by Ford, Mia
Next Door Daddy
Mia Ford
Copyright © 2019 by Mia Ford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Published: Mia Ford 2019
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Contents
Author’s Note
Blurb
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
Epilogue
Excerpt
Author’s Note
Stay connected with Mia Ford
Also by Mia Ford
Author’s Note
Next Door Daddy is a full-length standalone novel. At the end, I’ve included an excerpt from my Amazon TOP 100 and bestselling steamy romance novel Accidental Meeting.
Next Door Daddy concludes at around 90% on your device.
Happy Reading!
XO, Mia Ford
Blurb
I’ve been saving my V- card for the s$xy single dad next door,
So what if he doesn’t seem to notice me yet.
I’ll do everything in my power to seduce him,
Even if it means being a nanny to his 5 year old.
Every moment spent in his house makes me fall further and further in love with him.
Talk about chiselled abs and hard muscles!
I don’t care about his billions,
All I want is being with him forever.
But he’s damaged goods,
And his past haunts us both.
The question is – Is love enough for this relationship to flourish?
Chapter One
Zoe
There are two major problems in my life.
The first I can see as I put my paintbrush down, sighing at the unfinished work on the easel in front of me. I eye it carefully, frowning at the harsh sketch lines and the contrasting colors on the canvas. I have been working on this piece for the last three days.
I don’t like it.
With another sigh, I pick it up and carry it over to a corner of the room, where several other canvases are sitting, abandoned. For weeks, I have been trying to find my muse and finish a painting. But nothing ever feels right.
Maybe it’s because of the colors? I cross the room and pick up my palette, studying the paints that I have squeezed onto it. Then I turn to look at the scattered paint tubes around the room. Maybe I should stop by an art supply shop on the way home and pick up some more paint? I did notice, yesterday, that some of the tubes are running out.
To get more paint, though, I need money. To get money, I need to either sell my paintings (which won’t happen while I can’t even finish one) or go to my job, which I hate.
Speaking of which…
I look at the clock. It’s eight thirty in the morning and I’ve been up for some time. It was stupid of me to have wasted so much time on a painting I can’t finish, but I am desperate to finish something.
Shaking my head at myself, I pick up my cooling cup of tea and carry it into the kitchen so I can tip it down the drain. I wriggle out of the apron I am wearing and toss it carelessly over the back of a chair.
I can see the sun shining brightly and I open my front door to catch a whiff of fresh, morning air. This is my favorite time of day, when the sun is casting beams of light over the green, dew-sodden grass, making it glitter.
Though, if I am honest with myself, there is another reason why this time of the day is my favorite. I step onto my porch, just in time to see the distant figure of my second problem in my life step out of the house next door.
Seth Gray, resident rich-guy and as hot as the sun. I see, as he walks down the path and gets closer, that, like always, he’s wearing a suit. As I watch, he’s adjusting the knot of his tie while he walks. I trail my eyes down the length of his body, appreciating the way the steel gray is cut perfectly to suit his tall, slim figure.
Pretending that I am here for more than just to catch an eyeful, I wander down the path to my mailbox. On the street, I can see a sleek black car, the driver at the wheel tapping on his phone as he waited for his employer.
I wonder what it would be like to be so rich that someone would arrive every day to drive me to work. When I moved into this house, excited because I had won a small fortune on the lotto and I was putting it all toward buying a house, I wasn’t told that I would be living next to a genuine billionaire. It had been hard to miss the sweeping grounds and the massive, two-story mansion that lived right next door, though.
I have never spoken to Seth, as much as I would like to. He’s always in a rush from one place to another, and his only visitors seem to be a revolving door of nannies for his young daughter, who I see playing in the yard on occasion. Sometimes, I attempt to catch his attention, but he never notices me. I don’t think he even knows I exist.
On the other hand, I took one look at Seth on the day I first moved in and found it impossible to look away. Everything about him captivates me, from his jet-black hair and dark eyes to his long, pianist fingers, to the smile that I only ever see if his daughter is around.
Sometimes, I imagine how our encounter will go. I can picture the way his eyes will linger on me, the deep, delicious baritone as he speaks to me, and the attraction that I know would spring up between us. I have never seen his daughter’s mother, nor have I ever seen him with a girlfriend, so I assume he is single, and that I might be the one to draw his eyes.
“Be good!” I hear him call, and I look up in time to see him rush through the gate, still doing up the buttons on his jacket with one hand, a briefcase swinging in the other.
He’s so close now that I can read the concentration on his face. I raise my hand and open my mouth to call a greeting. But the words get stuck before I can force them out, and he doesn’t even notice me as he goes through the gate and gets in the car.
The driver does, though. He has seen me trying to speak to Seth before, and he gives me a sympathetic look before nodding at something Seth says and driving away. I hunch my shoulders in embarrassment and disappointment before sighing to myself.
Not today, then.
I collect my mail, looking at the two envelopes. Neither of them is very interesting; one is a bill that I could deal with later, and the other looks like it could be from the local library, reminding me that I need to
return the books that I had borrowed.
The books in question are sitting on the kitchen table, all of them about art. I went to the library to borrow them a few weeks ago, in the hopes that looking at the pictures would inspire me, but it had been useless.
I sigh. Art and Seth…the two largest interests in my life, and I continue to fail at doing anything about either. I can’t finish a painting and I can’t say even a single word to Seth.
My phone rings at this moment, and I look at it, startled by the loud sound which cracks the silence of the morning. For a moment, I contemplate ignoring it, but then I sigh and pick it up. There are only so many people that would be calling me.
“Hello?” I say.
“Zoe!” I recognize the voice straight away, and I sigh; my best friend, Katherine, is always up with the sun, and I should count myself lucky that she waited this long to call. “How are you?”
“Busy,” I say bluntly.
Katherine is silent for a long moment. “The painting didn’t work out?”
I wince. She knows me better than I know myself, sometimes. “No…it’s no good.”
“Sorry,” Katherine says with a sigh. “What are you going to try next?”
“Mmm…maybe a beach theme?” I ask, tapping my fingers on the table. “You know, with the sunrise, and the water and the sand…maybe something beautiful like that will give me some inspiration.”
“Maybe,” Katherine agrees. “Or maybe you could try painting that hunk you live next door to.”
I regret the day I ever told Katherine about Seth.
“You know I can’t do that,” I sigh. “I haven’t even spoken one word to him.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t paint him,” Katherine points out in what she likely thinks is a logical manner. “After, you can go show him. It would be a conversation starter!”
“Oh yes, I can see how that will go,” I snort. “I can just say, ‘Hey, we’ve never spoken, but I live next door to you, and I needed inspiration to do art, so I decided to paint you’, right?”
“That sounds good to me,” Katherine agrees, and then she laughs. “Seriously, Zoe, just talk to the guy. That way you’ll stop pining after him, one way or another.”
“Katherine, he’s a billionaire,” I remind her. “Remember that time we looked him up? He’s internationally famous. You don’t just go up and talk to people like that.”
“I don’t see why not,” Katherine says, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “If he has a problem with someone like you talking to him, then he’s just a snob and not worth your time anyway.”
I sigh. “That’s hardly the point.”
“No, the point is that you keep thinking about the guy, and you aren’t even giving him a chance,” Katherine says, and I wince. Her voice softens. “Just go for it, Zoe. You’re gorgeous, he’ll definitely take a second look at you.”
I flush, not sure how to respond.
“I need to go; the kettle just boiled,” I cough.
“Yeah, yeah,” Katherine says. “You on for drinks later?”
“You bet!” I agree, glad to be off the subject of Seth. “The usual place?”
“Of course,” Katherine laughs. “You better come in with lots of cute stories about your animals!”
We bid each other farewell, and I hang up, feeling a little better. Katherine has been my best friend since we were children, and I can always count on her to make me feel better.
This morning, though, it’s hard to stay upbeat for long. I look around my home, taking in the dishes on the sink, the paints scattered everywhere, and I remember, once more, the way Seth’s eyes had simply slid over me, as though I wasn’t there.
Is this what my life is? Sitting in a tiny house, working a job that I hate because I can’t find the inspiration to do what I love, pining after a neighbor that doesn’t see me?
Not, I must say, that my job is all bad. I don’t like my boss, who is loud, obnoxious and likes to try and pay me less than what I normally earn. I also don’t get along very well with my co-workers; Sadie spends most of her time on the phone and Rick is arrogant.
But I like working with the animals. Since I work in a pet store, I can play with lots of different animals every time I work. My favorite animals are the cats; my main job is to play with them, feed them and keep them clean until someone comes in to buy them. Last week, we got some kittens in and they are adorable, especially a tiny, black brother-sister pair that stick to each other like glue.
Sometimes I wonder if having an animal around might help me. Looking after an animal would give me something to do, and I might not feel so lonely all the time. Then I remember that I don’t have the money to afford to keep an animal and that having an animal around paints would not be a good idea.
“I’ll get a cat when I’m rich and famous,” I promise myself, not for the first time, as I pick up some empty paint tubes and put them in the bin.
If I become rich and famous. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky if I ever manage to sell a single painting.
Pushing away the dark thoughts, I look at the time again on the clock. It’s still early, and I don’t have to be at work until this afternoon. Yawning, I wander into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.
I have paint on my fingers, and my hair is a nest of curls and knots. My uniform is folded neatly on the table, waiting for me to wear to work, so I head to the bathroom, pulling my shirt over my head as I walk and dropping it to the ground. The white sink, once pristine, is covered in paint stains, reminding me that I really need to give it a proper clean one of these days.
Maybe a little more sleep will do me good, I decide. I’ve been up since the early hours, working on the painting that I just discarded, and I have time for a nap before work. Sighing to myself, shrugging my shirt off so I’m just in my underwear, I slip under the sheets on my bed. I’m asleep in moments.
* * *
Of course, I dream of Seth. It isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.
Seth smiles at me, sultry and inviting, as he steps toward me, his hands raising toward me. His fingers brush against the skin of my smooth shoulder, and I shudder at the feel of his calloused fingertips.
“Seth,” I moan. “I want you so badly.”
“Then you can have me,” Seth says, his voice low.
I groan and step forward, pressing the full length of my body to his. He’s naked while I am only wearing my underwear, I realize hazily, and the heat around us swells faster. Seth’s hands reach up and he tangles his fingers in my silken hair, winding it around his hand.
“Such beautiful curls,” he purrs, lifting a handful of hair to sniff it. “You smell so good.”
He does too. The smell of his cologne, deep and musky, is driving me crazy. I choke off a few gasps as his hips thrust against mine, his erection pressing against me.
“Do you want me?” Seth asks. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I moan, my eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck me hard, Seth.”
He chuckles, and I can feel the sound go through his chest, the vibrations traveling through my breasts, when they are pressed tightly against him.
I wonder what he sees as he looks at me. I remember looking at myself in the mirror.
Does he see the curve of my hips? His hand runs over the smooth skin, his nails scraping lightly over it, causing goosebumps to rise everywhere. His hands are large and strong, and they cup my hips easily. Then his fingers find the edge of my bra, and I groan as he runs a nail beneath the hem, lightly, teasingly touching the underside of my breast.
I can almost feel his strong arms around me, wrapping me in warm, comforting heat. I drop my hands to his shoulder as he slowly explores my body. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra.
“Touch me more,” I beg.
“I’m going to set you on fire with my touch alone,” Seth breathes in my ear, and I shudder.
My bra comes loose and the straps slip down my shoulders. I
shrug it off and it falls to the ground with a soft whump. My nipples, free of their clothed confines, harden in the chilly air, and Seth cups my left breast in one hand, kneading it softly. Then he pinches the nipple, and I shudder again at the touch.
“Seth,” I groan, leaning back, his hand on the small of my back so I don’t fall.
Seth is leaning over me, his eyes dark with desire, his body so hot that it’s like pressing hard against a furnace. His hands slip down toward my vagina, tugging gently at the hair that’s there, teasing at the skin just above, making my toes curl as I arch my back.
“More, more,” I pant, wriggling impatiently against him, his cock pressing against my thigh.
Then, suddenly, he pulls back.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice low, his eyes dark and intent on mine. “First, I want to watch you touch yourself.”
I almost come apart right then and there. Seth suddenly pushes me backward, and I hit the bed that’s suddenly there.
“Touch yourself,” Seth breaths. “Fuck yourself on your own fingers and know that I’m watching every moment of it.”
I throw my head back and moan.
Chapter Two
Zoe
Feeling Seth’s eyes on me, I scoot back up onto the bed, my skin trembling on t the silken sheets beneath me. Then I rub one hand beneath my legs, feeling the moisture that’s beginning to pool there, and I let my calves fall apart, throwing my head back against the duvet.
