dance floor, my heartbeat
slows from the nervous staccato it’s kept up for the last half an hour. I take a
deep breath and exhale, allowing the tension in my body to ease and my jaw
to relax. I roll my shoulders in readiness. Briefly closing my eyes, I let the
rhythm infuse my soul, and break into a joyful smile. This is what I live for.
This is what I’m made for. This is my life.
I extend my hand to my partner and wait for our number to be called so I
can escort her onto the dance floor. The competition has begun.
The next couple of hours pass in a whirlwind of dance steps and costume
changes. From the full-flowing skirts and formal suits of the traditional, to
the slinky and sexy outfits of the Latin American dances, all are adorned
with enough sequins to fill a swimming pool. I’ve been dancing with Julia
for the last decade, since we were old enough to enter the junior
competitions.
We usually place well and have won several trophies, but
never the National Ballroom Championships. It’s the one prize that has
eluded us, and if we do well in today’s competition, we’ll be going to the
Nationals in a couple of months. It’s a path I’ve been on for as long as I can
remember. What’ll happen after that, I don’t know, but this has been the
entire focus of my existence.
We’re on the final costume change, just one more dance to go. I’m
exhilarated, the adrenalin of the moment coursing through my veins. I love
the atmosphere of the competition, the opulent surroundings, feet flying
over wooden dance floors under crystal chandeliers. We’re currently in the
lead and will surely make the Nationals this year. Something has always
happened in previous years, either in the heats or after qualification, that
has prevented us from securing a spot. Usually sickness, or injury to myself
or Julia, had conspired to keep us from them. But this year it all feels good.
It’s going to be our year—everyone says so. It’s even a mantra at home. It’s
Darcy’s year! As if saying it enough times could manifest it happening. I
don’t know if that contributes to how I’m feeling now, but I’m going to
dismiss it. As I walk onto the dance floor for the final time today, I glance
over at my mum.
My teacher and biggest supporter. She’d never won the
final herself back in the day, when she still danced competitively with Dad,
but I know she’s as excited as I am at the possibility of me getting to the
Nationals this year. Some people say she’s a pushy mum, but that would
only be true if this wasn’t my dream as well, wouldn’t it?
“This is it.” I laugh as I take Julia’s hand one more time.
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