Three Dirty Harts by Cara Dee
Title: Three Dirty Harts
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Erotica
Pairing: Daddy Kink/MFM
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Belle has a wicked fantasy and a secret desire, and she doesn’t know how to hide her feelings anymore.
Andrew has a passion for family and a love for detail, and there are no words that can describe how much he’s looking forward to having his stepdaughter and his younger brother home for the summer.
Jace has an eye for beauty and a thirst for adventure, and he’s the first one to notice that something is different when Belle steps off the plane. From the outside, these three don’t seem to have much in common. But on the inside…their hearts are as dirty as they come.
I made a dismayed face in the rearview mirror and rolled up the sleeves of my button-down. If my hair had been lighter, those spots of silver would have been less visible. Alas…they shone like a beacon.
Should I dye it?
“Are you becoming vain?” Jace asked.
“No, but evidently I’m becoming old,” I muttered and left the car. Something was missing—and had been missing for a while. I couldn’t put my finger on it, only that I wasn’t content with my life anymore. As soon as I figured out what to change, I would. Until then, it looked like I’d be complaining about a whole lot. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to shave.”
Belle coming home was a special occasion to me. Jace didn’t have to look like a slob.
I’d made sure the cleaning service had been extra-thorough yesterday, and I’d ordered Belle’s favorite flowers for her room. Or was I taking things too far? Was I too old-fashioned? I was going to spend the summer with my carefree little brother and my twenty-year-old stepdaughter; I wanted them to find me fun, too. I wasn’t only the…parent, for lack of a better word.
Jace ignored my remark with a smirk, and we entered the bustling airport to bring Belle
“How the fuck are we supposed to find her?” Jace grunted. “Christ, I hate people.”
This from the young man who missed having a social life.
I couldn’t blame him, though. Once upon a time, I’d loved Seattle. Now I was much more comfortable in our little town a couple hours north of here. An hour and a half, if Jace was behind the wheel.
As for Jace’s question, I had an answer. “She’s dyed her hair pink, she told me.” I hadn’t seen it yet myself because the last time we spoke, it was over the phone. I’d had this image of a shock of bright hair until her soft laughter had filtered through the receiver and she’d told me it was “faded magenta.” Whatever that meant.
We stood in a sea of arrivals and their families, and I checked my watch. It’d been a while since she’d landed, so she should be here soon.
Jace made a noise. “Holy fuck.”
“What, how pink is it?” I lifted my gaze, scanning the crowd.
“No, that’s not… Uh.”
I frowned at him, then searched for Belle some more, and—goddamn it all. Motherfucker. She emerged with a bright smile as she looked for us. I could only stare. My chest seized, and a flush spread up my chest. Unlike my brother, I’d known that she’d matured to an extent, and it was still a shock. Her gorgeous face had filled the screen of my laptop or phone whenever we Skyped; seeing her body was a whole other experience. And what the hell was she wearing? Those couldn’t be called shorts. The denim rode up high enough to reveal her pockets. Underneath an open flannel shirt, a skimpy top hugged her generous curves.
“Keep that reaction to yourself,” I told Jace, half irritated. With him or myself, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps both. “Belle!” I started walking toward her so I could help with her luggage. Her hair was oddly cute, the long waves shifting in subtle shades of pink. My mouth stretched into a wide smile as she spotted me, and I even had to swallow a lump of emotion. At that point, I successfully pushed aside the unspeakable reaction I’d had, and I hurried to get her in my arms.
“Daddy-o!” She threw her arms around my neck, and I lifted her off the ground.
“God, I’ve missed you.” Tightening my hold on her, I breathed in her light, sweet scent and reveled in having her home again. “My darling, why do you insist on living so far away?”
She laughed tearfully. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t wait to be done with uni.”
That did make me feel better.
“Look at you, picking up local slang.” Jace walked up behind us with a grin, and Belle was quick to give him a hug too. “When the fuck did you grow up?”
I shot him a look.
Belle smirked and wiped her eyes carefully. These days, she wore makeup. “My
roommate taught me a lot. She’s studying to become a stylist.”
“There’s not a thing you need to learn,” I told her firmly and grabbed her roll-aboard. “You’re beautiful as you are.” Maybe a bit too beautiful.
“Such a dad response.” She hugged my arm and held on as we made our way outside. “Can we eat at Coho? I’m starving.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart.” I kissed the top of her head.
I’m often stoically silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve. Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.