Dani Wyatt – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Dani Wyatt – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:51 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Dani Wyatt – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Step-Kink (Wanting What’s Wrong #11) Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/step-kink-wanting-whats-wrong-11-read-online-dani-wyatt Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:51 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/step-kink-wanting-whats-wrong-11-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Forbidden, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Dani Wyatt Series: Wanting What's Wrong Series by Dani Wyatt
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

He has the face of my father, but his hands are all his.
Rye McAllister is my dad's twin brother. He took me to my first thrift store, named a bonsai tree after me, and was always there at Sunday brunch.

Now Dad's in rehab, Mom’s a mess, I have the tryout of a lifetime coming up, and Rye's sleeping down the hall as my stand-in father figure.

And I am not okay.

When my friends drag me to a bachelorette weekend, I’m expecting chocolate dildos and too much tequila, not a private kink club for Truth or Dare night. And, because God hates me specifically, guess who’s there? Uncle Rye.

Things go from awkward to holy sh*t when he slaps a collar on my neck and takes all my dares for himself.
So, what do I do? I bolt. Because I’m the good girl that holds the family together by being, well… perfect.
The McAllister Clan is coming apart. But will love be enough to put the pieces back together?

Author's This filthy little bachelorette-gone-wrong features a 6'5" step-uncle with his twin brother's face and an obsession with a sweet, tiny dancer that is 100% off limits. Safe, no cheating, with a hero who tracks her iPhone like a love language. He looks like her dad, but being her Daddy is what he was born for

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

Elodie

How am I going to spend two weeks in the same house with the man I can't stop thinking about? A man who, incidentally, looks exactly like my father?

It's just so wrong.

Here I am, scrolling through my phone, looking at pictures of my Uncle Rye, while my mother packs her bag to go visit my father across the country in rehab.

A little bead of sweat trickles down my chest, making me shiver as April sun streams through the kitchen window.

"Rye will be here tonight,” she says as she fidgets with the tag on her Coach bag making sure the logo is clearly visible. “Most people can't tell the difference between him and your father. He'll come and go, just like your dad does. He'll drive the minivan. Just don't let any of the neighbors get too nosy, and don't mention what's going on to anyone. Elodie, are you listening?"

Blood rushes to my face, and I turn my phone face down on the granite island.

“I’m listening,” I say, receiving a doubtful frown in response. “Uncle Rye will be pretending to be Dad. Got it.”

“Perhaps you should call him Dad at all times while he’s here. What do they call it, method acting?”

I nod ignoring the rush of dampness that seeps from my body thinking of sleeping a wall away from my uncle for two weeks. “Got it. I’ll call him Dad.”

I bet Dad fucks like a beast.

All that calm control has to have an outlet right? God, I wonder if he will be jerking off while he’s here? The vision has my feminine parts clenching. My nipples are achy and sensitive and my clit is ten kinds of demanding right now.

Rye could melt most frigid women’s resolve into a steaming puddle of wanton desire with those spooky greenish gold eyes of his and the way he moves through life with a confidence that makes you want to put him between you and all the terrible things in the world. I tell myself it’s just infatuation build on the quiet attention he’s given me since I was five years old.

But, every time I see him, it’s like the air disappears. I want to reach down and rub away the tension he creates between my legs.

I know nothing of men in that way really except what Anna and Jeremy my besties from grade school tell me. But there are things built into our DNA we cannot control. Desire and want. God, so much want.

My mother offers a thin smile and I return one in my practiced, polished perfect daughter manner.

Image is everything to my mother. She won Miss Michigan, after all, and her own mother was first runner-up in the Miss USA pageant, 1952, or whatever year it was.

“No fast food,” she says checking her lipstick in the glassy front of the wall oven. “I mean it, Elodie, don’t let Rye lead you astray. You’re doing so well on this diet, I don’t want to lose our progress. Remember that Sophia said their only doubt about you is that you’ve…filled out a bit more than is normally acceptable for a principal dancer.”

I click my molars together on another forced smile. “Got it. No fast food. I promise.”

She turns to open a cupboard and take yet another count of the diet shakes stacked in there, and I take the opportunity for another peek at my phone.

I tap on my photo files, then another tap to the hidden file I keep.

The latest snapshot of Uncle Rye pops up first from last month's performance of Swan Lake, where he brought me five dozen white roses. The picture is him standing next to me as I struggle to hold up what felt like fifty pounds of floral bliss.

“You have enough Opti-Cal to last two weeks. Weigh in when you first get up after you pee, then again right before bed. The app will log it and I’ll check it while I’m gone. Remember, accountability keeps us honest. God help me, if that man ruins all the work we’ve done—”

"Everything will be okay, Mom. Just take care of Dad."

Two years ago, I put on five pounds during spring break, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. Mom blames Uncle Rye because he insisted that I could share his Chinese take-out when he came to visit, just a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday. He ordered enough for six, and I pigged out but I also took on an extra two hour practice every day because there was no school, so I’m not sure if the five pounds was from the fried rice, or just a little water weight from an overload of msg and sodium.

I’m six pounds lighter than I was then and Mom is happier with things this way.

And honestly? When Mom’s happy, my life is a heck of a lot easier.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Advertisement Ouch Daddy – The Good Girls Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/ouch-daddy-the-good-girls-read-online-dani-wyatt Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:32 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/ouch-daddy-the-good-girls-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

She’s not his. She never was. But he raised her like she was.

Winona was never supposed to be this grown. This curvy. This much of a brat.
She parades around the house he built for her like she doesn’t know what she’s doing to him. But she knows. Oh, she knows—and she wants him to snap.
She’s eighteen with a look in her eyes that makes grown men suffer.
He protected her. Gave her everything. Did the right thing.
But now, he wants more.
And once she sees what’s coming for her, all she can say is ‘ouch’.

Author’s Note: You know exactly what this is. Filthy, fast, and wrong in all the right ways. If that’s your thing? Daddy’s home. Safe, no cheating ever, don’t come for the plot. But as always, they get a hot, hard happily ever after

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Reuben

Coming home is the best and worst part of every day.

It wasn’t always like that, but the last six months have been a horror show.

First, it’s because Winona, my deceased best friend’s daughter, who, for all intents and purposes, I’ve raised for the last six and a half years, has turned into sin incarnate. I want to spend every fucking second of every day near her, but she’s pushing me damn near to a nervous breakdown, parading around the house in just a t-shirt and panties most of the time. No matter how many times I tell her to go put clothes on, she just smiles and does what she wants.

Fucking brat.

But the more she pushes back at me, the harder my dick gets, and at almost forty years old, I’ve never sported a boner bigger, harder, or more deviant in its fantasies than I have the last few months.

But, it’s not just Winona that’s making it hard to come home to the house I built for us four years ago, it’s her mother, too, and for totally different reasons.

Rage-filled and a fan of Diet Coke and Southern Comfort, Catrina thinks the world is her oyster, but expects me to be the one funding her lavish lifestyle.

I take a moment to breathe as I wind up the driveway to the house, scanning the back acreage of the two hundred and sixty that’s my safe haven from the world outside. I bought it to bring some fresh perspective to Winona and to selfishly give her everything her heart desires hoping she would never think to look to another man for anything.

My phone buzzes as I pull my Denali into the carport attached to the side of the house next to the door, and Winona’s face appears on the screen with her tongue stuck out. I let her choose her ringtone and the contact image, and little does she know I’ve put that image with her tongue out onto my fucking dick several times a day ever since, imagining what it would feel like to have it licking up my shaft for real.

“Yesssss.” I tap accept on her FaceTime call and squeeze my temples in a silent plea to my already-hardening dick to keep things under control.

“Daddy!” She chirps, and any hope for control sails out the window and disappears on the early Spring Michigan breeze.

“Daughter.” I take a breath, hating myself for playing this little game with her, but knowing I have zero control.

It was her idea to call me Daddy when she was still in pigtails. Her father, my best friend and brother in all ways except blood, was “Dad” to her, and I was around all the fucking time, so she started to tell everyone I was her second father. Then, she branded me with the Daddy title, and there was no fucking turning back.

But since she turned the corner on adulthood, it’s taken on a whole new meaning.

“Joey says you told him to go home for the day. Is that true?” I do my best to glare at her, but when she nods and grins it’s pretty much fucking impossible.

“He was sick, Daddy. Sneezing and coughing. He needs to rest.”

I grunt in reply.

Only fucking bodyguard in the world who takes orders from the eighteen-year-old girl he’s supposed to be protecting. Well, bodyguard is stretching it. Joey used to work security at my construction company, until I needed someone to drive my little girl to school and back. He’s the only motherfucker in the world I trust with her, because he’s both enormous and intimidating, and when it comes to romantic interest, he’s a man’s man if you know what I mean.

Her pink cherub cheeks are more flushed than usual, and the immediate urge to ask her if she’s feeling okay catches in my throat as she smiles and points both her index fingers to her lips.

“See these?”

I don’t only fucking see them, I fucking dream about them, little girl. “Yes, baby. What about them?”

“They’re hungry, and you said you would be home an hour ago.” She pokes out that bottom lip, and God help me, cum seeps from the tip of my now painfully swollen dick.

I’ve always been an in-charge kind of guy, but when Stan died six years ago in a work accident that turned all our worlds upside down, my need for control multiplied a hundred-fold, especially when it came to his daughter.

“Well, I’m here now, and you know what I always say about hunger, right?” I sniff, run my hand down my thighs, and catch movement through the window next to the side door. The muscles down my back tighten when I see Catrina making her way toward the bar along the back wall of the kitchen.

“Hunger makes a good gravy,” Winona says on an eye roll, her cute as fuck little black bangs brushing on her lashes. They’re chopped in crooked chunks because she refuses to go to a salon. That’s a story for another time, but the one time she let Catrina cut her hair, it ended in tears and a screaming match, because her mother insisted on giving her ‘long layers’, whatever the fuck that means, and Winona wanted a ‘blunt cut’. Again, I have no fucking idea what any of that means, except that it resulted in the two women in my house making my life hell for two fucking days while they fought over hair.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

Advertisement Held Tight – The Good Girls Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/held-tight-the-good-girls-read-online-dani-wyatt Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:47 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/held-tight-the-good-girls-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

Have you ever wanted to know what it’s like to really be held tight? Well, here you go.

Step behind the curtain and you’ll find four good girls and four grown men who should know better. Three best-selling Daddies and one brand-new story to add to the decadence, Ouch, Daddy.
In The Good Girls Collection, you’ll meet four mouthy girls and the Daddies who lose their minds trying to keep them in line. Runaways, strays, heartbreakers and brats—every last one of them craving structure, praise, and a man who won’t flinch when things get filthy.

These aren’t just love stories. They’re full-blown meltdowns in the shape of devotion.
Included Titles:
• Yes, Daddy – A rain-soaked runaway meets the man who rewrites her future with one filthy word: mine.
• Please, Daddy – A small-town sheriff goes feral for the girl with quick fingers and fairy wings.
• Thank You, Daddy – His best friend’s baby sister is all grown up… and finally ready to break the rules.
• Ouch, Daddy – She grew up calling him Daddy. She still says it like nothing’s changed. He knows better.

Four over-the-top Daddy Dom romances full of filthy talk, first times, and obsessive devotion. Always safe, no cheating, and happily-ever-afters that ache in all the right places

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Vito

Iwatch as the auto shop owner counts the stacks of hundred-dollar bills. He’s nervous. I’m not like his typical customers, and my requests for the customizations on my new black Suburban were unique to say the least.

“We square?” I grumble as I stare at my phone, answering texts and emails while he opens a safe behind his desk and stacks the money inside.

“Y—yes,” he stutters, taking the last of the cash and securing it in the little black box, unaware that I could break his safe in less than thirty seconds if I wanted to.

I paid nearly double the quote for the upgrades on my new ride under the condition that he would get it done off the books and in less than a week.

He did both, so I’m pleased, and I’ll send him more business from people like me who need services like his. He may be nervous, but I have a sixth sense for people, and I’m betting he understands what loyalty means.

He rustles through a stack of papers on his desk, pushing empty coffee cups, screwdrivers and other shit around that looks like it’s been sitting there for years. Every few seconds he glances my way with an apologetic nod, but all I want is for him to calm the fuck down.

I don’t think he knows exactly who I am, but he has an idea of what I am. We didn’t exchange names. Most people wouldn’t know me on sight, but they would know my name. My family has a history in Detroit, and I’ll admit not all of it is good.

In fact, most of it isn’t good.

But even without knowing my name, I’m intimidating. Both in looks and presence. Add to that, the bulletproof glass, reinforced-steel roll cage and other customizations, I think he’s got some idea I could be a problem for anyone I found didn’t serve me.

“Here. Your receipt.” He raises the piece of paper from the desk with a shaky hand.

I scowl. “I don’t want a fucking receipt.” My brows draw together. “What part of ‘no records’ did you not understand?”

“I’m sorry.” He slowly pulls the paper back to him. “I just thought you might want a…list of everything we did. I don’t know how this works…” He rubs the center of his forehead with his other hand.

“Did you do everything I asked?”

He nods.

“Then I know what you did. I don’t forget things. Or people.”

I see him swallow hard as he tears the receipt into tiny pieces and throws them into a trash can. I hold out my hand, and he takes it in a limp shake that has me fighting off the urge to squeeze harder and give him a speech about being a man. Instead, I opt to get on with my evening. I’ve got some uncomfortable business to take care of, and I don’t like to put things off just because they're unpleasant.

If I did, I’d never get anything done.

He raises the shop door as I hop in the Suburban and start it up. It rumbles under me, then the noise disappears completely as I shut the door—the stone silence of the interior is just what I requested.

The first flash of lightning brightens the dark sky as I pull out of the garage and make my turn toward my former business partner’s office.

My former office.

But things change. Even in my somewhat shady business, people draw lines and have their own limits. There are things I won’t do. I’m no saint—I’ve done things that would make most mothers cry. But it’s how I grew up, and the truth is, my mother was proud of me.

God rest her soul. She passed away three years ago from complications of pneumonia. My dad preceded her by ten years, taking a slug from a rival family while he was having dinner at a now closed business-friendly restaurant downtown.

He was eating spaghetti with my former partner’s father one second and taking a bullet between the eyes the next. The other guy got a bullet into the shooter, but it was too late for my father. Our families have been friends and partners of one sort or another for three generations. Salvatore and I grew up together, got in scrapes together, and always had each other’s back.

Unfortunately, when Sal started to branch off into sex work with girls barely old enough to drive, I drew my line in the sand and made it clear we were going to part ways.

I’m willing to take a financial hit to distance myself as quickly as possible from that shit, and honestly, I’m seeing a side of him that makes me glad we’re dissolving our business relationship.

I’ll still manage a lot of the weapons sales. That’s been under my supervision primarily, and Sal doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to make it work. Trying to persuade a buyer that you know what you’re talking about, when all you really know is how to point a gun, is liable to get you killed.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

Advertisement Step-Grinch – Wanting What’s Wrong Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/step-grinch-wanting-whats-wrong-read-online-dani-wyatt Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:33 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/step-grinch-wanting-whats-wrong-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Novella, Taboo Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

What do you get when you take one hot, off-limits felonious cowboy and a secret Grinch fantasy?
A Christmas Eve your parents do not want to hear about.
I’m home from school for the holidays and shocker, my mother and step-father are heading to some tropical retreat to celebrate. Without me.
Merry Christmas to me.
Then, I realize, I’m being followed.
That night, I wake to someone in my room.
He hissed in my ear saying it would be over soon, but I didn’t believe him.
Black clothes. Rough hands. Grinch mask.

I should have screamed. I should have fought.
Instead, I moaned when he called me little Cindy Lou Who. How does this masked intruder know my secrets? He wraps his hands around my throat as fear turns to something dark and sparkly and dangerous. The Montana snow is falling, and so am I.

I don’t know who he is.
But I’ve got a feeling when I find out...
Christmas will never be the same.

Author’s This filthy little novella features a masked intruder, a curvy heroine with a diary full of bad ideas, and a step-brother cowboy who knows exactly what she wants even if she doesn't know it's him. Pure fantasy f!lth. No cheating. Safe but very unholy. This Christmas, the Grinch isn’t the only one stuffing something where it doesn’t belong

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

Christmas in Montana is not all romance and fluffy snowflakes like the Hallmark movies make you think.

This year at least, it’s going to be about me staring at the bare corner of the living room where a ten-foot Norway pine usually stands twinkling with a thousand white lights and carefully curated aesthetic ornaments.

Not this year.

“This is for your own good.” My mother cocks a flawlessly arched eyebrow, darting her eyes to mine as I sit in the passenger seat of her new Mercedes GLS, an early Christmas present from my stepfather, Colbert, as she drives us into town.

I barely had ten minutes at my family’s ‘cabin’ to drop my bags and take a breath before she scurried me to the car. And, by cabin I mean ten thousand square feet of hand set pine logs set on a thousand acres of some of the most stunning land in Montana.

I’ve had a hellish week, with studying and then driving the five hours home from Bozeman through a typical Montana December blizzard.

Did she even ask about my grades or how finals went?

They went well, Mom. I should maintain my 4.0 GPA and stay on track to graduate in three years with my double major in English and Political Science. Thanks for asking.

My half-sister Isabel giggles from the backseat, staring at her new iPhone. She’s been watching cat videos on TikTok since we pulled out of the drive.

She’s been indoctrinated from birth into the Elena and Colbert Houser playbook of life. This includes church every Sunday, and watching my parents make donations to politicians who support ‘traditional’ values. Their presentation of the perfect family to the upper crust of Montana is their true religion, if you ask me.

But, as usual, no one is asking me.

And yet, Isabel has still maintained her sweet nature and wisdom beyond her six and a half years.

I love her.

“Yes, mother.” I swallow around the tightness in my throat as Mom takes the turn onto East Chester Avenue, and then we see it.

Him, I mean. A guy. In a mask.

Isabel squeals as she sees him too. I suck in a sharp breath, my fingers darting to my lips. He’s just standing there with people walking around him shooting him looks as he stares straight ahead as though he was waiting for our car to turn the corner.

“Look! It’s the Grinch!” Isabel lowers her window and yells, “Go back to where you came from, Grinchy Grinch! You’re not in Whoville!”

“Isabel!” Mom snaps as I lock onto the man in the green mask, his head tipping to the side as we pass. I note the stiff khaki pants and plain gray sweatshirt that make him look like a convict on his first day of parole. “You don’t know who that is! He could be dangerous.”

“He’s wearing a Grinch mask, Mom. How dangerous could he be? What’s he gonna do? Stuff our Christmas tree up the chimbly?” Her little lisp is so cute. “Oh, wait, we don’t even have a Christmas tree this year.”

Her voice falls, eyes meeting mine with a pity shrug.

I turn my head as we pass, watching the man raise a gloved hand, finger waving at the car as we go by, and a chill shakes my shoulders.

Why did it have to be the Grinch? I exhale hard, crossing my arms over my chest as Mom pulls the black SUV into the valet line at The Cobalt Club. I turn to look through the rear windshield at the freak on the corner, but he’s already gone.

“Ignore him,” my mom says, blinking at herself in the rearview. “Christmas is not about caricatures and cartoons. We know better, don’t we?”

She winks at Isabel, who is back to staring at her phone. “Yup,” she answers without looking up.

We’re at the club for a holiday late lunch, a concession to me before the three of them head to the airport, and I don’t see them again until after the New Year. They’re leaving for a Christmas ‘retreat’ at the secluded Barbados resort owned by the First Church of Holy Values in Christ.

Don’t let the name fool you. It’s more like the first church of you-need-two-commas-in-your-bank-account-to-be-a-member.

If Jesus were alive, he wouldn’t make it through the front door on a carpenter’s salary.

“Let’s get going, girls. Some of us have a plane to catch.” Mom finger brushes her freshly highlighted and blown-out blonde bob before putting the car in park and grabbing her purse.

I look back at Isabel, and she gives me a tight smile. “We all want you to come, Sadie. But God needs you to take some time to re-evaluate your priorities.”

Her blue eyes flick to my mother, who nods in approval, glowing with pride that her and my stepfather’s training has worked its magic with their third child.

Third time’s the charm, as they say.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

Advertisement Death Comes Inside Her Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/death-comes-inside-her-read-online-dani-wyatt Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:38 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/death-comes-inside-her-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Taboo Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >25

All she wanted was to save her home. Now, she’s engaged to a demon hell-bent on knocking her up.
Eve was minding her business, bleeding on ancient scripture like any isolated virgin in a decaying mansion might, when boom…a portal to Hell opened, and a seven-foot demon with a barbed, sentient c*ck stepped through ready to wife her up.

Aios is not subtle. Not gentle. And definitely not human. But from the second he scents her purity, it’s game on. She’s his now. It’s fated, mated obsession, and zero protection.

Lock the doors. Drop the panties. He’s about to put a baby in her belly and a ring on her finger. But this demon broke the rules when he fell in love. Will these star-crossed lovers have what it takes to find their way to a happily ever after in this world or the down-under? Or will the devil take his due?

Author’s Note: Get your spooky on with this safe, over-the-top, fast-and-filthy demon/human love story that’s heavy on the smut and light on the plot. You’ll find an obsessed, unhinged alpha, a sheltered virgin heroine, and more underworld spunk than you can shake a summoning circle at. No cheating, double cherry popping and a happily ever after that lasts for eternity

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Aios

Gnarled trees open into a dark clearing as I propel myself toward the door. It’s been a hundred years since the priest sealed the portal behind me, locking me out of one of my many earthly playgrounds.

I claimed this particular earthly dwelling in a soul trade with the man who built it after he took to drinking and gambling and would have put his family on the street if not for making a deal with me.

Collecting human souls has been a hobby for centuries, but it’s been so long since I indulged. The minor pleasure it once brought me long ago faded.

Yet today, I felt the pull, heard the words of the summoning, and knew the door had reopened.

I’m on it within a breath. The entry seal breaks under my palm with a crack like bone snapping, then it swings wide. The warmth of humanity pours out, sending excitement racing through me as I step through.

At the last minute, I feel something familiar latch onto my heels.

Varek. A sniveling little sub-demon that follows me around like an annoying younger brother.

“Let go of me!” I hiss as we emerge on the other side, feeling the air drag through my throat.

He obeys, as usual. That’s why he’s still alive.

A demon of my standing has many sub-demons, but I find most of them useless and have vaporized thousands over the years.

This old dwelling place was a place I toyed with humans, indulging my evil powers for my own entertainment.

Demons get bored, too. My entire existence has been inflicting pain and ruin. Pain and ruin.

It gets dull after so many centuries.

Still, it’s all I know, and today, whatever unfortunate soul has summoned me back here will understand just how skilled I am at destroying soft, stupid humans. Once we seal the pact, I will invent new, painful ways to bring about the end of their earthly existence.

I snarl as I steady my newly-formed body, my bones growing sinuous muscle as the skull that sits on top of my neck solidifies once again.

Some sorcerer has performed the ritual and called me forth. There will be an exchange for the reopening of my playground, something they want and something I will take in return. It’s celestial law, and something even the Big Man down the dark stairs doesn’t question.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing that the entry has already disappeared. There remains only a blank wall beside a tall mirror that hung in that very place the last time I was here.

The wood floor is smoother under my feet, especially down the center, but the echoes of long-faded screams and pleas for mercy still linger in the stale air.

I recognize the yellowed wallpaper. The furniture is mostly gone, but the bones of the old mansion are still in place, though someone has let it go to ruin. The scent of mildew and damp neglect permeate the walls. A once grand plantation-style dwelling with white pillars across the front is now cracking and crumbling.

“Master... My voice burns,” Varak whines, his hands clutching his throat.

“Then stop using it,” I tell him coldly.

Demons in the underworld do not require rudimentary speech to communicate. In the other plane, our voices aren’t bound by lungs or larynx, tongue or teeth. But here, things are different. Many of the natural laws of the human world apply, even to us.

Like the way my breeding apparatus suddenly stirs to life, hardening, lengthening, standing out fourteen inches from between my legs, barbed and sentient. We are connected, of course, but it also has its own mind, its own will.

Find her…It hisses as a low burning in the length has my fingers twitching to soothe myself.

It’s called mating, a rarity for my kind. We live with constant hunger, it’s part of our hell. We can eat but are never full. We can drink wine but never feel the stupor. We bask in flame but still feel cold.

But nothing matches the deep hole of insatiable desire for a mate that we will never find.

“Master…” Varak stares up at my naked member from his place on the floor, a look of terror, shock and awe on his mole-like face. Sub-demons like Varak have no use for such appendages. “Shall I provide you relief?” He sniffs rubbing his rodent like digits together.

“The only relief you can provide is the pleasure I will take in banishing you into an eternity of nothingness. Now, stop talking and stop looking at my phallus you jealous imp.”

The only thing worse than death for a demon creature is the netherworld limbo that neither exists nor doesn’t exist.

I land the back of my bony hand against his head, knocking him backward. His eyes still locked onto my mating appendage send me into a fury.

I’ve never hardened like this before. But there’s a scent here. Something on the air my cock clearly caught it before me.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >25

Advertisement Rough Daddy – Real Daddies – Boone Brothers Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/rough-daddy-real-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Sun, 12 Oct 2025 20:52:00 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/rough-daddy-real-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Taboo Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

What do you get when cancel culture sends a former it-girl influencer straight into the arms of the grumpy small-town mechanic with a secret obsession?A Daddy who’s got a secret that just might end our happily ever after before it begins.
I was supposed to disappear.
Change my name. Colored my hair. Get out before the internet dragged me under for good.
Instead, I ended up in a busted Tesla, soaking wet, face to face with a man who could bench press my entire life and still have energy left to punish me.
Beau Boone doesn't talk much. But when I call him “Daddy”, the Boone damn breaks.
Now I’m staying in his house. Wearing his shirts. Following his rules.
And learning that the quiet ones don’t just fantasize. They study.
Turns out, Daddy doesn’t just want to fix my car.
He wants to lock me down in a way that can never be undone.

Author’s A scandal-wrecked runaway. A grumpy mechanic Daddy who’s been studying how to please her. He’s been obsessed from afar and now that he’s fiddled around under her hood, he’s never letting her go. Book 4 in the Real Daddies Boone Brothers series brings a filthy grump who knows how to fix things right. Safe, no cheating, and completely feral for his girl.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Tessa

We should be filming this.

Or at least snapping selfies and posting with #dinerlife, #influencermeetup, #itgirls.

With the headline, “They say rock bottom has a trap door. Immabouttofindout.”

I lie my head back on the sticky vinyl of the booth. Diners are supposed to be charming and low-end chic, but this one just smells like Lysol and rancid oil.

I only half listen to my friends’ conversation over bad coffee and worse food as my temples pound and my anxiety whispers in my ear that the sky is absolutely falling, and its destination is the top of my head.

My phone sits on the booth seat next to my left thigh. It lights up with another text from Ethan, my fifteen-year-old brother I left at home. I squeeze the button on the side, darkening the screen.

Guilt makes the sad breakfast in front of me impossible to eat.

But this is an adventure I need to take on my own.

Out the grease-smudged window of The Last Stop diner sits my white Tesla Model S. I’d say it looks out of place, but next to Marla’s rented Mercedes, Kit’s blacked-out Denali and Eliana’s shiny new Porsche, it fits right in.

A testament to the power of social media and the wild truth of just how rich, and screwed up, it can make you before the age of eighteen.

And after.

Inside my trunk is my entire set of Louis luggage, stacked on top of at least three black garbage bags full of shoes that probably outvalue the car.

Yesterday, after reading the email threatening to bludgeon me with a claw hammer, then the next one that offered me explicit advice on just how to stop my heart with a few household chemicals and pain relievers, I finally snapped.

The crack had been forming for a year, especially with my dad’s temper making me flinch every time he punched a wall or stomped on one of my intricately glued-together scale-engine models, wondering if one of these days it might be me he decides to break. But once the fault line split, so did I.

By two a.m., I’d chosen a destination that seemed as far away from my current life as I could get, and yet wouldn’t entail a drive more than a few hours from civilization, because my anxiety is constantly telling me I’ll surely be lost with no phone sig and a very large, expensive white paperweight on the side of the road.

Marla's voice cuts through the fog. Sitting with the only people in my life who understand how it was all unraveling makes up for the shitty food.

"Wildfire?” Marla holds her half-eaten double cheeseburger in both hands, grease, condiments and pickle juice dripping off the wilted lettuce onto the white porcelain plate. “Surely someone with your IQ could pick somewhere that at least sounds like a real place, instead of a sound effect?"

Her face is selfie-ready, as always. Lashes heavy, lips too red this early.

She looks like she's heading to a red carpet, not a back road diner with a hand written ‘Cash Prefer’d’ sign taped to the front door. But that's Marla. Always ready. Always curated.

She was America's YouTube sweetheart by the age of twelve. Now she can't go to a grocery store without someone calling her a bitch on TikTok.

But unlike me, she’s a duck. All the shit just rolls off her back, turning to gold in her bank account.

"It’s a nowhere, which is exactly where I want to be right now," I say, rolling the warm coffee mug between my palms.

Kit reaches across the sticky table and squeezes my wrist. She's the only one of us who got out clean. From pigtails and brand endorsements to kindergarten teacher. Long skirts. Bare nails. Mom to Mom sales on Sunday.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Advertisement Step-Tease – A Milky Forbidden Cowboy Novella Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/step-tease-a-milky-forbidden-cowboy-novella-read-online-dani-wyatt Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:54:50 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/step-tease-a-milky-forbidden-cowboy-novella-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Novella, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 >16

I knew I was falling for the man my mom married all those years ago. Strutting around the house in barely there shorts. Bending over in front of him like a total brat. He’s rough, wears a cowboy hat like it’s X-rated, and has to duck to get through doorways. To him, I’m just his ex’s kid.

So when I show up on Cade Burton’s front porch with a bruise on my cheek and two big secrets under my shirt, I dial the teasing up to a ten just to see this hot cowboy sweat. Only, what I don’t know is he has some feelings of his own and my teasing hasn’t gone unnoticed.

But now I’m eighteen and living under his roof. Love doesn’t care about rules.
And apparently, neither does Cade Burton.

Author’s This is one milky, fantastical, totally unrealistic forbidden romp. Step-Tease is an exclusive novella in the Wanting What’s Wrong series of best-selling step-relation stories. There’s dirty talk, one colossal, hot cowboy, a little girl who’s had a crazy year, and just the right setup for a happily ever after that absolutely shouldn’t have happened... But it did. It does

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Jenna

My heart is breaking. My boobs are aching. I’m an eighteen-year-old lactating virgin.

Unpack that.

“It’s only for a year.” My older sister Renae bounces ten-month-old Morgan on her hip, her chubby fingers tugging at my hair as I bite back another deluge of tears. “I promise, you will always be the best auntie. You saved my life taking care of her. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Sweet Morgan. The product of a less-than-ideal relationship my sister had with an old high school flame who quickly beat it out of town to California as soon as the pregnancy test turned up with two pink lines.

“She saved me too,” I mutter through shaking lips as Morgan’s hand moves to the neckline of my t-shirt, pulling, as that tingling, burning ache in my nipples nearly brings me to my knees.

“I gotta take this assignment, sis. And you cannot stay here.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the chaos of the small rental house my mom and her boyfriend call home.

“I’ll be fine,” I lie as the pain in my chest is overridden by the throbbing on the left side of my face where Mom’s boyfriend-slash-supplier left a reminder for her that no matter their relationship, she still owes him money.

“You are not fine. This place is not fine.” She seethes, raven black hair slicked back into a tight bun, her fatigues crisp and clean. Morgan starts to fuss, her eyes on mine, telling our secrets.

The cubicle of a living room is strewn with beer cans and filth. Coming back here after the calm order of Renae’s on-base apartment has cut me to the quick, but she’s gotten her new, dream assignment in France as an air traffic controller for the Army base there, and what am I going to put on my resume for a job that pays enough to afford my own place?

Babysat my sister’s kiddo since she was an infant, then when sis had to leave for two months of security training, I decided to comfort nurse and holy shit, you know what?

Comfort nursing turned into the real deal.

My body responded like it found its calling. Now my tits are heavy, I have to double up on the nursing pads inside my bras, and I’ve been secretly pumping to relieve the pain and pressure. So if there is a job for someone with milk-making at an Olympic Sport level, I’m your girl.

I stare at the fist-sized hole in the blue-painted drywall next to the open front door. Summer sunshine streams through the dusty, musty air of the house.

It’s a not so gentle reminder of Roger’s preemptive strike before he landed his next punch on my left eye socket when I tried to get in between him and mom.

My stomach rolls, nausea curdling the Oreo Milkshake I had for our goodbye lunch dessert, sharing it with Morgan. A guilty pleasure I enjoyed sharing with her as her stand-in-mom.

“Come on.” Renae’s voice takes on that motherly tone. “I know you’re still packed from coming back here from my place. Grab your shit. I’m taking you to Cal’s.”

The world stops spinning.

Cal.

Six foot seven. Green eyes. Wears a cowboy hat like it’s X-rated. Walked me to school every day for a month when the mean girl crew turned their focus on me.

“I can’t—” My mouth turns drier than my bank account. “When did you talk to him?”

My curiosity is like a candle flickering in the darkness, quickly igniting the heat of a nuclear core meltdown downtown in girltown.

“Yesterday. He asked about you before I could even get to the point.”

“I never answered his letters. He probably hates me.” I scuff the toe of my knock off Birkenstock on the corner of the cracked linoleum square of the foyer as my mom’s voice seeps from down the hall, yelling about someone hiding her foil and lighter.

Renae shakes her head. “Nope. No hate. He’s back settled at the ranch. You’re going there.” I open my mouth to protest, but narrows her eyes, giving me that hard, big sister stare. “I’m not debating this. You are going. You are not staying here. I won’t sleep, I won’t be able to function knowing you are here with—” She releases one hand from where she’s holding the baby to wave it in an arc around the shabby disaster of a room. “Now, get your shit. I’ve got two hours to get to the plane, and I’m dropping you off where I know you’ll be safe. He’s expecting you.”

It’s ironic that she’s right that I’d be safe there, considering he’s just been released after spending six months in prison for domestic assault. I know he’s not dangerous. Well, at least not in a way I need to worry about.

My mom concocted the abuse story, complete with self-inflicted bruises. But, Cal had a couple old convictions and even with his pricey attorney, the judge gave him six months.

<<<<1 2 3 11 >16

Advertisement Daddy’s Heart – Real Daddies – Boone Brothers Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/daddys-heart-real-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:54:35 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/daddys-heart-real-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

What do you get when you combine a bullet in the butt, a grumpy mountain sheriff, and one stormy night trapped in a mountain cabin?
A Daddy who treats my curves like a religion and my heart like a jewel.
I moved back to Wildfire to start over.
A quiet job, a little house, and a chance to breathe for me and my son.
What I didn’t expect was the town’s sheriff to be six and a half feet of pure authority, carrying a wound he refuses to let anyone touch… except me.
Colt Boone is big, brooding, and all growl.
He makes rules I didn’t ask for.
He lectures me about my shoes, stalks me through town, and calls me baby girl like it’s a ring on my finger.
I thought I was the one with something to hide.
Turns out, the man who's been undoing me piece by piece?
He’s been holding onto the biggest secret of all.

Author’s Note: A wounded sheriff, a single mom, and a decades-old fire that never really went out. Book 3 in the Real Daddies Boone Brothers series Is here! Every story is standalone, but you’ll want to stay for Sunday brunch, small-town ball-busting, and one more Boone boy going feral over his girl. Safe, no cheating, and obsessed from the second she shows up with those too-tight leggings and too many secrets

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Emery

“Mama, be careful in the mountains!”

My son’s voice crackles through the speaker, adorable like always. Legend is three years old and absolutely convinced he runs the world. Maybe he does. At least, mine.

“I will, baby,” I murmur, guiding my minivan up the final stretch of the winding dirt road. My stomach does a nervous little twist as I catch a glimpse of a log cabin through the pine branches in the distance. “You be good for Grandmama, okay?”

“I am good! Grandpop says I’m the goodest ever!”

I smile, even though my palms are a little sweaty. “He’s right.”

“Emery, honey?” My grandmother’s voice cuts in. “Are you sure about this? Those mountains at night are dangerous, and who knows who that man is you’re going to see out there in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m fine, Grandmama. Just a house call. Anyway, he’s the Sheriff, I’m pretty sure I’ll be safe. Gotta go. Love you all,” I say as I end the call.

Sheriff Colt Boone.

I mean, what kind of name is that? It sounds like a brand of whiskey or bar of soap that smells like leather and flannel.

The man Logan described as grumpy as hell and built like a brick wall that half of the female Wildfire population would like to climb. And a respectable portion of the male population as well. The kind of man you don’t want to meet in a dark alley unless you’re trying to get ruined.

Which, apparently, I’m doing. Professionally, of course.

I park beside a massive black truck that looks like it could eat my van for breakfast. My fingers tremble a little as I check my reflection. My hair is barely hanging on in its messy bun, and my lips are dry. I swipe on Cherry Chapstick like it’s armor and take a breath.

Just a trained medial assistant. Doing her job. No big deal.

Oh, did I mention? I’m here to check his wound. A bullet hole in his ass.

As I make the final approach to the sheriff’s house, I’m comforted by the fact the cabin is honestly incredible. Not like the Dutton’s Yellowstone behemoth, but somehow better. Small and neat with ferns filling the beds, and what looks like one of those tree trunks that’s been carved with a chainsaw into a magnificent, artful grizzly bear.

Once I’m parked, engine off, I click open my door. Outside, it’s one of those Wildfire nights that belong in a song or a book.

There’s a coolness to the mountain breeze that blends magically with the waning heat of the late summer day.

The path leading to the front door is made of flagstone and gravel. I walk carefully, balancing my bag on my shoulder, my new pair of knock-off Tori Burch flats providing zero grip on the slightly uneven terrain.

When I look up to take in the front door of my destination, I note a sign nailed to a carved piece of wood above the porch.

“Beware of the Owner”

My jaw unhinges, wondering if I should turn tail and make haste back to civilization in my minivan when, I roll the ball of my foot on a loose rock. My arms fly outward but it’s no use. I’m tumbling, knees crashing down onto hard stone with an ‘oof’.

My palms scrape raw, and the bag on my shoulder lands with a thud three feet ahead of me.

“Shit,” I hiss, trying to catch my breath as a hot explosion of pain expands from my left kneecap.

With clenched teeth and squinted eyes, I push up on my hands, trying to right myself when I hear it.

The distinctive sound of heavy, cast-iron hinges squealing.

Followed by the thud, thud, thud of heavy footsteps on wooden steps.

Then, a low voice, rough as the gravel digging into my knees. “Jesus Christ.”

I barely lift my head before thick, grabby hands are around my waist.

I’m on my feet in about two seconds flat. He lifted me like I’m nothing and at two-hundred eighteen pounds, nothing is not really how I would describe me.

I’m not ashamed of my body, but I know I’m no featherlight.

With a whooshing exhale, my feet connect to solid ground, but his hands are still on me.

Thumbs under my ribs. Heat burning through my scrubs.

My eyes trail up, and up, and my heart forgets how to beat.

Colt Boone is huge.

A mountain of a man with messy dark hair and a chest made of hard lines and thick muscle. His jaw clenches like it wants to snap steel in half. There’s a scar on his neck that draws my eyes like a magnet.

And then there are his eyes.

They remind me of my son’s favorite Blue Raspberry flavored Slurpee. Like a frozen Mediterranean tide pool.

And right now, they’re locked on me like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my soul.

He’s not just gorgeous. He’s so magnificent, it’s hard to keep my eyes on him.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

Advertisement Wild Daddy – Read Daddies Boone Brothers Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/wild-daddy-read-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:07:23 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/wild-daddy-read-daddies-boone-brothers-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >44

What do you get when you combine a weekend survival adventure, one sleeping bag, and a mountain man who loves to make the rules? A five-star Daddy experience.
I’m in town for a wedding. Heels, champagne, and a final thesis on wilderness survival.
He’s the Boone brother who gets paid to keep people like me from dying out here. The one who swore off women a decade ago.

I’m too soft. Too mouthy. I don’t listen.
Now I’m tripping over roots and testing his patience.
And learning things they definitely don’t teach in grad school.
I came for extra credit.
He came to show me it’s okay to let go.

When I leave the mountain to finish my degree, he does the one thing I never saw coming.
He puts on a suit.
Because Daddy won’t ever let me walk away.

Author's Book 2 in the Real Daddies Boone Brothers Series. These can be read as standalones but they are loosely interconnected. So, come for the bark, stay for the bite and watch this little academic overachiever find out just how much fun getting dirty can be. Safe, no cheating, and totally obsessed with his girl from the first swing

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Marley

Two glasses of champagne is my limit.

Should have been, at least.

But three gave me enough courage to sit at the head table with a sea of eyes on me.

Four is why I'm currently clutching a bouquet of white roses while the wedding reception spins around me like a glittering kaleidoscope.

"You okay, honey?" My best friend Sarah's aunt touches my elbow, her voice cutting through the blur of laughter and clinking glasses as I rub the painful spot on my forehead where the base of the bouquet made its landing. "You look a little unsteady."

I force a smile and hold up the bouquet that nearly concussed me. "Just surprised I caught this thing. Sarah's got quite an arm."

The older woman chuckles and moves on, everyone watching having a good laugh at the meme-worthy sight of me receiving the bouquet between the eyes only to have it fall like a baby into my outstretched hands.

The champagne, lack of nutrition because I can’t stand eating in front of anyone let alone a room full of strangers, combined with a floral blow to the head have left me swaying beside the towering wedding cake with its ombre icing and personalized cake topper with the bride and groom imagined as their D & D characters.

This entire wedding and reception here at Wildfire Mountain Lodge has been a full-on Pinterest board.

Fairy lights hang from everything that will stand still, flowers that look rustic yet elegant are on every surface, guests dancing to a live bluegrass band, and enough champagne flowing to float a tugboat. I've driven six hours from Ann Arbor talking myself out of a panic attack the entire way, , my little Honda packed with bridesmaid duties and thesis stress.

When Sarah sprung the whole wedding plan on me three months ago, my throat closed up as she laid out all the duties and time involved in being a bridesmaid. As well as all the interacting with people I didn’t know I would need to do.

Then, a month ago when my advisor told me I needed a last immersive experience to complete my final thesis paper, I saw the silver lining in this trip to the Wildfire Lodge in Upper Michigan.

After doing a full investigation of the area, turns out wilderness survival outings around here are a thing. So tomorrow morning, instead of suffering through the bridesmaid’s breakfast, I’m heading over to Boone's Outdoor Gear, where I’ll be getting my first taste of what it would be like to live after the apocalypse.

It all worked out, so I should be happy. I am happy. Insofar as I feel happiness. Being a spectrum girl, I’m aware my emotional receptors are not calibrated like the majority of humans. Being touched makes me grit my teeth. Hugs are not calming or comforting. More like straining to open a pickle jar. Friends have never been a priority for me. Being at the top of my class since my parents had me reading and writing at the age of three has been the pinpoint focus of my life.

Still, Sarah, who answered my parents’ ad for a roommate for me freshman year, turned out to be the sister and friend I never saw coming. Being sixteen when I started at U of M, I couldn’t stay in the dorm. So, Mom and Dad advertised for someone to sort of babysit me in exchange for a zero-rent opportunity at the loft apartment they rented just off campus. Sarah answered the ad, and turned out she had a neurodivergent younger brother, so instead of seeing me as a socially inept and annoying adolescent prodigy, she took me under her wing as a pseudo-sister.

I’d do anything for her. Including wear this ridiculous pink nightmare of lace and ruffles that makes my butt itch and has large dark circles growing on the chiffon under my arms.

Being the youngest person at most of my peer group’s social gatherings is nothing new. I've been catching up socially my entire life. But watching Sarah's other friends dance and laugh, all of them seeming so naturally confident in ways I've never quite mastered, makes the champagne feel like a necessary social lubricant rather than a celebration.

As the band does a blues version of the Chicken Dance, my focus is on being alone in the Michigan wilderness with some gruff outdoorsman who probably thinks journalism majors are as useful as chocolate tampons. Something to push my limits my advisor said. A chance to write about survival from the inside out. Feels like more of a nightmare to a girl that only goes outside to get from one class to another and thinks grass is itchy and roughing it is sleeping on less than 100% Egyptian cotton sheets, but here I am, committed to the madness because it’s the last check mark I need on my degree, and there’s no way I’m not acing this thesis.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >44

Advertisement Daddy’s Girl – Wildfire Mountain Man Romance Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.books2020.com/daddys-girl-wildfire-mountain-man-romance-read-online-dani-wyatt Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:15:20 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/daddys-girl-wildfire-mountain-man-romance-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Taboo Authors: Dani Wyatt Advertisement

Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >45

What do you get when you combine a rope swing, a raging river and your father's best friend? Your new Daddy, of course.Jack Boone. Wilderness-made, beard thick as the forest he calls home, and—based on the rising…tide in those worn jeans—blessed in ALL the right departments.

He pulls me from certain death only to drown me in feelings I never knew I had. His cabin becomes my playground. His massive body, my new favorite ride. When he touches me, my inner good girl goes deliciously bad.

When he praises me like only a Daddy can, the timber isn't the only thing groaning. My past is hunting me, but between breaking beds and marking me as his new territory, Jack's busy carving a cradle. I expected sanctuary when I fled to these mountains. Instead, I found a grumpy mountain man determined to ruin me.

Turns out, being ruined was exactly what I needed.

Author's Lean in hard to this Wildfire Mountain daddy. He falls first and when these two opposites attract, it's fire and fire and woohoo! It's yummy Daddy fantasy, so hold on, get comfy and let this Boone Brother take you for a ride. Safe, no cheating, and totally obsessed with his girl from the first swing.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Delaney

This is how girls die in the movies.

The naïve twenty-something city girl disappears in the woods, and they find her backpack three counties over, tangled in a tree root or chewed through by coyotes.

I'm halfway across a goddamn river in Michigan, clinging to a rope swing like a dumbass. If I wasn’t scared shitless, I’d laugh thinking I was competing on Fear Factor.

The current below me is angry—fast, foaming, loud enough to drown out my breath. The rope stopped swinging about twenty seconds ago and no matter how much I try to regain inertia, I’m dead stop hanging with no hope of reaching the bank. My legs are shaking. My pack's too heavy. My arms are slipping. I've got one foot twisted through the loop, dangling like Tarzan's sad, clumsy cousin.

Cherry on top is, I can’t swim. I have a love hate relationship with water.

Hot shower? Friend.

Hot tub? Very good friend.

Cold bottle of water after a workout? Acceptable.

Being immersed in raging river water where I may be pulled under? Lifelong enemy.

I'm going to die before I ever meet him.

Jack Boone.

The whole reason I’m hanging here like a lead weight on the end of some deep-sea fishing line. All the hand-painted signs nailed to ten different trees at the start of the trail didn’t seem to apply to me. Blood-red letters screaming ‘KEEP OUT’, ‘NO TRESPASSING’ and ‘MY LAND, MY RULES’.

My dad gave me Jack’s number before he died. The implausible best friend that lived somewhere on Wildfire Mountain, who I’d never once met or even seen a photo of. I hadn’t considered it much at that time—having my heart ripped out pretty much consumed me—but in the months that passed, I wondered why my father still considered him such a good friend. After all, he hadn’t once come to visit as dad’s condition worsened, or as far as I know even called. The man he’d made the center of so many of my bedtime stories. The bigger than life mountain man slash superhero he’d met in the service.

"If you ever need anything, kiddo, call Boone. I saved his life once, he said that was a debt he could never repay."

But the number got wiped when my now ex-boyfriend crushed my phone under the heel of his boot when I tried to leave.

And now I'm here with "Wildfire" scrawled on a map, following a trail that looked like maybe it led somewhere, and this river between me and... I don't even know.

My fingers still feel the cold press of Dad's dog tags clutched in my palm at the funeral. His last gift to me. Everything else was already gone—our apartment, our savings, his smile. Cancer took it all.

A memory flashes through my mind. Dad sitting in his recliner, a fraction of the man he was, blankets tucked around him, the hum of the machine that fed nutrients into the tube in his nose clicking away, taking the chain off his neck and putting it around mine. "Remember, kiddo. If you ever need anything, call Boone. He's the only one I trust. I’m sorry you never met—he’s not the easiest guy to get close to, but that’s just Boone. He’d do anything for you though. I know that as well as I know you’re the most precious thing in my life."

I shift, shrugging my pack higher on my shoulders as it starts to slip, re-thinking the ten Petoskey Stones and three Yooperlites I grabbed as I packed.

The movement makes the swing jerk.

“Help me, please!” I scream to the break of blue and white at the tops of the swaying thick pines that seem to reach a mile into the sky.

My dad always taught me when you are in trouble, never yell for help.

Always yell ‘fire’ he said. Everyone ignores ‘help’…

“Fire!” I scream. “I’m on fire over here!”

The words scrape on my raw throat as the absurdity of those words crashes around me. Literally. Like, no way I could be on fire with the world’s angriest river taking ice-cold pot shots at me while I’m dangling helplessly above the rapids.

Of course no one hears me. This isn't some tourist trail. This is fucking nowhere.

Okay. Okay. Think, girl. You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out. Then, it’s like a lightbulb flashes above my head…

Flare gun.

I fumble for the side pocket on my pack. Dad gave me the little car emergency kit along with a rusty lemon-yellow Buick when I turned sixteenIt seemed like a smart thing to grab when the car began to overheat fifty miles into my desperate escape into the wilderness from my dickhead ex, David. I ditched the car, took what I could, and caught the next bus heading toward Wildfire.

At the time, I’d thought if the situation called for it, I could shoot it at someone instead of as a beacon into the sky. You know, like they do in the movies. That feels like a joke right now though, because I can barely hold on, let alone fire something without envisioning a future shopping for eye patches that come in something other than basic black.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >45