Margot Scott – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Margot Scott – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:13 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Margot Scott – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Painter’s Daughter Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/the-painters-daughter-read-online-margot-scott Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:13 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-painters-daughter-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Virgin Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)

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Six years ago, my father walked out of my life with no explanation. I never thought I’d see him again, let alone be invited to spend the summer painting in his professional studio.

The instant we meet, I feel it—the forbidden attraction. I fight to bury my shame, but an accidental kiss unlocks a door to desires that shouldn’t be shared between blood relatives.

Now we’re addicted to this twisted love. But as harsh truths come to light, I find myself questioning how well I really know this man, my father, the famous artist. And how far I’m willing to go to expose his darkest secrets.

Author’s note: Read the original taboo version of Margot Scott’s forbidden romance novella Pretty, Dark and Dirty.

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

Prologue

When I was little, I suffered from frequent night terrors that led to a fear of sleeping with my back exposed. My father, awoken by my cries, would lift me from my bed and carry me in to sleep between my parents in their already too-cramped bed. I don’t recall the nightmares, but if I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his arm around me, the solid presence of his chest against my back, and the vague awareness of feeling safe, warm, and protected.

These days, I no longer need to close my eyes to remember how it felt to be loved. I only have to slide my hand across the cool sheet to find another hand reaching for me, or whisper Daddy in the dark to feel his arms enfolding me.

I came to the city in search of answers. What I found was a love I could not have known had the truth been made plain to me from the start. Yet had I known the price I would pay in my pursuit of the truth, I’m not sure I would’ve gotten on that bus.

But I did, and now there’s no going back for either of us.

Chapter One

I remember holding my mother’s hand in front of an immense portrait of George Washington the first time I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was four years old. My toes pinched in my Velcro sneakers after hours of wandering through galleries, and I couldn’t stop squirming in my itchy corduroy overalls.

Exasperated, my mother turned to my father and said, “You take her.”

He hoisted me up and carried me off to the Egyptian wing, past the reflecting pool and into the Temple of Dendur.

“Look, Paige,” he’d said, pointing to the remains of a small statue encased in glass. “That’s the priestess Tagerem, Ra’s God’s Wife. Ra is the Egyptian sun god. He rides a chariot across the sky during the day, making the world bright.”

At the time, it had made perfect sense to me, because I knew men could be gods. My father was surely a god, for he was the star around which my entire world revolved. I beheld his kingdom from atop his strong, fatherly shoulders. Up there, it was possible to witness things that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed by one so small.

Fourteen years later, I would’ve traded every inch I’d gained through puberty for a similar perch. Rising to my toes, I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the wall of hieroglyphics over the blockade of onlookers, to no avail.

My father had warned me that weekends at the Met could be crowded. Crowded was an understatement. My bus had arrived at Grand Central Terminal a few minutes after I was supposed to meet him in the lobby. By the time I joined a ticket line, I was already twenty minutes late. I looked for him at the information kiosk, where we’d planned to meet. When I didn’t see him, I sent a text. Ten minutes and zero responses later, I headed into the Egyptian wing in the hopes that he’d gotten bored and gone inside without me.

That was half an hour ago.

Abandoning the packed temple, I took a seat on the stone lip beside the reflecting pool and pulled out my phone. No new messages. My knee bounced under my opposite ankle. I was starting to freak out. Maybe my dad had left his phone at home or forgotten to charge it. He probably thought I’d stood him up.

Or, perhaps, he hadn’t shown up at all.

With no other way to contact him and nowhere else to go, I was in trouble. His address was unlisted. I didn’t know anyone else in New York, and the money in my bag wasn’t enough to cover another bus ticket, plus food. There had to be an ATM somewhere in the museum. I’d hoped to save the bulk of my graduation money, but if push came to shove, I could always use some of it to rent a cheap hotel room or a bed at a hostel.

I was about to send my dad another text when I heard a breathy, “Oh my God,” coming from a small group of well-dressed women idling nearby. “Is that really him?” they whispered. I could almost smell their arousal.

The throng parted, and there he stood, daylight bursting through the clouds. My father was the sort of handsome that made people’s necks snap as he passed, the kind you had to rub your eyes to believe. My mother used to say he didn’t just make art, he was art. A walking, talking, living, breathing work of art.

He was the sun. It hurt to look at him.

“Hey,” he said.

Smoothing my lychee-scented lip balm, I curtailed my grin into a modest smile. “Hey.”

He sat on the stone bench beside me. I was at a loss for additional words, but it didn’t seem to matter. His smile was as warm as midsummer, his hazel eyes tinged gold. Not a hint of pretense or a tinge of disenchantment to be found. Just wonder, pure and refreshing, like a mouthful of spring water.

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Advertisement Insincerity – An MFM Forbidden Romance Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/insincerity-an-mfm-forbidden-romance-read-online-margot-scott Sun, 03 Mar 2024 19:18:27 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/insincerity-an-mfm-forbidden-romance-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Novella, Taboo Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

She’s their secret curvy obsession...
Everything changed the day my stepdad went to prison. Losing the most important man in my life could have broken me, but his billionaire brother Logan made sure that I always felt loved.

Then I uncovered a stash of intimate videos and a staggering truth: Logan was secretly filming me in every room of his house. I should’ve felt sick. I should’ve run. Instead, I dared him to co-star in my private peep show.

Now we’re each other’s dirty secret, but the secrets don’t end with us. My step-uncle was just the camera man. The director is watching, and he’s ready to step into a starring role.

Author's Note: Insincerity is a spicy standalone MFM why-choose romance (no sword-crossing) centered around a forbidden age-gap relationship between a curvy heroine and the men who raised her.

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

1

GRAHAM

The prison guard’s boots squeaked against the tile floor. I flipped a page in the outdated magazine I was looking at and listened for the jingling of his keys. This guy was one of the newer guards who I mentally referred to as Cowboy. I could easily pick out his hurried gait among the seasoned trudgers with their don’t-give-a-shit attitudes. Cowboy still had something to prove.

My cellmate stirred in the bunk above me, grumbling in his sleep. I scanned an article about a Hollywood couple’s split that had supposedly devastated fans months ago. It was hard to get a recent magazine around here and I didn’t give two shits about celebrities, but it was something to look at while I waited for the guard to fetch me. A moment later, Cowboy stopped outside of my cell, keys in hand.

“Your lawyer’s here,” he said in a Texas drawl that’d earned him the nickname I’d privately given him.

Tossing the magazine aside, I rose from my seat on the bottom bunk bed. I’d been anticipating this meeting all day, my cock half-hard despite my best attempts to keep myself under control. The last thing I wanted was to give anyone the slightest hint as to what would be happening in the room where my lawyer was waiting for me.

Cowboy insisted on doing things by the book, fastening the handcuffs to my wrists through the cell bars before opening the door to let me out. He led me down the hall toward a private conference room, the same room where I met my lawyer every month to supposedly discuss my appeal. Most of the other inmates avoided my gaze as we made our way down the block. I couldn’t resist smirking.

At just shy of six feet, I wasn’t the biggest guy in here; far from it, really. My lean-and-mean physique resisted bulk despite daily workouts. I wasn’t what you’d call a shot caller—a high-ranking prisoner who practically ran things. I gladly left all that messy shit to the gang leaders and lifers. Making friends wasn’t a priority, and I had no intention of joining a group made up of the kind of lowlifes that I was stuck here with.

But friends equaled protection on this side of the barbed wire. I had to find other ways to craft a ruthless reputation for myself, one that would encourage others not to fuck with me. It wasn’t easy, but over the last four years, I’d managed to do it. I picked and won fights with the right people to leave an impression. Everyone knew that I wasn’t afraid to do time in solitary.

The conference room where inmates met privately with their lawyers was as plain as could be. White-painted brick walls and metal chairs that weren’t built for comfort. Even the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead was irritating, and I was willing to bet the guards kept it cold in here on purpose.

I didn’t care about any of that.

The lawyer who my brother had hired to represent me was waiting in a chair and looking bored as ever. We both knew there wasn’t going to be much of a meeting between us. As soon as Cowboy uncuffed me and left the room, my lawyer slid a smartphone out of his pocket, along with a pair of earbuds, and placed both on the table between us.

I grabbed the phone and sat down without saying a word. After lodging the earbuds into my ears, I unlocked the phone using a PIN that only my brother and I knew. The video files he put onto this phone were meant for my eyes only; not even my lawyer was allowed to see them, and my brother had certainly paid him enough not to mind the secrecy.

Leaning back in my chair, I opened the first video and watched as a beautiful young woman came into view. The footage had been filmed using a high-end security camera, expertly hidden at eye level somewhere in my brother’s modern kitchen. The young woman stood at the fridge in her pajamas, her dark-brown hair a tousled cloak around her shoulders. She pulled out eggs and butter, then cracked two eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork. My gaze lingered on her breasts as they swayed with her movements, barely restrained by her cropped tank top. She was perfectly curvy, her body lush and yielding in all the places I was lean and hard. It had been years since I’d wrapped my arms around something soft. Everything in prison, from the beds to the people, was designed to withstand a beating. My focus dipped to her lower body as she made her way over to the stove, noting how deliciously her thighs filled out her pajama pants.

The video ended and I queued up another, my pulse jumping at the sight of the same young woman seated at a desk in her bedroom, undoubtedly doing her homework. The bedspread and décor were awash in bright, girly shades and patterns, from the purple comforter on her bed to the crisp, white dresser, and the lavender curtains that matched the rug beneath her desk. She’d always loved pastel colors, and it comforted me to know that some things hadn’t changed, even though she was nineteen years old now. I studied her gorgeous face, her full lips pressed tightly together in concentration. She had her hair pulled back, exposing the vulnerable skin of her neck. I sighed as she bit her bottom lip in response to whatever she was reading, wishing I could nibble on it myself, as well as other parts of her supple body.

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Advertisement Insincerity – Taboo Version Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/insincerity-taboo-version-read-online-margot-scott Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:24:37 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/insincerity-taboo-version-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Novella, Taboo Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

I moved in with my uncle after my dad went to prison. Losing the most important man in my life nearly broke me, but my uncle made sure I felt loved. He became my second father and my best friend.

Then I uncovered a secret cache of videos and a staggering truth: my uncle had been filming me in our home for years. I should’ve felt violated. I should’ve run. Instead, I begged him to join me in front of the cameras.

Now we’re each other’s secret. But the secrets don’t end with us.

Another man has been watching my every move.

A man who misses me very much.

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

1

GRAHAM

The prison guard’s boots squeaked against the tile floor. I flipped a page in the outdated magazine I was looking at and listened for the jingling of his keys. This guy was one of the newer guards who I mentally referred to as Cowboy. I could easily pick out his hurried gait among the seasoned trudgers with their don’t-give-a-shit attitudes. Cowboy still had something to prove.

My cellmate stirred in the bunk above me, grumbling in his sleep. I scanned an article about a Hollywood couple’s split that had supposedly devastated fans months ago. It was hard to get a recent magazine around here and I didn’t give two shits about celebrities, but it was something to look at while I waited for the guard to fetch me. A moment later, Cowboy stopped outside of my cell, keys in hand.

“Your lawyer’s here,” he said in a Texas drawl that’d earned him the nickname I’d privately given him.

Tossing the magazine aside, I rose from my seat on the bottom bunk bed. I’d been anticipating this meeting all day, my cock half-hard despite my best attempts to keep myself under control. The last thing I wanted was to give anyone the slightest hint as to what would be happening in the room where my lawyer was waiting for me.

Cowboy insisted on doing things by the book, fastening the handcuffs to my wrists through the cell bars before opening the door to let me out. He led me down the hall toward a private conference room, the same room where I met my lawyer every month to supposedly discuss my appeal. Most of the other inmates avoided my gaze as we made our way down the block. I couldn’t resist smirking.

At just shy of six feet, I wasn’t the biggest guy in here; far from it, really. My lean-and-mean physique resisted bulk despite daily workouts. I wasn’t what you’d call a shot caller—a high-ranking prisoner who practically ran things. I gladly left all that messy shit to the gang leaders and lifers. Making friends wasn’t a priority, and I had no intention of joining a group made up of the kind of lowlifes that I was stuck here with.

But friends equaled protection on this side of the barbed wire. I had to find other ways to craft a ruthless reputation for myself, one that would encourage others not to fuck with me. It wasn’t easy, but over the last four years, I’d managed to do it. I picked and won fights with the right people to leave an impression. Everyone knew that I wasn’t afraid to do time in solitary.

The conference room where inmates met privately with their lawyers was as plain as could be. White-painted brick walls and metal chairs that weren’t built for comfort. Even the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead was irritating, and I was willing to bet the guards kept it cold in here on purpose.

I didn’t care about any of that.

The lawyer who my brother had hired to represent me was waiting in a chair and looking bored as ever. We both knew there wasn’t going to be much of a meeting between us. As soon as Cowboy uncuffed me and left the room, my lawyer slid a smartphone out of his pocket, along with a pair of earbuds, and placed both on the table between us.

I grabbed the phone and sat down without saying a word. After lodging the earbuds into my ears, I unlocked the phone using a PIN that only my brother and I knew. The video files he put onto this phone were meant for my eyes only; not even my lawyer was allowed to see them, and my brother had certainly paid him enough not to mind the secrecy.

Leaning back in my chair, I opened the first video and watched as a beautiful young woman came into view. The footage had been filmed using a high-end security camera, expertly hidden at eye level somewhere in my brother’s modern kitchen. The young woman stood at the fridge in her pajamas, her dark-brown hair a tousled cloak around her shoulders. She pulled out eggs and butter, then cracked two eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork. My gaze lingered on her breasts as they swayed with her movements, barely restrained by her cropped tank top. She was perfectly curvy, her body lush and yielding in all the places I was lean and hard. It had been years since I’d wrapped my arms around something soft. Everything in prison, from the beds to the people, was designed to withstand a beating. My focus dipped to her lower body as she made her way over to the stove, noting how deliciously her thighs filled out her pajama pants.

The video ended and I queued up another, my pulse jumping at the sight of the same young woman seated at a desk in her bedroom, undoubtedly doing her homework. The bedspread and décor were awash in bright, girly shades and patterns, from the purple comforter on her bed to the crisp, white dresser, and the lavender curtains that matched the rug beneath her desk. She’d always loved pastel colors, and it comforted me to know that some things hadn’t changed, even though she was nineteen years old now. I studied her gorgeous face, her full lips pressed tightly together in concentration. She had her hair pulled back, exposing the vulnerable skin of her neck. I sighed as she bit her bottom lip in response to whatever she was reading, wishing I could nibble on it myself, as well as other parts of her supple body.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

Advertisement Force of Nature Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/force-of-nature-read-online-margot-scott Thu, 02 Nov 2023 21:56:26 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/force-of-nature-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Taboo Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

It was supposed to be our last camping trip, a final sendoff before my daughter flew off to college. Then four men stepped out of the shadows and into my worst nightmare.

I knew what those bastards had in mind before they sat down at our fire. Forcing me to watch as they tormented her wasn’t enough. They wanted to break her, and they wanted me to be the first to do it.

Impossible. I could never harm my own child. But regardless of the sickening betrayal, I can’t help how my body responds. She can’t possibly want this either, so why does it seem like she can’t get enough?

The twisted desire we feel can only be wrong. But in the wilderness, the rules of men no longer apply.

Out here, we play by the laws of nature.

Hunt or be hunted.

Take or be taken.

Kill or be killed.

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

Chapter 1

Willow

The scent of spruce and sagebrush filled my lungs as I stood in the knee-high river, resisting the lazy pull of the current around my legs. There was something satisfying about withstanding the water’s sluggish tug. I hadn’t bothered to remove my trail shoes or to roll up my hiking tights; the late-summer heat would take care of the lingering dampness quickly enough.

My dad paused beside me.

“Don’t quit on me now,” he said. “Mr. Bubbles is waiting.”

I rolled my eyes at his attempt at a joke but couldn’t suppress my smirk. Our goal for the afternoon was a natural hot spring called Mr. Bubbles and I was looking forward to a relaxing soak.

Dad continued toward the riverbank, but I caught the peaceful smile on his face. He appreciated the scenery just as much as I did. It’s why we kept coming back to Yellowstone National Park every summer, year after year. Not only for the beauty and grandeur, but for the chance to escape the constant hum of city life and reconnect with nature, as well as each other.

We’d parked at the ranger station two mornings ago and spent the past couple of nights at different campsites along the trail. We’d been hiking for most of the day today. Both of us were in excellent shape from living active lives, but three straight days of walking—sometimes on uneven terrain—can make anyone’s muscles sore.

I met my dad on the bank of the river where he was putting his socks and shoes back on.

“Do you need a break, Willow?” he asked, now with genuine concern.

It was tempting to roll my eyes at him again, but I held back. Dad could be overprotective at times, but I knew that his need to control stemmed from a place of love. He just wanted me to be safe and happy. When I was younger, it drove me crazy. At eighteen years old, I had a better perspective. My dad didn’t set out to raise me on his own, but then my mom died in childbirth. It’d been the two of us from the very beginning.

Of course, that’s what made this trip so bittersweet. It was set to be our last hiking trip before I left for college. As soon as we got back home, I would only have a few short weeks to prepare for the cross-country move that would separate me from my dad for the first time ever.

I hadn’t planned to attend college so far away, but my dad insisted. He said he wanted me to be independent. I couldn’t help wondering if part of him wanted a little bit of breathing room for himself. He hadn’t dated in years and didn’t go out much on his own. Maybe he was just waiting for me to move out so that he could start living his life.

Of course, he’d never explicitly said anything to make me think this way, but I knew it couldn’t have been easy raising me on his own. Even a well-behaved kid was a big responsibility for one person to shoulder. If anything, my good grades and lack of an arrest record were a testament to his parenting. Which is why I agreed to apply to colleges on the east coast. My dad had sacrificed a lot to be there for me while I was growing up. How ungrateful would I have to be to insist on going to a local college so I could continue living at home?

I was going to miss him though, so much.

“I don’t need a break,” I said, adjusting my backpack so that the straps were no longer digging into my shoulders. “Let’s go. I want to soak in the hot spring for as long as possible.”

I started off down the trail, with him trekking behind. I knew that he’d stay close. We’d never been separated on one of these hikes before, but we always had a plan in place in case it happened. In the event that we somehow managed to lose each other, we were to head for the old fire tower just north of Douglas Knob Meadow. The fire tower was unmaintained and closed for public use, but it was tall enough to be seen for miles, which made it the perfect meeting spot.

The trail took us past gorgeous waterfalls and gurgling pools of steaming water. It didn’t matter how many times we hiked here, the scenery never got old. I could still be moved to tears by the vibrant colors of a sunset.

About half a mile from the hot spring, we veered from the main trail onto the well-trodden path that would take us to Mr. Bubbles. On the way, we passed more pools of water, some of them colorful in a way that seemed almost unnatural. Vibrant blues, deep oranges, and golden yellow rings lined the edges of the pools. I could feel the scalding heat rising from them, though we were careful not to get too close. A breeze blew in from the forest around us, tousling the fine auburn hairs that had escaped my ponytail.

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Advertisement Love Daddy (Daddy Sized #4) Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/love-daddy-daddy-sized-4-read-online-margot-scott Fri, 24 Mar 2023 15:25:53 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/love-daddy-daddy-sized-4-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Romance Authors: Margot Scott Series: Daddy Sized Series by Margot Scott
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

An ex-con with a secret can’t resist his former cellmate’s daughter.

I never claimed to be a saint. But it wasn’t until I found myself in cuffs that I learned the damage I was capable of. The only sunshine on those gray prison days came in the form of letters from a hopeful teenager with a quick wit.
But the letters weren’t addressed to me. They were meant for my bastard cellmate, who’d sooner toss them on the floor with the rest of his trash.
So, I picked them up, read them, and wrote back, signing each letter, Love, Dad.
For four years, I kept up the lie, telling myself this girl deserved better than a deadbeat who won’t even open her letters. But the truth is, she deserves better than both of us.
My first task as a free man is to walk into the salon where she works and admit that I’m a liar. But the pink-haired, tattooed bombshell who greets me is a far cry from the awkward teen I envisioned.
Gone are the braces, the pigtails, and picture-day smiles. Tatum Fitzroy is a grown woman with a body like a winding backroad and a dirty-girl lip bite that makes me wonder if coming clean is really worth the destruction.

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

one

LUCAS

My heart is a jackhammer in the concrete of my chest as I walk into the salon. It’s stupid to be so nervous. This is just a fucking haircut, right?

Hell, who am I kidding? The truth is, I’ve been watching this salon from across the street for the better part of two days, waiting for a chance to make my move. I’ve orchestrated the perfect opportunity to bump into my target, all casual-like: afternoon on a school day during a barely cracked window of time when the moms of Knoxville can spare a few minutes to ditch their split ends.

The hum of blow-dryers fill the space like fog, pierced by bursts of laughter. I’ve waited ‘til the salon is so busy that they’ll have to put me with the stylist assistant.

Only, now that the moment’s arrived, I’m second guessing myself.

It’s innocent enough, this desire to see Tatum in the flesh. We’ve been corresponding for years; it’s only natural. I’ve long since memorized every precious word in each letter I received from her, so it’s easy for me to recall the details she shared about her job.

I guess everyone has to start somewhere, she wrote. But I’m SO eager to move off mannequins and onto real people. Honestly, it drives me bonkers, having to go grab lunches for the stylists, like that has anything at all to do with cosmetology. Still, the work is steady, and we get dental, so that’s something.

I couldn’t help smiling as I pictured her darting all over the salon, washing coffee mugs, sweeping up hair clippings, greeting customers. It’s a comforting scene, one that I played over and over in my mind like a movie whose leading lady has been my ever-constant companion during those grueling years on the inside.

Seeing it all live and in color right now is a head trip. The past few days, I’ve seen more of my fantasies come to life than I’m fully prepared to admit. Everything from a hot cup of damn fine coffee to a private shower, restaurant food to internet porn. Good Lord, they’ve made big strides in internet porn over the last six years. But that’s hardly my favorite thing about being a free man.

The best perk, hands down, has to be getting to see my pen pal in the flesh. For the past four years of my six-year sentence, I’ve been corresponding with Tatum.

Only, she doesn’t know it.

A receptionist glances up from her tablet and offers me a smile that showcases a smear of mauve lipstick on her teeth.

“Hi there,” she says with a soft Southern lilt. “How can I help you today?”

I scan the room, looking for Tatum, and note how almost every station is occupied.

Perfect.

I clear my throat. “Hi, um, I don’t have a reservation or anything…”

“An appointment?” the receptionist says gently, inclining her head. “Not a problem at all. We take walk-ins.” Her long, manicured fingernail clacks each time she touches the tablet’s glass face. “It looks like the only person available right now is our stylist assistant. Are you familiar with what that means?”

“Yeah, that’s fine—”

“It means she isn’t a full stylist. She’s still learning the ropes. But honestly, a men’s cut is easy-peasy, so I’m sure she’ll do just fine.” More tapping on the tablet. “Can I get a name, please?”

“Ah, Lucas Young?” I don’t know why I hitch my tone at the end, like it’s a question.

“And a telephone number?”

I clear my throat to loosen it. “What for?”

The receptionist sighs, some of the customer-service warmth draining from her smile. “So we can look up your account in the future, sir.”

I nod and give her the number, allowing my gaze to dart across the salon, trying to spot Tatum, desperate to see her coming. My palms feel clammy, and I can feel the pulse of my heartbeat in my neck. It’s an altogether unpleasant feeling that part of me hopes will never end.

A shock of pink emerges from around the corner of the L-shaped salon. My vision tunnels at her approach. Pink hair, pink lips. She meets my gaze, her eyes the pale blue of a summer sky after a storm. When she smiles, my heart stutters in my chest.

“You got a walk-in,” the receptionist says to Tatum.

“Hi there,” Tatum says, offering me her hand. I hesitate for a moment, drinking in the sweet anticipation of finally touching her skin. I take her hand, shake it, and don't want to let it go. "I'm Tatum. Why don't you follow me on back and we'll get you shampooed."

I nod and watch her as she turns on her heel and heads toward the back of the salon. The black-and-white checkered floor squeaks beneath the soles of my work boots, but I’m barely paying attention to that, or to the bustle of the busy salon around us. Instead, I’m watching her hips as they sway, struck dumb by the sight of her. She doesn't know me, but I know her. I have her high school graduation photo tucked gently into the folds of my wallet, like a treasure. But this is so much better. Seeing her smile, touching her hand. I swallow hard and try to think of how to couch the thing I’ve come all the way here to tell her.

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Advertisement Christmas in Eden Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/christmas-in-eden-read-online-margot-scott Fri, 09 Dec 2022 21:32:55 +0000 http://www.teennovels.net/christmas-in-eden-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Insta-Love, Novella, Romance Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >34

This obsessed daddy belongs at the top of Santa's Naughty List.

I wasn’t marrying for love. My foster brother’s widow needed health insurance and looking after. I’ve got a Chicago penthouse I barely live in and more money than God. It was a business transaction, plain and simple—until I met my new fiancée’s daughter.

Just like that, my once practical decision becomes a lot more complicated.

Eden is half my age and completely off-limits. I have no right watching her the way that I do, no justification for wondering how good she might taste. But I can’t help it. I’m obsessed with my new stepdaughter. Her face, her curves, her perfume.

But most of all, I’m obsessed with the way she calls me Daddy.

This December, all I want is the chance to show Eden how priceless she is. But when a certain Grinch threatens to expose our relationship, it’ll take a Christmas miracle to stop our holiday cheer from fizzling into silent nights.

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

CHAPTER 1

CHRISTIAN

My daughter, Brittany, pops her gum for the hundredth time. “So, when are Paulina and Edith going to show?”

I swallow a sigh. “You know their names.”

“Fine, Petra and Eden.” She rolls her eyes without glancing up from her phone. “When are they going to get here? We’ve been waiting forever.”

“They’ll be here soon.”

She wedges her wireless earbuds into her ears and turns in her seat to face the small round window.

The scruff of my beard catches on my palm as I scrub a hand down my face. I know Brittany isn’t thrilled about spending Thanksgiving with my new fiancée and her daughter, but the least she could do is try to be civil. I’m taking her to the island of St. Thomas on my private jet, just like she wanted. This isn’t an attempt to create some happy blended family; I’ve only invited Petra and her daughter as a gesture of good faith. Once Petra and I have signed the requisite legal documents, we’ll have very little to do with each other. We’re not betrothed for love or romance or any of the typical reasons. Rather, we’re getting married so Petra can stay in the country and receive top-notch medical care for her chronic illness.

Take care of my girls. That was my foster brother Dan’s last request before he passed away under mysterious circumstances.

Dan had gotten in over his head with a less than savory organization in Chicago’s underbelly, and not for the first time. About sixteen years ago, Dan came to me looking for help paying off a loan shark. He’d run with criminals before, but since he had a new wife and a young daughter to take care of, I’d hoped he was finally going to turn over a new leaf. In the spirit of tough love, I told him no, I wasn’t going to enable his bad habits. It was time he started thinking about how his lifestyle was affecting his family.

That was the last I’d heard from him. That is, until six months ago.

He came to me again, but this time he didn’t ask for money. I watched my brother get down on his knees in my office and beg me to take care of his family if something ever happened to him.

“I know you don’t owe me anything, Christian,” he said, his voice cracking. “But my girls don’t deserve to suffer for my mistakes.”

He told me his wife, Petra, had been recently diagnosed with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis, and he couldn’t risk the possibility that she might be sent back to Poland in the event of his death.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” I asked him. He wouldn’t give me details.

“Just promise me, Christian,” he said. “Promise me you’ll make sure Petra stays in the US, and you’ll look after my little girl.”

As a father myself, it broke my heart listening to him gush about how smart and kind and unlike him his daughter was. He knew Eden had a real shot at being successful, and he didn’t want the stink of his bad choices to stick to her after he was gone.

Stunned by my former foster brother’s ominous request, I relented.

“I promise to look after them.” Maybe I said it because I didn’t really believe anything would happen, or maybe I felt guilty that I didn’t help him all those years ago.

He left my office without another word. Days passed, then weeks. I figured he must have been paranoid. But that opinion changed when I received a call from his widow.

“He’s gone,” Petra said, her voice thick from crying. “They took him from us. They took…everything.”

She told me the truth, that Dan had been working as an informant for the police in their investigation of Dan’s boss, a powerful drug lord. Upon learning of Dan’s betrayal, he put a bullet between his eyes, then showed up at the family’s home to inform them that they’d been evicted.

“We were lucky,” she said. “Dan had kept me in the dark about most of it. That’s why they didn’t kill us.”

Unfortunately, he’d also kept her in the dark about the precariousness of their situation. Technically their home wasn’t their own. It had been a gift from his boss, part of his promotion within the criminal organization. Not only that, but their cars, antiques, even their bank accounts were stripped from them. All she and her daughter had were the clothes on their backs, a small bag of belongings they were graciously allowed to pack, and a letter from Dan explaining his agreement with me.

Petra assured me that she wasn’t going to force anything upon me since it was nothing more than a gentleman’s agreement. But I told her I was still going to honor it. In all honesty, part of me felt responsible for Dan’s death. Perhaps if I’d helped him instead of turning him away all those years ago, he wouldn’t have felt the need to devote himself to a criminal organization.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >34

Advertisement Daddy Fever – Filthy Dirty Summer Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/daddy-fever-filthy-dirty-summer-read-online-margot-scott Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:20:08 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/daddy-fever-filthy-dirty-summer-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Contemporary, Forbidden, Insta-Love, Kink Authors: Margot Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

This doctor daddy is ALL IN for his curvy patient.

Healing takes time. Whether it’s a broken bone or a laceration, patience is potent medicine.

The same goes for relationships.

I moved back to town hoping to patch things up with my son. Imagine my surprise when I meet his gorgeous best friend on the exam table at my OB/GYN office, hell-bent on ditching her V-card as quickly as possible.

That’s not going to happen.

As her doctor, it’s my duty to advise her to make safe choices about her wellbeing, and she deserves better than a drunken fumble with a careless frat boy. She deserves a man who will take the time to honor every inch of her luscious body. And I’m prepared to be whatever kind of man she needs.

Because if anyone’s claiming Natasha’s V-card, it’s going to be me.

For a complete list of themes, tropes, and TWs, please visit Margot Scott's website.

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

CHAPTER ONE

NATASHA

My best friend, Ollie, croons the lyrics to an upbeat pop song as he pilots his little Jeep through the busy streets of Knoxville. I hum along to the melody, noting how even the redbrick office buildings look downright cheerful, their faces lit up by the summer sun. Technically, there’s still a few weeks to go before the solstice, but as far as I’m concerned, summer began the moment our spring semester ended.

Nervous excitement spreads through my limbs like a fever. I’ve been looking forward to this three-month stretch of renewal, relaxation, and maybe even a little change.

A summer of change. I like the sound of that—carefully planned and thoughtfully executed, of course.

Ollie lowers the volume on the stereo. “Do you want me to go in with you this time?”

“No, thanks,” I say. “This appointment shouldn’t be any more complicated than a regular pelvic exam. I appreciate the ride though.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do. Knowing you’re coming with me to dinner tonight is the only thing keeping me sane.”

We pass twin parking garages, each one taking up the length of an entire city block, then make a right onto Highland Ave.

“The reservation is at seven, by the way,” he says.

“I know. I set a reminder on my phone.” I turn my gaze from the window to Ollie’s hands gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to wring its neck. Normally I’m the one double- and triple-checking our event schedules. I’m not used to seeing my best friend so anxious unless there’s a big exam or a cute guy involved.

“I’m just saying we can’t be late if we want to get on my dad’s good side,” he says.

“What makes you think we won’t be on his good side from the beginning?”

“Twenty-one years of experience.”

I offer him a reassuring smile. “I know it’s been over a year since you saw each other, but he reached out to you. That has to mean something.”

He makes a right onto Highland Ave.

“I doubt he moved back here just to spend time with me.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Even if he did move back for work, that doesn’t mean he can’t also be happy to see you.”

Ollie sighs heavily.

“Look, Nat, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I just want to focus on getting through this dinner without it turning into an argument. You know how critical he can be.”

I don’t know, not really. All I know about Ollie’s dad are the stories he’s told me. If my pre-law studies have taught me anything, it’s that most people aren’t very good at discerning the motivations of others. Doubly so when it comes to family. There are always two sides to a story; Ollie’s dad could mean well despite what his son thinks.

Still, I can tell Ollie’s not in the mood to give his dad the benefit of the doubt.

“You’re right,” I say, running a hand through his messy brown locks. “One thing at a time. We’ll get through this dinner together.”

“Thank you.”

I turn back to the window. To be fair, I’m not especially close with my own parents. We spend Christmas together and I try to make it back to Maryland once every summer, but other than that, I’m extremely independent. Ollie feels more like family to me than my extended family ever has, which is probably why I’m so invested in seeing him patch things up with his dad. I know, deep down, he wishes his dad would make more of an effort to get to know him. I want that for Ollie, too.

“Instead of focusing on something we can’t change,” Ollie says, shooting a grin in my direction, “let’s focus on something we can. You, Ms. Bellows, are now one step closer to losing that V-card.”

“Oh, please. Not this again.” I roll my eyes despite the smile on my face.

“Hey, you never know. Today could be the day.”

“Unless deflowering-via-speculum counts as doing the deed, I highly doubt it. And tonight we’ve got dinner lined up with your dad. So, no time for sex today, I’m afraid.”

“Not with that attitude, you don’t.”

I point out the OB/GYN’s office up ahead just in case he’s forgotten what it looks like in the weeks since my last appointment. The old stone building feels out of place among the vinyl-sided homes on the street. Ollie pulls into the parking lot, turns off the car, and looks to me.

“I’m serious, Nat,” he says. “We are going to check off every single task on your summer bucket list, starting with getting you laid. Convincing my dad to let us move into my grandpa’s old lake house is just the second step toward achieving our goals.”

“What was step one?” I ask as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“You getting an IUD.”

He wags his eyebrows suggestively.

I do, in fact, have a summer bucket list—or a fuck-it list, as Ollie sometimes likes to call it. Most of the tasks I’ve laid out are pretty boring. Read fifteen novels, see a fireworks show, spend a day at Dollywood. But at the top of the list is something far more personally significant: I want to lose my virginity.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

Advertisement Daddy Bod (Daddy Sized #1) Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/daddy-bod-daddy-sized-1-read-online-margot-scott Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:20:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/daddy-bod-daddy-sized-1-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Margot Scott Series: Daddy Sized Series by Margot Scott
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 >20

Jonathan
I know three things to be true: Pabst isn’t real beer, the Sox always lose, and wherever I am, I’m always the biggest guy in the room. People don’t just gawk when they see me coming. They keep their distance, which is fine by me. Why do you think I bought a fixer-upper in the country? Not for the creature comforts, that’s for sure.

But I don’t mind the manual labor, just like I don’t mind the solitude. I’ve got my own business and my DIY projects, and no room for anything—or anyone—else.

That is, until April Meyer shows up on my doorstep, all mouthwatering curves and anxious smiles, clutching a month-old advert touting a room for rent in my new house.

A girl her age doesn’t move to the middle of nowhere without good reason. I’ve made it my mission to unearth April’s reasons, but the more I learn, the more I need to learn. Soon, I’m not just coveting her desires. I’m bringing them to life.

April
I knew the ad was a long shot, and I wasn’t prepared for a giant to answer the door. Gazing up at Jonathan, I feel small for the first time in my life, like I could curl up in his lap, safe and warm.

Not that he’d let me. I fully expect him to send me packing, but he lets me rent a room. It's not my first choice to move to the country, but my stepmom threw me out when she discovered how I’ve been saving for college: working as a BBW cam girl, under the username UntouchedLibrarian, reading dirty books to strangers in my bra.

As soon as I’m back online, I meet a new customer, one who buys up all my private sessions for the month. Something about this mystery man feels familiar, yet different from the other men I’ve talked to. He doesn’t pressure me to take my clothes off. He just wants me to tell him my dirtiest fantasies, things I’ve never told anyone, about wanting to be cherished and sheltered by a man I call Daddy, who makes me feel like a pearl in his palm.

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

one

Jonathan

The hairs on my nape stand at attention as I ease the electrical wires through the hole I’ve cut into the drywall. Someone’s watching me. I sense the weight of their gaze on my back as I reach into my toolbox for a boxcutter.

“Are you a giant, mister?” says a small voice.

I spy the pint-sized owner of the voice, peering through the doorway to what I assume will be her mother’s walk-in closet after I’m done installing outlets and light switches. The child stares at me with nervous fascination, clutching a bright-orange plush pony. Even kneeling on the carpet, I’m almost twice her height.

“Only half giant,” I say with a wink.

The girl’s mother, a blonde woman with thick-rimmed glasses, appears at her daughter’s side. “There you are.” She smiles apologetically. “Sweetie, don’t bother the nice man.”

“It’s no bother, ma’am.” I note the way she eases her child behind her as I rise to my full height. At a whopping six-foot-eight, I’m willing to bet I’m the tallest man she’s ever found in her closet. Bigger, too, now that my metabolism’s slowed down after forty-five. I don’t work out as often as I used to when I was young, but surprisingly I haven’t lost any muscle. I’ve just cushioned my muscles beneath a layer of too much take-out.

Mother and daughter are already out of sight when the woman says, “We’ll let you get back to work.”

If I wasn’t already used to people’s reactions to my stature, I might be insulted. As it stands, I’ll take not-so-subtle distancing over bad jokes and inane questions. I return my attention to the electrical wire, removing the outer sheathing to expose the smaller cables inside. I attach the cables, install the outlet, and screw the whole thing into place. The wall plates won’t go on until after the wall’s been painted, but that’s a job for the next guy; I’m just the electrician.

I pack up my tools and head downstairs where the head contractor, Austin, and his guys are hard at work renovating the kitchen.

“Upstairs closet and bath are all wired,” I tell him.

“Perfect timing.” Austin’s a big motherfucker in his own right, but I’ve still got a good four inches and forty pounds on his linebacker frame. “And, Jonathan, thanks again for taking this one on such short notice. I can’t fuckin’ stand working with wild cards.”

“I appreciate the rec.” I don’t work for the construction firm Austin co-owns with his friend and business partner, Jonah. I was hired by the homeowner directly at Austin’s behest, because he knows I do quality, efficient work, and I clean up after myself. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up in here.”

“Sounds good, man.”

I slip out the back door and climb into my truck, grateful to be heading home while it’s light out. With the sun setting so damn early this time of year, most days I start and end work in the dark. I pick up a burger and fries for dinner, grateful for the advent of drive-thru takeout. It’s not that I hate all people. I just get tired of their wide-eyed stares and the jokes about joining the NBA or the weather up there.

My burger and fries are long gone by the time my tires hit the driveway. That’s the thing about living in the country: it takes a while to go anywhere and back. I spot the orange tabby cat curled up on my front porch. He’s been hanging around the property since I moved in. I have no clue what his name is, where he lives, if he used to belong to the previous owner, or if he’s a stray.

The cat stretches and yawns as I get out of my truck and set my toolbox on the steps.

“How ya doing, bud?” I scratch the side of his face and behind his right ear. He purrs loudly.

I didn’t used to feel one way or another about cats, but something about this little guy tugged at my sympathies. Maybe because it took a few days for him to warm up to me, like he was used to being on his own. Independent, solitary.

“You hungry?” I ask. He chirrups and jumps off the porch, weaving between my legs. I follow him into the barn where I keep a folded blanket and bowls of dry food and water beneath a heat lamp set to low.

I pour some kibble into his bowl and top off his water dish with what’s left in my bottle.

“It’s supposed to drop below freezing tonight. Stick close to the heat lamp.” So far, the cat has yet to accept my invitation to enter the house, even on the coldest of nights.

I leave the tabby to his dinner and stride into the house, kicking my boots off in the mudroom. While washing the grease from my dinner off my hands in the farmhouse-style sink, it hits me how much I’ve already gotten used to coming home to this kitchen.

<<<<1 2 3 11 >20

Advertisement Big Daddy (Daddy Sized #2) Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/big-daddy-daddy-sized-2-read-online-margot-scott Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:20:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/big-daddy-daddy-sized-2-read-online-margot-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Margot Scott Series: Daddy Sized Series by Margot Scott
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >35

Some guys take the easy way out. Not me. I work hard and I work out even harder.

My sister would like to see me settled down with a family, but running a successful gym while building a fitness empire takes time, sweat, and discipline—three things I can’t afford to spare even for a chance at happy ever after.

Then the new yoga instructor struts into my gym looking like the ultimate cheat day.

She’s nearly half my age, but this curvy redhead’s got my blood pumping in areas that aren’t exactly work appropriate. Now I’m rethinking my priorities, imagining a future that involves the two of us tangled up in some very compromising positions.

Some people are ruled by their cravings. I didn’t know I was one of them until I met her.

Author's Note: Slip into something spicy with Margot Scott’s new Daddy Sized Series, bursting at the seams with older daddies who can't keep their hands off these curvy heroines. Big Daddy is a fast and filthy standalone age-gap instalove romance, featuring NO cheating between the H&h, and a guaranteed HEA.

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

one

BEN

Electro-pop music and the clinking of dumbbells fills my ears as I step through the entryway into Gold Standard Fitness. Most of the time, I barely register the ever-present scent of sweat that permeates the large space, but I’ve been travelling the past few days; it’ll take at least a few hours for my nose to acclimate.

Technically I’ve got no good reason to be at work tonight, but I wanted to get a few reps in before heading home. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and working out usually helps me clear my head. Even if I’m running on fumes, I know from experience it’s better to power through here at the gym rather than toss and turn in bed all night long.

I wave to Moodie, our general manager, at the front desk, then head on back without bothering to scan my card or sign in. Being able to come and go as I please is just one of the perks of owning the place—well, co-owning the place. With any luck my business partner has already gone home.

I’m trying to keep a low profile, keeping my head down and my steps quiet, since I don’t really want to talk to anyone before I get a chance to unwind on the machines.

“Benjamin Gold, what the hell are you doing here?”

Damn, so close. I glance longingly at the weight rack before turning to face my co-owner’s disapproving gaze.

“Just here to work out, Barb,” I say. Even though I’m almost a foot taller than Barbie, her presence looms over me. I’ve never figured out how she’s able to make herself seem so much bigger than she actually is. It must be an older sister thing.

“Work out, my ass.” Barbie raises an eyebrow at me. Her blonde hair is styled perfectly, and her makeup looks pristine, though she’s probably done at least two hours of cardio today. She gives me a light punch on the arm. “You’re supposed to be in Chattanooga.”

“I came back early.”

“Then you’re supposed to be taking the weekend off to relax.”

“I happen to find working out to be highly relaxing.”

“Now I know you don’t expect me to buy that.” Her mouth tilts into a frown. “I take it the showing didn’t go well?”

“Not so much.”

“That’s the third showing in two months,” she says with a sigh. For the past few years, my sister and I have been tossing around the idea of opening a second location. We’ve had a major uptick in revenue, and with the boom in new memberships, now seems like the perfect time to expand.

Well, it would be the perfect time if we could find a fucking second location.

“Did you at least have a nice trip?” she asks.

“The traffic wasn’t too bad this time, and the hotel breakfast was decent.” I jerk my head in the direction of our offices, figuring we might as well sit down if we’re going to continue this conversation. Barbie follows me, shutting the door behind her and then taking a seat in the chair opposite my desk.

“All right,” she says. “Lay it on me. What was wrong with this one?”

“It would be quicker to list what wasn’t wrong with it,” I grumble. “Not only did the listing conveniently choose not to disclose the extensive water damage in the basement, it left out the best part.”

“Which was?”

“The family of squirrels living in the walls.”

Barbie drops her forehead to her hands and groans loudly. She gives herself about ten seconds of moping before picking her head up with a look of newfound determination.

“Okay.” She claps her hands. “This is okay! Remember what mom always said. ‘Don’t push it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.’” She’s clearly grasping at straws to find a positive in this situation, but even I can’t fault her for trying to stay optimistic. “Maybe this is a sign that we should take a break from scouting for a while and wait for some more locations to pop up.”

“Fine by me,” I say, barely suppressing a yawn. I sit down in my office chair. “I could use a break from travelling so I can focus more here. I’ve been meaning to call Jonathan about doing some electrical work in the locker rooms.”

Barb’s face softens. “Ben, you could use a break from work in general. Look at you, you’re bone tired. You know it’s okay to take a day off every once in a while. You’ve been working too hard. Even you need rest.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine, Barb. I just didn’t sleep great last night.”

“That’s funny, how you think I’m asking you. No, little brother, I’m telling you to take the night off. Go home, go to a bar, flirt with someone cute. Whatever you need to do to relax, do it. Or else you’ll just burn yourself out.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >35

Advertisement Run Baby Run (Daddy Loves You #1) Read Online Margot Scott http://www.books2020.com/run-baread-online-run-daddy-loves-you-1-read-online-margot-scott Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:19:59 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/run-baread-online-run-daddy-loves-you-1-read-online-margot-scott Genre: BDSM, Erotic, Insta-Love, Kink, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Margot Scott Series: Daddy Loves You Series by Margot Scott
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >42

Daddy loves you, baby…

I never thought I’d fall for a man like Jonah. A former cop has no business being with someone like me, a lonely unwanted girl with no address or family.

But for some reason, he wants to take care of me.

When I needed a place to stay he opened his doors, and as soon as I stepped inside, it felt like home. For the first time in my life, I feel safe enough to stop running.

He wants to give me a second childhood, better than the one I've known.

A chance to be the little girl I've always been in my heart.

Jonah's baby girl.
Daddy's angel...

Introducing book one in the Daddy Loves You Series from Margot Scott. This new series is bursting at the seams with fast and filthy age-gap instalove. Absolutely NO cheating or cliffhangers, with a guaranteed HEA!

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

Chapter One

Teagan

Mary, my social worker, slides her palm across her desktop’s faux-wood finish. “It’s okay to be nervous, Teagan. This is going to be a big change for you.”

I’m used to Mary worrying about me. She’s been my case worker for the past three years, so technically, it’s her job to worry. But today her concern is dialed up to eleven because it’s my birthday. I’m eighteen years old, which means I can legally discharge myself from the foster care system, and after far too many mind-numbing conversations about what’s best for me, that’s exactly what I’m here to do.

“You can stay on until you’re twenty-one,” Mary says for the hundredth time.

If my hands were resting on the desk instead of clasped tightly in my lap, I'm sure she would try to hold one of them. But they aren’t, so she can’t, and I’m not about to give her the chance to try.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re being abandoned. We could see if there are any beds available in the transitional homes. Somewhere with a bit less supervision, if that’s what you’re after.”

I’ll admit, she’s more than earned her paycheck laying out all the resources I qualify for. Programs to help me with budgeting, mentoring and counseling, even college prep. But the thought of being passed around from one living situation to another for the next three years is enough to make me want to jump off a cliff. I can couch surf on my own, thank you very much.

“Teagan?” Mary says. I look at her. “Are you sure you have somewhere to go?”

What Mary doesn't know—what I haven’t told anyone—is that I’ve managed to reconnect with a satellite member of my bio family. My dad took off when I was four years old, two years before my mom died from an overdose that punted me into the foster-care system. But before she died, my dad’s brother, my Uncle Craig, used to come around every couple of months, always with a coloring book or a stuffed bear for me, and a carton of cigarettes for my mom.

"Let me make some calls," Mary offers. "I can find you a bed for tonight, and maybe a more long-term living situation after that."

I shake my head. I don't need Mary’s help now, not that I ever needed it. I can take care of myself. Besides, I have zero interest in sticking around Knoxville. Or Tennessee, for that matter. My Uncle Craig’s invited me to tag along with him to Los Angeles. He has friends there who can hook us up with jobs and a place to live. Once we’re settled, he says he’ll see about getting in touch with my dad.

All I have to do is come up with my share of the funds.

I've managed to pull together over two thousand dollars designing tattoos for co-workers and stocking groceries at Trader Joe’s. I swear, I was never so happy as when I gave my two-week’s notice.

Goodbye minimum-wage grind, hello ocean breeze and California sun.

In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have quit so soon, but I’m itching to leave. And with the money I’ve saved, I bet we’ll be on the road by next week.

In the meantime, I’ll crash at Craig’s place. He hasn’t officially offered, but considering the cash I’ve already given him—six hundred toward a used car, plus all the free food from Trader Joe’s—it’s like I’ve practically made a down payment. I haven’t decided how I feel about seeing my dad after fourteen years, but I’d be lying if I said the idea didn’t give me butterflies.

Mary slides her hand back to her side of the desk, looking disappointed, yet resigned. I know she just wants to reassure me, and judging by the family photos all over her office, I bet she’s the sort of mom who hugs her kids all the time. But Mary’s not my mom, and as of today, I’m no longer her problem. Even if I was, there’s no way in hell I’d let her hug me.

I’m no stranger to the kind of shit that can happen when you let your guard down.

The first time one of my foster dads tried to slip into my bed, I screamed so loud the neighbors called the cops. The second time, I jammed a pair of scissors into his shoulder. They moved me out pretty quickly after that.

My last case worker, Chester, ascribed my aversion to physical contact to being abandoned by my dad and neglected by my mom when I was little. He said we all crave touch from the time we're born to the day we die, and that denying ourselves this natural impulse is bad for our mental and physical health.

Naturally, when Chester laid his sweaty hand on my thigh, I responded by indulging in the natural impulse to stab him with his favorite pen.

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