Rapunzel's Sweet Release

By Calista Jayne

Can two Prince Charmings rescue her from her tower?

Twenty-four-year-old Skye feels like she’s trapped in a tower, doomed to repeat the same, boring days over and over again. She’s held there not only by her tyrannical boss, but by her own fears about falling in love.

But a chance encounter with her sexy ex and his business partner shows her that there just might be a life worth living outside of her tower...if she’s brave enough to reach for it.

Rapunzel’s Sweet Release is a steamy, modern-day MFM fairy tale. It was previously published under the title Her Donut Daddies in the Eat Your Heart Out 2 charity anthology. This edition includes an all-new epilogue.

Looking for Fiercely Filthy Fairy tales, Book 2? That’s the novella version of Cinderella’s Daddies, and is currently available only to Calista’s newsletter subscribers. The Cinderella’s Daddies novelized series is published under the titles Falling for Them, Kneeling for Them, Submitting to Them, and Belonging to Them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calista Jayne
• Release date: Jun 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005880521

Calista Jayne

Calista Jayne adores filthy, smutty romances featuring dominant-yet-tender men. When not writing or reading, she’s falling in love with the heroes in K-dramas or walking along a California beach.

Book preview

ONE

Skye

People talk about wanting their lives to be fairytales. Adventure, romance, maybe a narrowly-avoided curse or two. Well, if my life were a fairytale, I’d be Rapunzel, locked in a tower and doomed to repeat every day, over and over, without the freedom to do what I really want.

But there’d be absolutely no chance of Prince Charming coming to rescue me. Not when I’m the type of woman my roommates like to call a hot mess.

And they would be right, for many reasons.

Example A: I push away anyone who gets too close to me. Daddy issues, probably, since my deadbeat father left when I was a teenager, and was emotionally unavailable prior to that. I don’t have too many regrets about pushing away guys…except for one.

Example B: I can’t seem to keep a job. I annoy my bosses with my chatter, I show up late because I don’t have things together, and I don’t read peoples’ intentions well enough to navigate promotions and friendships.

Example C: I accidentally put on mismatched ruffled socks today. One is cream, the other white. In my bleary-eyed, already-late-for-work rush this morning, they’d looked about right.

Example D: One of my sparkly barrettes is so hopelessly tangled in my hair, I’m going to have to take scissors to it later. In the meantime, I’ve shoved everything into a (very) messy bun, and I’m hoping to just get through my day as a harried personal assistant to the biggest tyrant in Fair Heights.

Skye! the deep voice of my boss, Phillip Boyd, barks. That would be the tyrant. I need the folder with all of the neighborhood details.

On my way, I say, scrambling for the folder that sits buried under several similar folders on my tiny desk. They all bear the company’s logo—AXC Properties.

Also, if my life were the Rapunzel story, it would have a controlling captor, just like the more popular animated version of the story. Only she would be a he, and his name would be Mr. Phillip Boyd, and he would be a total sleazebag.

As I grab the folder Mr. Boyd wants, the edge slices into my index finger.

Ouch! I squeak.

Paper cut? Camilla, my coworker and the closest person I have to a friend, asks from her desk across the room.

Yeah. I look down at my finger. A red line of blood blossoms from the slice.

Here, Camilla says, I have a bandage in my purse.

Camilla has twin six-year-old girls, and the bandage she hands me is Valentine’s Day themed—bright pink with red and white hearts.

Sorry it isn’t more unobtrusive, she says.

Are you kidding me? I ask. I freaking love this.

Yep, I’m twenty-four and I love fun, girlie things like patterned bandages and frilly socks, and funky, home-made charm bracelets. Always have and always will.

Maybe that’s the other reason I haven’t met a Prince Charming to whisk me away and give me oodles of orgasms. If I wore sexy shoes and a grown-up hairstyle, I might not look like such a mess.

Mr. Boyd’s voice booms at me again from his office. Skye! I need that Skaggs folder now.

I quickly wrap up my finger, grab the folder, and hustle into Mr. Boyd’s office. His blue eyes are currently focused on his computer, but he looks up when I enter the room. Phillip Boyd is undoubtedly an attractive man—he’s muscular, and he has a nice face with gorgeous eyes. But he’s such an asshole, I’ve never been tempted to fantasize about him.

I hold up the folder and say, Here you go, Mr. Boyd.

Just set it on my desk, he says.

Yes, sir. I place the folder on his pristine, polished desk.

You couldn’t wear something nicer? he asks, looking me up and down.

His perusal causes goosebumps to rise on my skin. I suppress a shudder and resist the urge to fold my arms over my chest.

These are my clothes, I say simply.

You dress like a little kid.

Not for the first time, I wish I could just give this guy the finger and walk away. But I’ve worked in every possible office in Fair Heights, and if I can’t keep a job for the remainder of the summer, my roommates are kicking me out. They aren’t being jerks about it or anything—I’m just flaky. Undependable. I don’t blame them for telling me I’m on my last chance, because we’ve had to scramble for rent one too many times.

Besides, Mr. Boyd isn’t even in the right, here. I’m professional…ish. I’m wearing a skirt and a button-up blouse. Sure, I’ve got on my favorite chunky charm bracelet and my socks have ruffles at the edges. And maybe my shoes are mary janes, rather than the sexy grown-up heels Camilla favors. But Camilla is a realtor, and I’m just an assistant.

Lose the bracelet, Mr. Boyd orders, pointing at my wrist. It’s distracting.

Sighing inwardly, I unhook the clasp and tuck the offending piece of jewelry into my skirt pocket. This guy is such a killjoy. The bracelet was a reminder of the fun and complete focus I had when I was sitting at the kitchen table with my jewelry making supplies. Now everything seems extra dreary in comparison.

Get out of here and make yourself useful readying the info packets, Mr. Boyd grumbles.

I hurry back to the front desk area to do his bidding. This job is the worst. But it beats commuting to San Esteban. Those freeways freaking terrify me.

I start shoving aside folders, searching for the info packets Mr. Boyd needs for Skaggs Mansion.

Skye, right over there, Camilla says, pointing to my overflow inbox that rests on a cabinet by the window.

Thank you, I say. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s a realtor, but the office is small, and Mr. Boyd has worked here forever, so he gets the private office and personal assistant, and she has to work out here with me. She deserves better because she works even harder than Mr. Boyd, but I’m so glad to have her in my corner.

Retrieving the info packets, I start sorting through, making sure we have at least a hundred to give away this morning.

Skye! Mr. Boyd calls again.

I jump