Paying Daddy’s Debt

By Alexa Riley

When Ash Carpenter imagines a schoolgirl, the image doesn't match her. She wears long skirts that are sort of frumpy. Her bulky sweaters hide her shape, and her hair is always in a messy bun. Her tennis shoes are clunky and worn, and there are runs in her thick tights. Her dark-framed glasses hide some of her face…but not all of it. Because he's caught sight of those ice-blue eyes, and they've pierced him to his core.

She walks by his office every day, and finally he's had enough. Ash decides he's tired of waiting and it's time to collect what he's owed. She'll come with him, because there's no other choice. 

Warning: Oh, honey, this is about to get filthy. If your delicate sensibilities can't handle the dirty, then step aside for those of us who can. It's quick, but it's just the right length, if you know what I mean. *slow wink, elbow nudge, goofy snort* 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexa Riley
• Release date: Jul 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393313465

Alexa Riley

New York Times bestselling author Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes. They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you! www.AlexaRiley.com

Book preview

Paying Daddy’s Debt

Paying Daddy’s Debt

Alexa Riley

Contents

Paying Daddy’s Debt

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Her Touch

Prologue

Chapter 1

Stalk the Author

Copyright © 2016 by Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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Paying Daddy’s Debt

by Alexa Riley

When Ash Carpenter imagines a schoolgirl, the image doesn’t match her. She wears long skirts that are sort of frumpy. Her bulky sweaters hide her shape, and her hair is always in a messy bun. Her tennis shoes are clunky and worn, and there are runs in her thick tights. Her dark-framed glasses hide some of her face…but not all of it. Because he’s caught sight of those ice-blue eyes, and they’ve pierced him to his core.

She walks by his office every day, and finally he's had enough. Ash decides he's tired of waiting and it's time to collect what he's owed. She'll come with him, because there's no other choice. She'll pay her daddy's debt any way Ash sees fit. 

Warning: Oh, honey, this is about to get filthy. If your delicate sensibilities can’t handle the dirty, then step aside for those of us who can. It’s quick, but it’s just the right length, if you know what I mean. *slow wink, elbow nudge, goofy snort*

Chapter One

Jasmine

J asmine.

I look up at Mr. Clark over the top of my glasses. Sometimes I don’t even know why I wear them. The scratches are so bad on them, they can be hard to see through. But they’ve always felt like a barrier between me and the rest of the world. It’s something I want kept in place, even if they don’t work.

The bell has rung, he says, glancing over at the clock, telling me something I already know.

I heard the bell ring. I just wasn’t in a hurry to leave the classroom like everyone else. I’m not in a rush to join the crowd of milling students trying to get out the door, all of them running and bumping into each other. I hate crowded rooms. The walls always seem like they’re closing in on me. One would think I’d be used to it, growing up in a busy city, taking the subway or buses to and from school. But no, I’m still not accustomed to the feeling. Not even after eighteen years.

Sorry, Mr. Clark, I say, packing up my bag.

Have you heard back from any of the colleges you applied to yet? I’m still willing to put in a good word for you, if you’d like, he says, coming around his desk as I make my way to the front of the classroom.

Mr. Clark likes to stare a little too long at me. A lot of my father’s colleagues do it as well. It makes my skin itch, and I have to stop myself from scratching. My father calls it fidgeting and yells at me to stop doing it.

I’m good, thank you, I tell him politely, trying not to engage in more conversation.

I’m not going to bother with telling him I didn’t apply to any colleges because I didn’t have the money to pay for them. I made good grades and went to one of the best private schools in the state, all thanks to a dead grandfather I’d never met. But my grades weren’t good enough for any scholarships. Not with a school like this, where making a 4.0 is common.

It’s a school I don’t really belong at. I stand out—a poor girl surrounded by kids that drive