My Boyfriend’s Grumpy Daddy Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)

This Thanksgiving, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet. My son, Brody, bringing home his latest girlfriend…not so much.But when the most gorgeous little girl on the face of the f*cking planet climbs out of his car, all bets are off.Delia is mine from the second I see her.Especially when I find out they’ve broken up.She’s a ray of sunshine I don’t deserve, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let hergo once she gives herself to me.Brody has other plans, though.After treating her like shit, he and his friend try to ruin us, come between us, and make Delia cry. Who the f*ck do they think they are? What right do they have putting her through this?Fury curls hot and unstoppable in my gut because as long as I’m alive, no one will ever hurt her. No one. Not even my own son.He’ll learn the hard way that Delia and I aren’t playing around and just hooking up. No! This is for life. This is forever.The sooner he gets that through his thick skull, the better.

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




On my back in the wide open garage, I crank the wrench and feel the bolt turn easily. There's no way in hell I'd ever let anything rust on my bike, so these tune-ups tend to always be more pleasant than frustrating. Stress isn't something I need any more of, being the Chief of Police around here.

It's not like Wickford, Rhode Island is a haven for crime or anything, but hell...people can certainly get up to some bullshit no matter what the location. I'm hoping it will be a quiet weekend since I left the Lieutenant in charge this weekend. Taking days off isn't something I usually do, but my son is coming home for Thanksgiving.

My son and his new girlfriend. Well. Whatever flavor of the week he drags here, I mean. Girlfriend is a strong word when it comes to Brody Dixon. The thought makes me scowl. I hate how much of a little prick he is to these girls.

I've wanted more for my son for as long as I can remember, but he's proven to be both girl-crazy and lazy. He lucked out with some IT job outside of Providence, and it lets him sit on his ass in an office basement for most of the day. I don't know what kind of woman he thinks he's going to bag with a work ethic like that, though. I wonder what lie he's managed to tell this new one.

Cranking the wrench again, I blow out a breath. I don't even want the two of them here, but family is family. Brody is probably hoping for a few free meals and a chance to charm his little piece with the small town he grew up in. Wonder what he told her about me—his asshole Police Chief dad.

The streets here are quiet, and I hear the car before I see it. An obnoxious green Kia Soul—like an ugly ass shoe box on wheels—comes down the road, and I take a deep breath to brace myself for what I'm going to have to deal with now. Maybe it won't be so bad. I've already gotten the spare room made up, and if I can just avoid Brody for most of the weekend, then we might make it through without arguing. He calls me an asshole, which might be true, but I'm also a realist. And Brody really gets on my nerves these days.

I grab a shop towel and start to wipe my greasy hands on it, standing as the car pulls into the driveway. My house isn't big, but it's well maintained, all by my own hand. Brody has expressed frustration in the past that I don't buy something newer and bigger considering how much money I make, but what's the point? I live alone, and I like the old house.

Just a brick ranch with a dark gray roof, a nice little backyard, and a garage big enough for my cruiser, my bike, and whatever project car catches my eye. It wasn't until he was a teenager and started to get an eye for the finer things in life that my son ever had a problem with his childhood home. It might have bothered me then, but I don't give a flying fuck anymore.

The driver's side door of the Soul opens, and Brody climbs out, looking like a weaker version of me from twenty years ago. He gives the house a sneer but wipes it off his face quickly enough when he looks over at me and raises a hand. "Hey, Pops. Long time no see."

Still wiping my hands, I start to saunter down the drive to him. Then the passenger door opens, and an angel climbs out, stopping me dead in my tracks.

Fuck me.

She's gorgeous. Long brown hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the sun, and she's wearing a white t-shirt and tight black jeans that mold perfectly to her generous curves. She's a little bit hippy and all legs, and damn…

I think I just stopped breathing. She hasn't seen me yet, stretching her arms over her head so her tits strain against her shirt. Holy shit, this is who Brody brought with him? This fucking goddess? Surely this can’t be his girl. There’s no way in hell because as soon as I see her, I know something without a shadow of a doubt.

She’s mine. All mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

I want her. Damn, do I want her. Her heart-shaped face turns up to meet my eyes, and hers are a bright cornflower blue. A soft pink blush colors her cheeks and her lips part. Her lips are lush, pouty, and full, and I think about her wrapped around me, her mouth full of my cock and that blush coloring her skin.

What the hell is wrong with me? I've never had such a visceral reaction to a woman before. Not ever.