Dangerous Daddy series – Zoe Blake


Dominant. Demanding. Dangerous. You don’t want to cross these Daddies.

“The story’s backdrop as well as initial scenes are quite chilling, leaving the reader feeling a bit unsettled or apprehensive. The tone of uneasiness continues from differing aspects throughout the story, until the very end.”


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Book One – Fight Me, Daddy

No one screwed with him…ever. Logan had a fierce reputation. He was cruel, calculating and very dangerous. Above all, he got the job done – by any means necessary.

When he is hired to retrieve information from a young woman who has fled to an isolated cabin, he decides to amuse himself with the powerless female. He’ll make her submit to his every depraved desire.

Subjecting her to pain and punishment, he won’t relent, not even when she submits and calls him Daddy. She can beg and plead her innocence all she wants, but he won’t stop. And if his little plaything decides to fight him? Even better.

“A delectably dirty and deliciously twisted dark erotic romance that left me ALL AQUIVER!”

Kim R.


About the Author

“We are all attracted to the forbidden, addicted to the rush we get from reading something naughty. We love to lose ourselves in the fantasy. The powerful lord who sweeps the lady away to his remote estate to ravish her. The cowboy who takes the sassy city girl over his knee to teach her a lesson. The Scottish laird who prefers to make love in the wild. I write those romantic fantasies.”

USA Today Bestselling Author in Dark Romance and Horror and Amazon Top 100 Author, Zoe Blake, has over thirty published books to her credit.

Although Zoe admits to being a big fan of the Victorian classics, citing the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, Edith Wharton and Henry James among her favourite authors, she enjoys the freedom to explore more extreme characters and storylines offered within the dark romance genre.

Zoe splits her time between her home in Chicago and her ‘writing cave’ in Grand Rapids, MI.

“There is something delicious in our desire for the corrupt, our ravenous appetite for the brutal, the profane, the unspeakable. The taboo. I write the type of books that give you a frisson of unease; that will have you questioning your own resolve as I take you on a dark ride of twists, kinks and perversions of both the flesh and mind. Enjoy the blush and tremble as you read each decadent word.”

Web site – www.zblakebooks.com
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Twitter – www.twitter.com/zblakebooks
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Chapter One

How deep does a grave have to be?

Wasn’t there something about animals?

Chloe gripped the small heart chain which hung about her neck, taking solace as the metal warmed beneath her hand.  The blue-white beam of her flashlight bounced off dark tree trunks and the thick bed of wet leaves and twigs which covered the ground.

Would the rain make digging easier or harder she wondered?

The sound of crunching gravel alerted her to a car traveling up the long driveway even before she saw the headlights.  Turning off her flashlight, she ran back towards the cabin, tripping over a half-buried log in her haste.  Throwing open the rough wooden gate that separated the forest from the clearing, she raced across the yard, ignoring the ice cold water that seeped into her sneakers as her feet sand into the rain-soaked grass.  Cringing at the loud squeak the back screen door made as she carefully opened it, Chloe crouched low as she crossed the study into the kitchen.  Keeping her head down, she reached up and turned off the small lamp she always kept lit on her kitchen table.  Without the soft warm glow, the cabin felt cold and still.

Chloe held her breath, straining to hear the sound of any movement outside. A car door.  The sound of an engine turning off.  If there was a god, the sound of gravel as the car turned around and left.


The anxiety of not knowing was too much.  Chloe crawled across the linoleum, around the kitchen island.  She paused and listened.

Still nothing.

Trying to calm her pounding heart, she crept closer to the front door.  Her knees ached from crawling on the hard floor.  Her damp jeans chafed and clung to her hips with every movement.  She could feel mud squishing between her toes inside her sneakers.  All she wanted was to take a hot shower and forget this night ever happened.  But that wasn’t possible… she could never wash away the horror of this night.

Grimacing as small pebbles, tracked inside from the driveway, cut into the palms of her hands, Chloe slowly crept into the mud room.  The front door was straight ahead.  It had an open window pane, so she kept low and to the shadows.  Just beyond was the small porch and the gravel drive.  Leaving against the wall to the right of the door, Chloe tilted her head and listened.

More silence.

Her heartbeat finally slowed.

It must have been a neighbour driving by.

“Chloe.  Open the door.”

Throwing her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, Chloe scurried farther back along the wall, staring at the closed door with wild eyes.

There was another long, excruciating pause.


“I know you are in there.  I need you to open the door.”

The dark command of his voice almost had her obeying.  How did he know her name?  Who was he?  The police?  She would have welcomed the police.  An hour ago.  But not now.  Now it was too late.  Maybe he was a friend of his.  Just another reason why she couldn’t open the door.  The cabin was dark.  The doors locked.  Her car was parked in the garage with the door closed.  There was no real way for him to know she was inside.  Maybe if she stayed quiet he would give up and leave?

“Baby, I’m losing my patience.  Trust me.  You don’t want that.”

The deep tone of the stranger’s voice was getting harsher.  Did she dare continue to defy him?

She moved her hand over the low shelf that ran along the wall at her back encountering bug candles, rubber boots, and fishing tackle.  Nothing that could be used as a weapon.  There were her late uncle’s hunting rifles in the gun cabinet in the living room, but she would have to crawl back through the kitchen.  The cabin was dark, but there was no way he would not see the outline of her movements through the front door window now that he was standing just on the other side.  The door wasn’t even secured with a deadbolt, just a simple key lock.  She lived in a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere in upstate Michigan where all the neighbors knew one another.  There wasn’t a need for extraneous locks and deadbolts.

“I’m giving you one last chance to open this door, babygirl,” the stranger growled.

Chloe knew the old door with its old lock would not hold.  She needed to make a decision.

The door handle rattled violently.

She was out of time.

Rising up, Chloe bolted back through the kitchen.

The sickening sound of splintering wood and shattering glass reverberated throughout the cabin.

Chloe’s wet soles skidded along the floor as she sharply turned right down the narrow hallway to the living room.  The gun cabinet was just over the threshold.  Her trembling hand closed over the brass handle.  The guns weren’t loaded, but hopefully the stranger wouldn’t get close enough to notice.  Wrenching the handle upwards, Chloe threw open the cabinet door and blindly reached in, feeling for the cold barrel of the rifle she knew was there.

A hand closed over her shoulder, spinning her about and slamming her against the wall.  She had no chance to even scream.  That same hand wrapped around her throat, the long fingers easily encircling the slender column till her jaw was pushed upwards, her head crushed painfully against the wall.

The sharp angles of the stranger’s face came into focus.  His angry, lowered brown.  Dark, unreadable eyes.

His full lips lifted in a sneer.  “I warned you, baby.”

Chloe tried to rise up on her toes to ease the pressure on her throat.  Desperately, she clawed at the man’s t-shirt.  A garbled scream escaped her lips.

“Shhh… all that will do is piss me off more than I already am, and we don’t want that do we?”  He’d leaned in close to whisper the ominous threat, his lips skimming along her jaw.  The scrape of his stubble rubbed against the soft skin of her cheek.

She tried to shake her head no, but his grip on her throat would not allow it.

He spread his legs wide before leaning his hips forward, pressing into her body.  He was a large beast of a man.  Both his size and voice were frightening… intimidating.

He ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek.  “Now, you are going to be a good girl and obey me.”

Chloe tried to convey her willingness with her eyes.

He seemed to understand because he released his grip on her throat, but he shifted his hips as if to remind her he still held a portion of her body prisoner.  As if she needed reminding.

With a warning look in her direction, he flicked on the switch by her shoulder.

Chloe blinked as the room flooded with light.  The moment her eyes adjusted, she caught her first real look at the stranger who had forced his way into her cabin.  If he had not been holding her against the wall, her knees would have given out in sheer fright.  Jesus Christ!  The man looked like the type of prison thug you only saw in the movies…  or mug shots on the news.  Impossibly tall, his chest and arms were thick with muscle.  He had a neck tattoo.  A goddamn neck tattoo.  Piercing blue eyes watched her with amusement.

“You like what you see, babygirl?”

Oh god, thought Chloe.  She had survived one horror this night only to be raped and murdered by this man.

Maybe it was what she deserved.

He ran a finger over her collarbone and then traced the V-neck edge of her pink t-shirt.

Chloe bit her lip to keep from crying out.  Her fists were clenched so hard, her palms hurt from where her fingernails bit into them.

Still he taunted her.  His finger slowly ran up and down the edge of her neckline, till it dipped into the low vee.  Hooking his finger into the flimsy, damp fabric, he pulled it towards him.

“The story is edgy, dark, dirty—oh and yes, oh so delicious.”



Other books in the series

Own Me, Daddy

Michael was a Marine, hard-wired to conquer and claim. When Phoebe walked into his office lying through her pretty red lips, his first impulse was to throw her over his desk and take possession. The more she tried to deceive him, the more determined he became to bend her to his will and make her call him Daddy.

She was about to find out how dangerous it was to deny him. He owned her, whether she liked it or not.

“Intrigue, mystery, murder, hot sex, a man in uniform, and a happily ever after.”

Linda James

Bite Me, Daddy

Paine was not just his name, it was his profession. So when an upstart thief tries to kill him, he can think of nothing more pleasurable than teaching her a very painful lesson. She was about to learn how Paine earned his dangerous reputation. He would have her on her knees, begging him not to hurt her, submitting to his demand to call him Daddy. And if his little kitten showed her claws and sharp teeth? Daddy will bite back.

“The darkness and mystery as they unravel in this tale will take you off-guard and leave you breathless.”

S Epiphany