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Her Accidental Daddy

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

ChaShiree M

Book Information:

I met him when I wasn’t so sure what I needed.

He filled a part of me, that I didn’t know was missing.

When I’m with him I feel……special. Small. Encased in warmth.

It’s so dirty. And I can’t help but want more.

I want to let him lead me….order me…..make me.

He wasn’t supposed to. But it happened.

He became…..MY Accidental Daddy.

Books by Author:

ChaShiree M Books



“Girl what are you doing on this dating site?” My best friend Maggie asks.

“I’m looking for my future. I told you I am determined to find my future husband this year and have babies.” Though I say this, I am less than optimistic given my circumstances. I expected the ‘are you nuts’ look. She has been giving me that confused look ever since I told her my goal on New Year’s Eve.

“I get it Sadie, but what are you doing on this site? Don’t you know what this site is really for?”

I look at her with about 80% of the confusion I am feeling, because I have no idea what she is talking about. Knowing her, it is some drama she has gotten wrapped up in having to do with some celebrity scandal or another. Lord knows, the girl is obsessed with the next Kardashians or whoever. Myself, I don’t have time for TV. I have a full-time job and in my free time I help my momma take care of my little sister’s two daughters. Don’t even get me started on that.

“Maggie, what are you going on about? It’s just a dating site.”

“No, bish. ‘Angelica Monroe’ is more than just a dating site. It’s the site married men go to when they want to have an anonymous affair.”

“What?!? Where did you hear that? You really need to stay off the TV, girl. And please stop calling me a bitch. I told you, I don’t like it. It’s a degrading word for all women. As your best friend, I consider it an extra insult you insist on calling me that.”

“I didn’t call you a Bitch. I said ‘BISH’ which is totally different. See?”

All I can do is shake my head and give her my most disapproving face. Maggie is my complete opposite. She is loud, boisterous, and doesn’t give a rats ass what people think about her. She is short and curvy at 5’3” and 175 lbs, and flaunts it every chance she gets. She has no sense of shame or low self-esteem. I do have to admit; I love that about her. She really is beautiful and knows it. Portraying every bit of the fireball her Italian roots suggests.

I am the complete opposite. Don’t get me wrong, I am short and curvy too. The difference is, I hate my curves. I have worked most of my life to be one of the skinny girls. It never happened. Men always compliment me on my hips and my tits, because those are ample with no way to hide them. I should be grateful to not be a part of the itty bitty titi committee, but all I feel is self-conscious.

My best feature would be my legs. I love my legs. They are short, but muscular and toned. My Puerto Rican ancestry suggests I would be outgoing and full of life. However, life has saw to it that I am full of stress and losing my optimistic point of view.

“Sadie? Are you listening to me?”

“No, Maggie. I am not listening to this nonsense. All dating sites have a bit of shadiness about them, girl. So, either you’re going to help me fill out this profile or you’re not.”

I raise the corner of my eyebrow at her, which usually tells her I mean business. However, apparently at this moment it is not the case. She continues to harp at me about this site.

“Maggie!! Drop it please and keep your voice down. We are in the middle of a coffee shop.”

“Fine Sadie. I’m trying to help and save you the trouble of doing the horizontal mambo with someone else’s husband. Unfortunately, you don’t want to listen.”

I know she is full of shit, but it does give me a moment of pause. What if she is right? I have no desire to be the ‘other’ woman or to filch another woman’s husband. Damn it!! Now she has me doubting myself.

When I turn to tell her to leave so I can finish, I get an itchy prickling sensation going up my neck. Trying not to draw attention I suppress a groan in my throat. Maggie knows all about my reticence with the opposite sex.

“Sadie, why are staring like you just saw the second coming? OOOOH, you finally feeling something girl?”

Maggie is one of the most dramatic people I know. She has never met a celebrity or read a magazine she didn’t call the gospel. However, what keeps me continuing to be friends with her is that she is the only person who has never made fun of me or made me feel weird because I don’t sleep around.

She is also the only person to know that I saw my father in a compromising position with the dry-cleaning lady one day when I six years old and my sister was three. Having a burden like that on my little mind and heart, not sure if I should tell my mom what I saw, if she would even believe me was too much and destroyed my sense of self, clouding me in confusion. In the end I didn’t have to tell her. She found them a day later, upstairs in my parents’ bedroom, while my mom was out running errands.