Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Read online

  Mister Bossy

  A Small Town Single Dad and Nanny Romance

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Contents

  Stories by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  About “Mister Bossy”

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Epilogue

  What to read next?

  You can find me here

  Dirty Cameos & Easter Eggs

  Stories by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  The Playboys of Sin Valley (Pre-order)

  Playing House

  Playing Pretend

  Playing Along

  The Bad Boys in Love Series

  Mister Billions

  Mister Baller

  Mister Baby Daddy

  Mister Bossy

  The Blue Collar Bachelors Series

  Lover Boy

  Play Boy

  Bad Boy

  Hot Boy

  Rich Boy

  Dream Boy

  Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set

  The Dirty Suburbs Series

  Dirty Neighbor

  Dirty Player

  Dirty Stranger

  Dirty Favor

  Dirty Lover

  Dirty Farmer

  Dirty Silver

  Dirty Forever

  Dirty Christmas

  The Esquire Girls Series

  Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Madison’s Story

  For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Ruthie’s Story

  Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Hailey’s story

  Moments with Hailey (Hailey - Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Esquire HEAT Series

  A Very Eager Intern

  A Very Frustrated Attorney

  Psst…Join Dirty Folks, my Facebook reader group, to always be in the loop about what I’m working on next!

  About “Mister Bossy”

  He’s my boss. My grumpy, jaded, fresh-out-of-jail boss.

  Falling for him is not okay.

  Too bad I’m already up-to-my-eyeballs in love.

  I always imagined myself with my very own Prince Charming. The kind of man in those fairytales I grew up reading.

  And when Eli Kingston shows up in Crescent Harbor—grumpy, jaded and fresh out of jail—I know he's not the one for me.

  So what if I find myself living under his roof, as nanny to his adorable daughter?

  I can resist his wide shoulders, his muscled forearms, the big d*ck energy pinging off him like electromagnetic waves.

  Like I said, he's not the one.

  But seeing him turn to goo for his daughter? That's my weak spot, right there.

  Watching him banter with his brothers? There goes another point in his favor.

  Seeing him fight like hell to rebuild the life he lost when he got tossed into jail? I'm Team Eli all the way.

  Soon, I discover that his kisses are magic. And when our bodies meet, it's almost too good to be true.

  Now, I've got capital-F 'feelings' for my boss. Our love is unfolding like the storybook romance I've always dreamed of.

  But here's the thing—Eli's not the only one with a secret. I've got a big, bad monster hiding out at the bottom of my panty drawer. (Not the battery-operated kind, unfortunately).

  When he discovers that I’m not as innocent as I seem, will the pages of our fairytale go up in flames?

  Mister Bossy is a steamy, laugh-out-loud, single dad and nanny small town romance featuring a schmexy ex-convict daddy with a big, big heart under a big, big layer of concrete. It is set in small town Illinois and is the conclusion to the Bad Boys in Love series.

  1

  Jessa

  And they lived happily ever after…”

  I sigh dreamily as I close the children’s book and clutch it to my chest.

  What I’d give to meet a real-life prince like that, right here in Crescent Harbor.

  Fluttery sensations dance in my belly when my eyes drift to the handsome face encased in a wooden picture frame sitting on the pastel pink night stand.

  Tall and dark-haired with wide shoulders and a twinkling smile. A clean-shaven businessman with a powerful body perfectly sculpted for wearing custom-tailored suits.

  I imagine him with a deliciously possessive bad boy edge.

  And the superpower to dissolve my panties with just a few dirty words whispered into my ear.

  And big dick energy pinging off him like electromagnetic waves.

  And—

  “I love that story,” a little voice murmurs sleepily, shredding through my reverie just as things are beginning to heat up. I always get a little carried away when I start to daydream about this guy.

  I glance at Callie where she’s snuggling down into her pillow.

  “I know, right?” I whisper, shaking off the remnants of my silly fantasy as I set the book on the night stand. “Me, too.”

  When I steal another quick peek at the photo in the picture frame, I get all those fluttery feelings again.

  I have a bit of a crush. Over the past few months, it’s been spiraling out of control. These days, the man’s gorgeous face stays on loop in my mind for hours on end. I can’t get him out of my head.

  But right now isn’t the time for daydreams. It’s time to get this little princess all tucked in for the night.

  I pull up the thick, mermaid-pattern comforter over the sweet five-year-old. She looks so tiny and innocent in the shadowy light of the bedside lamp. “I wanna marry a prince one day…” she mumbles as she gently fades into sleep.

  Smiling, I reach out and carefully brush her dark blond curls from her freckled cheek. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  My dating history has been comprised of nothing but a string of lacklustre dates and a few short-lived quasi-relationships that all fell flat. Still, I’m holding out for a whirlwind love story. A romance that will sweep me off my feet. An epic happy-ever-after with a guy who ticks off every item on my ideal man wishlist. I don’t care if that seems naive.

  I want a love where there’s butterflies and fireworks and pulse-pounding chemistry. I
want a love that feels like magic. I think that every girl deserves her own storybook romance.

  I’m a diehard romantic.

  Sue me.

  Callie’s eyes have already drifted closed. I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. My heart squeezes when she smiles in her sleep.

  I like children—a lot—but this kid? She’s carved out a tiny burrow hole for herself in my chest. One day—once I’ve met my dream guy—I’m going to have at least five little ones, just like her, running around.

  In the meantime, I’ll take what I can get as Callie’s nanny. Even if it isn’t exactly the career I’ve always seen myself in.

  I never expected it would take me this long to get a job as a kindergarten teacher. I earned an early childhood education degree from the best college in the state, after all, and I skip-hopped giddily into the work pool with a fistful of glowing recommendation letters from my professors. But after more than three years of searching, I still haven’t been able to land my dream job. So when the Kingstons offered me the chance to care for Callie, I couldn’t afford to turn it down. Quite frankly, it was a major step up from whipping up cappuccinos for minimum wage at the local coffee shop.

  And let’s just be real for a second—my body type is not suited for standard-issue coffee shop employee attire. My little butt looked like a friggin’ pancake in those ill-fitted uniform khakis.

  I rise from the edge of the bed. “Good night,” I mouth, even though Callie’s already fast asleep.

  My eyes fall on the homemade card her father sent her a few months ago at Christmas. I’ve read the card a dozen times. Still, I pick up the plain white copy paper again and peek inside at the stick-figure drawing of Santa Claus and a sorry-looking gang of reindeer.

  I grin to myself.

  Eli Kingston is severely lacking in his artistic skills, but—birthdays, Christmas, Easter—he never lets those special days go by without letting his little girl know that he’s thinking about her.

  It’s sweet. It’s sad, but sweet.

  Poor Callie has been through so much. Having her dad incarcerated before she even learned to speak in complete sentences. Having her mother abandon her and run out of town, leaving her practically an orphan. Thank heavens Eli’s parents were willing to step up and arrange for temporary custody of the little girl because I don’t want to think about what might have happened to her otherwise.

  I can imagine that Callie is going to have lots of questions about her parents as she gets older. But for now, I’m not even sure she understands what’s going on. I guess that’s been Mr. and Mrs. Kingston’s goal all along. Protecting their granddaughter from the harsh realities of life, preserving her innocence.

  And as her nanny, I’m committed to protecting her little world, too. Reading her bedtime stories. Letting her dress up in my lipstick and high heels. Playing make-believe.

  Allowing her to be a kid.

  Nannying may not be the career I planned in college, and this may not be the kind of family Callie expected, but we’re going to make the best of it. Together.

  I set the card back down, right next to Eli’s handsome picture on the night stand. I flick off the lamp then tiptoe out of the little girl’s bedroom. I’m officially off the clock. I can hear the faint chatter of the night receptionist coming from the lobby of the Kingston Family bed and breakfast. But this side of the building—the family’s private residence tucked away from the inn’s guests—is silent at this time of night.

  I duck into the kitchen for a quick nighttime snack. Then, I move down the hallway, making sure to be quiet in case Mr. and Mrs. Kingston are already asleep. I step into my bedroom.

  I lock the door.

  My own nightly bedtime routine isn’t exactly kid-friendly.

  I already feel tingles low in my belly as I light the scented candles on my nightstand instead of flipping on the overhead bulb. Chewing on my lip, I power down my phone and pull open my top dresser drawer. I rummage past my panties and socks until I find what I’m looking for.

  Gripping the stack of envelopes, I climb into bed. My pulse thumps a tiny bit faster, just like it does every time I re-read these letters I’ve received from my penpal over the past few months. His handsome face is taking shape in my head again as I flip through my collection of sexy mail.

  I like to think of these letters as my own grown-up bedtime stories. My hero may be naughty as hell but he always makes sure I get my happy ending.

  I can’t help but believe that if it wasn’t for this man’s misfortunate situation, he could very well be my own Prince Charming.

  I pluck one dog-eared envelope from the pile. Mmm. This one is my favorite. I pull out the folded up sheets of paper. It’s the same copy paper used to make Callie’s homemade cards and that makes me smile.

  Snuggling down under my blankets, I begin my voyage into the tantalizing world my penpal has created with his dirty words. A private world for just him and me. Excitement makes my heart race as my eyes flicker across the intimate confessions scrawled in ink on the paper in uneven lines.

  I need his words.

  I’ve never even seen this man face-to-face and he’s never seen me, but his words have ruined me for life.

  “I wish you were here. I think about what I’d do to you if I woke up with you locked in this cell with me. You’d probably stop writing to me if you knew what was in my head…If you knew what I want to do to you…”

  Licking my lips, I take a shaky breath and slide my polished fingers under the waistband of my sleep shorts.

  “I’d take each of your wrists and tie them to the metal bars of my jail cell. Then, I’d strip you bare. I’d stop and take a minute to appreciate your body. Your curves, your lips, the goosebumps on your skin.”

  My fingers travel lower. The space at the juncture of my thighs is already wet. The plain scrap of cotton is slick under my fingertips. I nudge the fabric aside. My other hand is shaking as I make a concerted effort to hold the letter close to my face.

  “I’d get so hard, listening to the sound of you whimpering. I want to hear you begging, like you can’t wait another second till I make you mine.”

  My head drops back to the pillow. My eyes flutter closed for a second as my fingers make circles and apply pressure. Late at night, re-reading all of his letters, it’s easy to forget that this man has no idea what I look like. Yet somehow, he makes me feel beautiful. Sexy. Seen. Like no other man has before.

  “I’d touch your skin. I’d spread your legs wide. I’d enjoy the way you shiver for me. The way you beg for me. But I’d force myself to take it slow. I’d get to know that sweet body of yours with my hands and my tongue.”

  My breath hitches. My fingers speed up before plunging into the most intimate crevice of my body. My spine curls. Everything inside me clenches.

  “Then, I would lick you, baby. Relentlessly. I wouldn’t stop until everyone in my cell block could hear you scream my fucking name.”

  Those last words of his always get to me. At the height of pleasure, I turn my face into my pillow. I cry out and the soft bedding muffles the sound as Eli’s words undo me.

  Yes. Eli. Eli Kingston.

  My criminal penpal. Callie’s father. A man who has no freaking clue who I am.

  Every girl deserves a fairytale. Unfortunately, my own fairytale is oh-so-complicated.

  2

  Eli

  Syrup,” I grunt.

  Ma startles next to me. “What’s that, dear?” She blinks in my direction.

  “Pass the syrup?” I repeat, my hand outstretched, my chin gesturing toward the plastic bottle just out of arm’s length.

  Cannon and Jude both pounce on the bottle at the same time. Jude grabs it up first.

  My youngest brother rushes to hand over the bottle. “Here you go, man.” He grins victoriously like he’s expecting a participation ribbon.

  Jude was always the goofy one.

  Dad watches me carefully as I pour the sticky sweet stuff over my waffles.
He hasn’t let me out of his sight since I showed up here unannounced a few hours ago. I’m starting to wonder if he’s monitoring me to make sure I don’t swipe the coin jar from the den.

  My parents prepared a breakfast to ‘welcome’ me home and two of my three brothers showed up. It’s been oppressive as hell, trying to ignore the prickly awkwardness in the room.

  “You want to throw a ‘please' or ‘thank you’ in there, son?” my father mumbles, reminding me that I lost all sense of etiquette while I was behind bars.

  Well, guess what? Niceties weren’t really part of my daily prison routine. The whole ‘gentleman’ act has no place in jail. You say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ at every turn, and I can guarantee you won’t be winning awards for congeniality. Instead, you might find yourself on cold asphalt, in the fetal position, as a bunch of amped-up jailbirds kick the fuck out of you in the prison yard.

  “Thank you,” I say to my brother, avoiding my dad’s gaze and letting the sarcasm drip from my syrup-sweet tone.