Caught By Daddy: A Forbidden Romance

By S.E. Law and S.C. Adams

Harlow: The man of the house and I aren’t exactly friendly per se. We live on different floors, so we don’t see each other most of the time. So how was I supposed to know that Sam could hear my music? I was minding my own business doing aerobics … in a bikini … okay, less than a bikini … when the doctor bursts in like a wild man! Creamy curves came flying out, bare and luscious, but what I didn’t expect? That the gorgeous physician liked what he saw.

Sam: I more than liked what I saw. I CRAVED what I saw. After all, Harlow’s been growing up fast. Maybe we don’t interact much, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve been secretly watching the scrawny teen transform into a sassy, bodacious woman, and now that Harlow’s been caught red-handed … I’m claiming what belongs to me.

Note to my readers: Our heroine was the naughty girl at the end of my previous book, Sold To My Boss’s Friends, who was on display at Club Z with buyers sampling her goods while considering a potential purchase! Well, now Harlow gets her own tale and it’s a crazy one where incredibly filthy shenanigans happen because who can resist a man like Dr. White? His thermometer is huge and he’s ready to use it wherever and whenever our heroine needs her temperature taken. Buckle up and get ready for the ride because we’re putting the pedal to the metal with this one! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.E. Law Romance Author
• Release date: Oct 18, 2022

Book preview

1

Harlow

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Istretch out across my queen-sized bed, dangling my bare feet over the edge of the mattress. A hot breeze blows in through the open window somehow making things even warmer, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. Lazily, I flip through a magazine and a pang strikes my heart because dang it, it’s yet another hot model with a huge, round bubble butt. She’s literally wearing leggings that have the seam that goes down her crack, emphasizing the curvature of her ass. Judging from the sly smile on her face, she loves how it feels too, wedgie or not.

Will you look at this? I whine, waving the mag at my friend Ramona. This is so unfair!

My friend’s not really listening. Instead, she sips on her lemonade while staring at a magazine of her own.

Do you think I could pull off bangs? she mutters while staring at a model on the page who is very French girl looking. She then flips the tail ends of her hair over her forehead, mimicking the model in the picture. What do you think?

I giggle a little. Well, you definitely look better than her, but seriously, are you into that French girl stuff? It’s so passé.

Ramona stares at me. She’s from Chicago, and only here for the summer, so she kind of worships the ground I work on, seeing that I’m a native New Yorker.

How can French style be passé? she stammers. I thought French-girl style was eternal.

I shrug.

It is because you know the image of French girls is always young, thin, white, cis, with brown bangs, red lipstick, and a beret tipped jauntily on their head. But these days, Paris is so cosmopolitan and it doesn’t reflect real life anymore. People are really pushing against that stereotype and want to expand the definition of your typical ‘French girl’ look.

Oh I see, Ramona nods, looking down wide-eyed at the magazine spread. Goodness, I had no idea.

My friend is the sweetest thing, and I lean in conspiratorially.

"Don’t get me wrong. You’d definitely look better than she does with bangs, I tell Ramona. But I wouldn’t do anything too drastic. Maybe try some layers first or something, I add in an airy tone. Curtain bangs, maybe? They’re the latest thing."

Ramona giggles. Girl, please. My whole summer is one drastic move after another so curtain bangs are not enough. But thanks for tipping me off. Who would have guessed about that French thing?

I nod and sit up a little, my body feeling sticky from lying against the warm duvet. Sure, no prob. But what do you mean about drastic? What’s so drastic that’s going on? I mean, of course we’re hostesses at a secret sex club, but … well, yeah, I guess that’s pretty drastic.

Ramona shoots me a droll look.

You think?

I giggle.

Okay yeah, so we’re definitely walking on the wild side. But is there something else?

My friend sighs deeply. I guess we haven’t really talked much about why I’m at Club Z, my buddy says quietly. Then Ramona goes silent, picking at invisible lint on my bedspread, so I take the initiative.

You’re doing it for the money of course! That, and the hot sex with billionaires, I grin.

But Ramona doesn’t look up, continuing to worry a loose thread on my bedspread.

Yeah, but the thing is that you know I’m just in New York for the summer right? That I’m actually from the Midwest?

I nod.

"Yes, but lots of peeps in NYC are from other places. There’s no such thing as a true New Yorker, in my opinion, and I’ve lived here for my whole life. I mean, I’m not ‘more’ New York than anyone else."

Ramona nods, still circling the subject.

Yes, but I’m actually still in school, so I’m returning to Chicago in the fall. To start my sophomore year of college, she clarifies in a slightly stiff voice.

No shit, I say in a slow voice. Wow. You’re real smart then.

Ramona looks up and smiles briefly.

Yes, but not that smart because my school’s expensive. Tuition these days is up the wazoo, and my family, while comfortable, isn’t really able to help me. That’s why I’m here.

I stare at her.

So you’re working as a hostess to earn money for school?

Ramona nods and bites her lip, looking down again.

Yeah.

I wave my hand and pshaw.

That’s nothing to be ashamed of! Hell, girl, that’s really amazing and totally legit. I’m glad you’re putting your earnings to good use.

Ramona’s smile is a little trembly, but then she shakes her head.

Yeah, but the problem is that my family and friends back in Chicago actually think I’m here for an internship. They think I’m working at a really prestigious architectural firm for the summer, but the fact is that I’m actually using this summer to moonlight as a sex worker to make as much money as possible.

I stare at her.

Holy shit. Really? No one knows what you’re really out here for?

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

No, because I’d be embarrassed and ashamed. My family would be shocked too. More than shocked. I think my parents would have a heart attack if they found out what I was really up to.

I raise my eyebrows. But is there someone who could help with tuition? Maybe a loan, even if there’s crazy interest?

Ramona shakes her head, her brown curls falling over her shoulders with the move. No, I wish. Honestly, I didn’t even ask because there’s no one in my social circle that has the money, so there was no point. So here I am, she says with a small smile. Secret sex party hostess extraordinaire.

Wow, I say respectfully. It must be so hard leading a double life, girl. But what do you say when your parents ask you about work? I ask as my friend sits up straight, stretching a bit.

She shrugs. I’m just really vague, like ‘oh I learned about all kinds of new roofing techniques today,’ which I know is silly, but they seem to buy it. I mean, it’s not like they know anything about architecture, so they wouldn’t even know where to start questioning my lie.

I nod.

Wow, is my murmur, humbled by Ramona’s situation and feeling a tad guilty for how fortunate I’ve been when it comes to money. Well, it could be worse, I say slowly. At least all of the guys at Club Z are rich and handsome. Not to mention they have more money than they know what to do with. It’s practically leaking out of their ears sometimes.

Ramona giggles a little, sitting down on my bed. Yeah, or spurting out of their crotches. But life is what it is, right? Besides, I’ll be honest and admit that although I thought this was going to be a terrible experience, it’s actually been amazing. I guess I’m a ho because I adore working at Club Z. It’s kind of nice turning off the lights upstairs, and just being a sex toy for rich men sometimes, she admits with a blush.

Oh girl, trust me, I know, I gush. I love it too and I’m just doing it for kicks. You know I don’t need the money, right? I ask.

Ramona nods.

I kind of guessed when you invited me to this townhouse the first time. I mean it’s huge. Do you live here alone? she whispers with awe.

I shake my head.

"No need to whisper because it’s only me and Sam here, and he’s never at home. So it’s basically just me rattling around this giant house by myself, kind of like the heroine from that book Rebecca. Or was it Flowers in the Attic? I always get so confused."

Ramona looks puzzled. Yes, but who’s Sam? I’ve never heard you mention him before.

I sigh and roll my eyes. He’s my stepdad, I guess. If you can even call him that.

Ramona looks even more confused.

What’s a sort-of stepdad?

I sigh and launch into a quick explanation.

Basically, Sam used to be married to my mom. But you know my mom passed away a decade ago, and she left me this house in her will. I never kicked him out, so we’ve both been living here for years.

Ramona nods slowly.

I’m so sorry to hear about your mom, she murmurs. But then she looks up. "Wait,