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My Favorite Daddy: A Dark Daddy Romance (Dark Daddies Book 6)
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At my job, there are three unbreakable rules:
I’m an emotional companion for older men.
I know what you’re thinking. That’s not a euphemism for “prostitute.” We talk, we laugh, we flirt. We spend time together. But I don’t have sex with my clients.
Actually, I’ve never had sex at all.
But when I meet Brady Price, it’s like the rules don’t matter anymore. We break the second rule almost right away, and the other two…
His hands aren’t supposed to be all over my body. I should be angry, I should push him away… but I feel a thrill I’ve never, ever let myself feel before.
Some rules are meant to be broken, but not mine. I have these rules to keep me safe, to keep me protected. I can’t afford a mistake, especially not with a man like him.
Brady is everything I’m supposed to hate. Rude, brash, confident, and gorgeous, he’s the sort of man I run from.
But he’s making an offer I can’t ignore. It could change my life completely.
All I have to do is let him be my Daddy. One week, and then I’m free.
By the end of this, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk away.
My Favorite Daddy is an ultra hot and over the top Daddy romance featuring an older man and a younger woman. It has super steamy scenes and some bad language. It’s only recommended for readers 18+. If you love spanking, dirty dominant men, and a Daddy that has to take care of his girl, you’ll love this book!
My Favorite Daddy is a safe standalone novella with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA. Enjoy!!
Note: All my books are standalones and can be read in any order.
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I step down onto my front stoop, look both ways down the street, and let out a breath.
I can feel a weight slowly start to drain from me. It’s stress, all that pent-up stress from the session I just had. My client, a man named Louis, left my work apartment about a half hour ago, and I’m only just letting myself step outside.
Finally, I can let go of all that freaking stress. I know I shouldn’t complain, but sometimes it’s hard. Half of my job is to listen, to absorb as much of my client’s stress as possible, and to help him feel better.
I’m happy to do it. Frankly, I love my job. I’m part therapist, part friend, part companion, and part hooker… without the sex. I know I’m improving the lives of my clients, even if my job is a little bit… unconventional.
I sigh and take a step forward. I hate that I have to wait so long to leave, but it’s for my own protection. I keep my professional life and my work life strictly separate, and I don’t want to risk a client following me home. So, I wait until I’m sure they’re gone before leaving.
Maybe it’s a little paranoid, but whatever. I’ve heard horror stories.
I start down the sidewalk. The further I get from my work apartment, the lighter I feel. All of Louis’s stress slowly dissipates from me in waves, and it’s a lot of stress. The poor man has a lot of issues, and I help him as much as I can, but I’ve been thinking more and more about recommending real therapy for him.
Doesn’t matter right now, though. Right now, it’s time to switch back to reality.
As I head down the sidewalk, my phone rings. It’s my work number, the special cell with a number very few people have. I look at the screen and frown at the private number. It’s probably spam, but it might be a client. I hate picking up when I don’t know who’s on the other end, but that’s part of the job. Uncertainty is always there.
“Hello?” I say, raising the phone to my ear.
The man’s voice is deep and rich. He sounds confident and younger than I’m used to. Most of my clients are in their sixties or older, men that are past the prime of their life and crave young, female companionship, but don’t need sex.
I don’t provide them with any physical release. Sometimes I’ll do massage, and sometimes we’ll cuddle, but it never, ever goes further. I make sure that’s clear up front before getting involved with someone new.
I’m an emotional companion. People probably think I’m a prostitute, but really, I’m more like a paid girlfriend. I listen to their problems, talk to them, make them laugh, go on dates with them. I make them feel wanted and needed and important.
I don’t fuck them. They have wives and girlfriends for that.
What I provide is more subtle… more difficult. I give them validation. I make them feel heard, important, loved. Sex is easy and cheap. What I do takes serious patience and understanding.
At least that’s what I tell myself. Who knows how hard it really is. I mean, maybe anyone could dive in and be a decent companion, I don’t know.
“Am I speaking with Aria?”
I bite my lip. “That’s me,” I say. “Who am I speaking with?”
I’m tempted to hang up the phone. I rarely deal with people I don’t know. My clients are entirely by invite only. I’ll only take a new client if he’s vetted and recommended by a current, trusted client.
And I never get a call that I’m not expecting.
“My name is Brady Price,” he says. “And I’m very interested in meeting with you.”
I stop walking and look at the traffic passing in the street. I don’t know the name and I don’t recall any of my clients mentioning a new recommendation. I have no clue who this man is or how he got my number, and frankly, I’m a little annoyed.
“No, thank you,” I say. “I don’t know who gave you this number, but forget you have it. Goodbye.”
“Wait,” he says quickly. “Michael Leach is my friend. He said you were looking for new clients.”
I narrow my eyes and cross one arm over my chest. I know Michael. I’ve been seeing him on and off for a couple of years now. He’s been a good, loyal client of mine, although he’s never recommended someone new before.
“Michael gave you my number,” I repeat.
“Yes,” Brady says.
“He’s supposed to tell me about you before you call me out of the blue,” I say.
“I didn’t know that,” he answers. “I assumed he was following the rules.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Price?”
“I’d like to meet you,” he says. “Maybe we could get coffee today? Say, at La Colombe in a few hours?”