Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
YES, DADDY
Book # 51
HOT STEPBROTHER DADDY
🌟 **One Night. One Connection. One Forbidden Love.** 🌟
Adam
I haven't been able to get the woman from a year ago out of my mind. It was supposed to be a one-night stand, but when we touched, it was clear to us both that our connection was something different. Laurie wrapped me around her finger in one f**king night, and then left in a flurry of blond hair, leaving me wanting her even more now that she was gone.
I never expected the next time I'd see her would be at my father's honeymoon send-off.
Or that she'd be introduced to me as my new stepsister.
But when it comes to Laurie Cartwright, labels are meaningless. All I want is her. Will I be able to hold myself back?
Laurie
I've only ever been with one man, Adam Lawson, but after I gave him my virginity during a one-night stand, the connection I felt and the lies I wove sent me running.
And I regretted it every second since. How can I miss someone so much I barely know?
Seeing him again should have been a dream until my mother introduced him as the son of her new husband. I’ve spent my whole life working toward a singular goal, but now I want Adam, too. Desperately. But how the hell am I supposed to be with him when he's my stepbrother?
🔥 **Can they resist the magnetic pull between them, or will they risk it all for a love that defies the odds?** 🔥
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Hot Stepbrother DADDY is an OTT, standalone Lena Little romance . Explicit sexuality, suitable for those over 18 years of age only - always an HEA, no cheating or cliffhangers
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
LAURIE
I have a hard time recognizing the woman staring back at me when I stand in front of the mirror, holding up one of my dress choices and turning to see all the angles. I look more like my mother than I ever have before, but in the right light, I still look so much younger than I feel.
Twenty-five is such a milestone for most people, but my birthday passed three weeks ago with little fanfare—at least in my mind. My mom and her then-fiancé Craig threw a huge party for me, and I attended, plastering on a smile and pretending that everything was fantastic.
In reality, I’m feeling sort of lost right now, just like I was then. I’ve been staying with Mom in my childhood home, an enormous old-money estate, since a few weeks before my birthday party. It was time to change my life, but it still seemed wrong for that change to begin in the room I’d grown up in.
When I focus back on my reflection and the room around me, it shows a young woman still holding onto the echoes of her teenage years—soft pink walls, fairy lights dangling around the window like something out of a dream I don’t quite belong to anymore. A giant cork-board with magazine clippings about trendy outfits, cityscapes, and some tacky inspirational quotes still hangs above my desk.
Tonight, I’m determined to change all that, to step out of the shadow of the teenager I used to be and the college graduate who didn’t quite make it. I’ve just gotten back from New York, where my fashion dreams crumbled in front of my eyes, and if anything, this house—this space—is my chance to start afresh.
I drop the dress onto the bed and rub my hands over my face. There’s no room for the old version of me anymore, and it makes me feel a little guilty. Having this beautiful home, this welcoming place to fall back on, is a blessing that so many people my age would kill for. So why do I feel so off-kilter?
Maybe some time alone will help. It’s hard not to feel like a kid when Mom hovers around every corner. My mom and my brand new stepdad are leaving for a year-long trip tomorrow, and I’ll have the house all to myself. I should be feeling free, liberated even, but all I can think about is what a mess I’ve made of things. A job in fashion was supposed to be the start of something great, something that would define me, but instead, it just highlighted everything I wasn’t—good enough, bold enough, or savvy enough to make it in a city like New York. So, I came home. To this house. To Charleston. The last place I expected to be.
But feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to get me ready for the evening. I dig through my suitcase, pulling out a few dresses, each one more formal than the last. My mom and stepdad are hosting a dinner tonight, a little farewell get-together for all their friends before they leave.
It’s also when I'm supposed to meet Craig’s son, who has been too busy with work to make any single event they’ve held so far, wedding included. I’m supposed to look like I have my life together. Like the twenty-five-year-old adult who’s seen the world and is ready to tackle whatever comes next. I want to impress, even though I can’t shake the feeling that everyone will be watching me with pity and concern.
Finally, forcing myself to make a decision, I grab a deep blue satin dress, simple and elegant. Tonight, I’ll be Laurie Cartwright. Not the failed fashion designer, not the daughter who couldn’t quite live up to expectations. Just me. Ready for the next step—at least, that’s the story I’m going to tell when I step out of this room.
I glance at the clock. I have about an hour before I need to join everyone downstairs. I take a breath, then pull the dress over my head. It fits perfectly, hugging my curves just right, the deep blue color bringing out my intensely blue eyes and shimmering, frosty blond hair. I frown a little at my complexion—growing up in Charleston, I had always maintained a perfect tan, but New York had washed out more than just my motivation. I’m pale, but Charleston, with its humidity and endless sunshine, will fix that in no time.
There’s a sense of finality as I stand back and examine myself. No more childhood bedrooms. No more false starts.
Forty-five minutes later, with a fresh coat of makeup, I suck in a breath, push my shoulders back, and give myself a final nod of approval. "You’ve got this, Laurie," I say to no one, trying to convince myself. I turn, heels clicking softly on the floor as I head for the stairs.