Yes, Daddy
He’s older, he’s sure of himself, and he has rules: eat, sleep, and let him take care of you. Yes, Daddy is a series of standalone age-gap romances with protective, silver-fox Daddy heroes who fall first, plenty of praise and heat, and a marriage-and-babies happy ending. All Piper Kane books are free in Kindle Unlimited.
Yes, Daddy
Rosie Proctor has spent twenty-two years being good. Good grades, good behavior, one very specific secret she’s kept since she was sixteen. Knox Callahan is her father’s oldest friend—forty-two, built like authority made flesh, silver threading through his dark hair in a way that has never once looked old. He’s been at every important moment of her life. He’s been careful. He’s been decent. He’s held the line with both hands for six years.
Tonight she graduates. Tonight she’s done being good.
She finds him alone in the hallway at her graduation party and says one word. Daddy. His hand hits the wall beside her head. His voice goes rough. Don’t call me that unless you mean it.
She means it.
He takes her home, lays out the rules—three meals, a check-in text, no other men—and makes one thing very clear: in private, it’s always Daddy. The rules aren’t punishment, he tells her. They’re proof he’s paying attention. Knox Callahan has been paying attention for twenty-two years. He’s done pretending otherwise.
The only problem is her last name. And the thirty-year friendship he’s about to blow up to keep her.
He’s already decided she’s worth it.
Daddy Knows Best
Penny Aldrich has exactly one task left: return the lake house key to Garrett White, her ex-boyfriend’s father. She’s completing an errand. She is not supposed to cry in the lobby of a Manhattan law firm, not supposed to sit across that desk from those dark winter-water eyes, and absolutely not supposed to say the word that falls out of her mouth before she can stop it.
Garrett White is forty-eight, silver-templed, built like certainty in an Italian suit. He has dissolved a hundred marriages across that desk. He knows what he’s looking at when someone walks in with two years of trying-too-hard and a key she’s been carrying like a wound.
He makes her say it again.
Then he lays down rules — for her care, her time, her total surrender — and makes one thing unmistakably clear: he isn’t just claiming her. He’s correcting everything his son failed to give her. Two years he watched her perform contentment she didn’t feel. He has no intention of letting her perform anything ever again.
The only problem is the last name she walked in with.
Daddy already decided. She just has to catch up.
Be Good for Daddy
He’s her dissertation advisor. She’s about to learn what earns an A.
June Harlow is three years into her PhD and working with the most demanding advisor in the department. Professor Atticus Vane reads her work aloud. He grades her arguments in real time. He has a locked office and a very specific idea of how brilliance should be rewarded.
She tells herself she’s there for the feedback.
Atticus is forty-four, silver-templed, and has spent two years being careful. He recites the institutional rules in his head every time she argues with him across his desk—which is often, because she’s extraordinary, and watching her think is the most interesting thing that happens in his week.
Then she calls him Daddy during a late-night revision session. His pen stops. Don’t call me that unless you know what you’re asking for. She knows.
The rules are precise: coffee before office hours, arguments belong behind the closed door, and she calls him Professor Vane in the hallway. Everything earned, nothing given freely. The praise is specific and deliberate and it is, June discovers, completely addictive.
He has plans for her future. So does the dissertation committee.
He’s decided she’s more important than the conflict of interest.
Daddy’s Rules
He has a rule for everything. She’s about to become one of them.
Nicolas Granier’s last three assistants quit inside a month. He runs Granier Capital like a man who always gets exactly what he wants—and right now, what he wants is for his new executive assistant to eat lunch at noon, badge out by six, and report to absolutely no one but him.
Mila is twenty-three. She finds the whole arrangement interesting in a way her predecessors clearly didn’t.
He’s forty-four, six-three, silver at the temples, and he watches her across the conference table like he’s already made a decision she hasn’t been informed of yet. The rules aren’t about efficiency. They’re about her—her schedule, her safety, her total attention—wrapped in structure so she won’t run before she understands what they mean.
She understands by Wednesday.
That’s where the trouble starts.
By the time he’s calling her good girl in a tone that has absolutely nothing to do with her quarterly reports, Mila’s figured out something inconvenient: the rules don’t feel like a cage. They feel like the first time anyone’s ever paid close attention.
Daddy’s Rules is a steamy age-gap boss/assistant romance with Daddy kink, a ruthless CEO hero who has already decided, and a heroine who absolutely should have handed in her notice on day one.
Ask Daddy Nicely
She hasn’t asked for anything in two years. He’s about to fix that.
Nora knocked on her neighbor’s door at eleven PM with two bags and nowhere else to go. Theo opened it, read the situation in five seconds, and made her tea. Then he sat across the table and said the word she’d been carrying in secret for months.
You need a Daddy.
He wasn’t wrong.
He sets the rules: she eats every meal, sleeps in his bed, and never apologizes for wanting things. If she needs something, she asks. If she wants something, she says please. If she forgets — he’s very patient about reminding her.
She spent two years making herself small for the wrong man. Theo is the right one — enormous, unhurried, absolutely certain about what she needs — and the things he makes her say out loud are turning her inside out in the best possible way.
She’s learning to ask for what she wants.
She’s learning to ask Daddy nicely.
Daddy Said So
He showed up with one bag, checked every lock in my apartment, and told me I wasn’t going out tonight.
Lachlan Burke is six-five, ex-military, and doesn’t waste words. The rules came fast and easy — what I eat, when I sleep, a text when I get where I’m going. Not unkind. Just certain, like he’d already decided to take care of it and was only telling me how.
I grew up around dangerous men. I know the difference between the kind who scare you and the kind who make you feel safe for the first time in your life. I knew exactly what I was doing when I left my bedroom door open.
He has a word for what he is to me. He said it at the end of the second week, low and steady, and my whole body went warm. I asked him to say it again.
He did.
Daddy Said So is a Daddy Dom romance with a protective military hero, a heroine who finally found the right kind of dangerous, and a pregnancy HEA.
Kinks and tropes: Daddy Dom/little sub • Military hero • Age gap (12 years) • Protective obsession • Praise kink • He fell first • Instalove • Pregnancy HEA
Daddy’s Home
I’ve been leaving his dinner in the oven on low.
Roman Wolfe is widowed, forty-one, and has a four-year-old son who informs me daily that I make the best blanket forts in the world. I’ve been the live-in nanny for twenty-eight days. In that time I’ve learned: Oliver needs exactly one warning before transitions. Roman makes a three-second pause when he finds the coffee I put on at six-thirty. I’ve started looking forward to that pause more than I should.
He watches me from doorways. His face does something, then he closes it off, then he goes to work.
He came home at eleven last Monday, found his plate in the oven, stood in the doorway while I pretended to sleep on the couch. He turned off the kitchen light. Left me his blanket. Twenty-eight days and neither of us has said a word. He will.
Daddy’s Home is a Daddy Dom romance with a grieving widower who watches from doorways and a nanny who’s been leaving the light on. Age gap, praise kink, and a pregnancy HEA.
Punish Me Daddy
I told the most dangerous man in the city I was going to save him a fortune — and that he was going to punish me for every bit of it.
I’m a forensic accountant. I walked into Ferraro Holdings with fourteen years of records and found twenty-three shell companies before lunch. Dante Ferraro watched me work the room and gave me nothing back — just that still, complete attention that feels like a hand at the back of your neck.
By five I’d cleaned up three revenue streams and handed him a summary he read in four minutes. He looked up and said one word. “Good.”
I’ve cleaned the books of men twice as dangerous and been paid twice as much. One good from Dante Ferraro and I wanted to be bad just to find out what he’d do about it.
So I pushed. I mouthed off. I broke his rules on purpose, because the man has a word for what he is to me, and the only thing better than hearing him say it is making him put me over his knee to prove it.
He said it at nine, door locked, voice low. By then I was already counting on the punishment.
Punish Me, Daddy is a mob Daddy Dom romance — a mouthy forensic accountant who provokes on purpose and the boss who is more than happy to discipline her for it. Spanking, rules as power, age gap, and a pregnancy HEA.
Kinks and tropes: Daddy Dom/little sub • Mob boss hero • Brat / provoked punishment • Spanking & discipline • Forensic accountant heroine • Age gap (15 years) • Praise kink • Power exchange • He fell first • Pregnancy HEA
Only For Daddy
He’s been waiting three years. She’s just now catching up.
Kieran Blairn has been watching Lola at Sunday dinners since a Christmas three years ago — and firmly, absolutely out of bounds. He’s good at patience. He’s also very good at not letting his face do anything when she walks into a room.
He built a reading corner in his apartment in one afternoon. He’s not going to say why. He just had a feeling.
Lola has been doing an excellent job of not thinking about her best friend’s older brother. Then she’s twenty-four, standing on his porch, and she’s the one who says the word first.
He goes very still. He asks her to say it again.
She does.
Age-gap contemporary romance. Best friend’s brother. A patient man with a set of rules. Three years of restraint released.
Say It, Baby Girl
I argue with juries for a living. He got me to stop talking with a look.
I’m very good at being in charge.
Denver lawyer. My cases, my calendar, my whole life run on a tightly controlled schedule. I don’t let men decide anything for me.
Then my car dies on a back road outside a town I can’t find on a map.
The rancher who stops is quiet. Steady. Twenty-five years older than me.
He takes one look at how tightly I’m holding everything together and says, you can put some of that down now.
Hank doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t command. He just knows. When I’ve eaten. When I’m running on fumes. When the woman who never asks for help is one bad day from cracking.
He calls me his good girl like it’s simply true.
And the first time I stop white-knuckling it and say the word he’s waiting for, the relief of handing it all over undoes me completely.
I came out here to get my life back on the road.
Instead I found the one place I’m allowed to stop steering.
A steamy age-gap Daddy romance with a quiet, dominant rancher, a control-freak heroine who finally gets to let go, and a marriage-and-baby ending. He falls first—and never makes her beg for what she needs.
Teach Me, Daddy
I’ve spent my whole adult life being the one who decides everything alone.
What I eat. When I sleep. Which boy is wasting my Thursday. Nobody ever once offered to carry an ounce of it, so I got very good at not needing anyone to.
Then I drew something at my kitchen table that I never meant a single person to see—and I carried it into the studio of the most respected tattoo artist in the city.
Ezra Vane looks at it for a long time. Then he tells me it’s good, and it’s wrong. And he redraws it in front of me, better than I made it, until it’s the truest thing I’ve ever put on paper.
I hear myself say it before I’ve decided to.
Teach me.
He tells me exactly what that will cost. His vision. His rules. His hands. And one thing I’m not sure I can survive—I don’t get to look at my own back until he says it’s finished.
So I wear something I’ve never seen. Month after month, face-down under his light, learning to breathe the way he tells me to. Learning to hold still. Learning to ask out loud for what I want instead of hoping somebody notices.
Learning what he is, and what I’m going to call him.
He’s nothing like the boys my age. He knows when I’ve eaten. He texts eggs, not cereal at seven in the morning as though it isn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. He notices the email I’ve been hiding from and makes me send it.
Nobody has ever been careful with me. Not on purpose. Not like it mattered.
And when the phoenix on my spine is finally finished, he doesn’t buy me a diamond.
He tattoos my ring finger himself, and tells me it’s never coming off.
A steamy age-gap Daddy romance with a dominant, patient tattoo-artist hero, an independent heroine who has never once been taken care of, and a marriage-and-baby ending. He falls first—and teaches her everything.
Spoil Me, Daddy
She’s never let anyone take care of her. He just bought her building.
My mother raised me on one rule. They always want something, mija.
So I’ve never asked anybody for anything. When the cooler died and the rent tripled, I handled it alone and called that being strong.
Then a man in a three-thousand-dollar coat started coming into my flower shop every afternoon to buy lilies nobody could possibly need. He did it for three weeks before he told me why.
Alexander Langford is forty-six, owns half the skyline, and doesn’t ask whether I want to be taken care of. He pays off my back rent. He buys the building. He hands me a closet full of clothes and a short list of rules. I wear what he buys me. I never say I can’t afford that again. When it gets to be too much, I come to him instead of running.
I thought I’d hate being spoiled.
Nobody warned me I was going to like it.
A steamy age-gap Daddy romance with a billionaire who provides, a heroine who learns to be greedy, and a marriage-and-babies HEA. He falls first. Standalone.
Come to Daddy
She came to him for a lawyer. The word that came out was Daddy.
My ex framed me for a crime I didn’t commit, and I’m due in court in nine days.
He had my spare key. My car is on the parking garage camera, and my fingerprints are on a door I never touched. Nobody cares that I was working a double in front of a room full of witnesses.
Dante Russo, the best defense attorney in the state, reads my file, closes it, and says, You didn’t do this.
I grab his hand across the desk and call him Daddy by accident. I try to take it back. He makes me say it again.
He takes my case for nothing and moves me into his house. Then he gives me rules. I tell him the truth, all of it. I eat and sleep when he says. When the panic hits at two in the morning, I come to him.
He’s forty-four, seventeen years older than me, and nothing has ever felt so right.
A steamy age-gap Daddy romance with a protective attorney hero, a heroine framed for something she didn’t do, a courtroom takedown, and a marriage-and-babies HEA. He falls first. Standalone.