Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
“I am the little girl who first met you in these woods. I am Livvy who was so very blessed to have Grammie O who taught me so much. An incredible woman named Olivia who handed down not only her name, but her heart as she taught me how to love. I am the woman who came home to find you.”
“And who are you?” he asked as he climbed the strong, sturdy steps of the porch.
“I am Lincoln’s.”
“And who am I?” he asked as we entered the house filled with sunlight and promise and all the love it could hold.
“You are mine. The man I love. Lincoln Waters, you are the keeper of my heart and soul. You are my very own Cowboy Daddy.”
The End
About Maggie Ryan
Maggie Ryan is a USA TODAY multi-published and Amazon Top 100 bestselling author. She loves flirting with the forbidden to bring you stories about strong, stern alpha males and sassy, capable women. Maggie believes life without a bit of fire and a dash of spice isn’t worth living. She hopes you will curl up in your favorite chair and take the journey with her. Happy Reading!
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Wrangling Little Casey
By Laylah Roberts
Running from the past, Casey finds herself stranded in a small town with no money. So when she’s offered a job as a nanny, she doesn’t have much choice but to take it.
Even if her new employer is bossy, overprotective, and a sexy Daddy Dom.
So basically everything she’d ever dreamed of . . .
@2026 by GTB Publishing LLC and Laylah Roberts
All rights reserved
No parts of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission by the publisher.
Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Dirty Daddies Publishing, an imprint of GTB Publishing.
Chapter One
“You’re in my swing.”
Casey stared at the small boy glaring at her. Then she glanced around the empty public playground. Which had a total of four swings.
And he wanted hers?
She sucked on her lollipop as she eyed him. His face was turning red and his cheeks were puffed out. He squinted at her with his hands clenched into fists at his side.
Dude was about to blow.
Casey drew out her lollipop. Yeah, she knew she should probably let him have the swing.
He was a kid. And she was . . . what?
An embarrassment to the family?
A lost cause?
Childish?
Damn. She hated how those words still hurt.
“Your swing?” she asked, wondering where his parents were. He couldn’t be much more than five or six.
He nodded slowly. “Yep.”
“Didn’t know that anyone could own a public swing,” she drawled. “Did you write your name on it?”
“My mama’s name is on the whole playground,” he said, pointing to a sign behind him.
Casey hadn’t been paying much attention to her surroundings as she’d wandered into the playground. So she didn’t know what the sign actually said.
She’d just wanted to get out of her car and stretch her legs after driving for the last twelve hours. Although now exhaustion seemed to be dragging her down.
After yawning, she blinked rapidly. Wasn’t fresh air supposed to wake you up? She pushed the swing to distract herself. “Why is your mama’s name on the sign?”
“Because she died,” the little boy said. “And Papa made this playground in her . . . to be . . . um, I forget the word. But for her. Because she loved playgrounds.”
“I love playgrounds too,” Casey told him. “They’re so fun. Some of my best memories are at playgrounds.”
“That swing is mine and I need it.” He put his hands on his small hips and gave her a mutinous look.
Casey swung back and forth. She wondered when his mama had died. Poor kid.
“Why do you need it?” she asked.
Where was his Papa? Why wasn’t he keeping an eye on this boy?
“It’s my thinking swing. Papa is gonna hire another nanny and I don’t need one. I’m old enough to look after myself.”
“How old are you? Four?” she asked.
“I’m seven!”
“Huh. You seem short.”
“I’m not short!”
The kid was definitely about to blow. She should probably ease off and give him the swing. But Casey always liked to take the hard route. At least that’s what her granny used to say.
“Do you know how to do rock, paper, scissors?” she asked.