Poor Little Daddy’s Girl by Normandie Alleman

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About the author:

A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull.

What inspired you to write your book?

Sexy firefighters everywhere and the “celebrity” heiresses who are splashed across the tabloids all the time.

Here is a short sample from the book:

It was then he heard the screaming. He entered the apartment, ran down a hallway toward the noise, and quickly located a girl crying in the corner of a bedroom. Even through the haze of the fire, Hunter noticed the pure luxury of the apartment. The silver gilt bed frame looked as if it belonged at Versailles, the craftsmanship was so detailed and over the top.
“Fire department,” he said identifying himself. “Are you alright?” He took the girl by the arm.
She looked up at him with arresting blue eyes. “I think so.”
“Good, let’s get you out of here. Anyone else here?” he asked guiding her back to the door where Mitch was controlling the inferno with the fire-hose.
She shook her head no. “Just me,” she said, a startling loneliness shining in her eyes. He shook it off. He must be imagining things.
Mitch waved them past, “Anybody else?”
Hunter shook his head, “Negative. She’s the only one.”
“Take her down. I got Johnston and Pulaski on their way up. We got this.”
Hunter gave Mitch a thumbs up, put his arm around the girl’s waist and led her into the stairwell.
He took the stairs two at a time and she tried to keep pace with him. Once they reached the first landing, he turned to make sure she was following. She had no apparent injuries, except for possible smoke inhalation, but she was ambulatory, no need for him to carry her.
Taking her in he realized for the first time how beautiful she was. Her wild hair stuck out every which way. The unruly locks consisted of several different colors and it looked more like a mane than any hair he’d ever seen; she reminded him of a lion. Her blue eyes pierced his soul and mesmerized him at the same time. It was an unsettling combination. “Are you sure you’re not injured?” he asked.
“No, I’m okay,” she gazed up at him pitifully. “But my head hurts. Do you think they’ll ever turn off that freaking alarm?” She rubbed her temples.
“Once the fire is out,” he said.
“Crap! Can’t you make it sooner?” she pleaded.
He held out a hand to her and started down the next flight of stairs. “It’s not my job to see that it’s turned off. Somebody who works in the building will have to do it. Come on.”
She stalled on the top step, put her hands on her hips and stuck out a luscious bottom lip. “Can’t you carry me?”
He couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d slapped him. Carry her? Down sixty-something flights of stairs. Who did this bitch think she was, the Queen of England? Some people he’d rescued lost their mind in times of crisis and this girl was definitely one of them if she thought he was going to do that.
Remembering his position helped him control his urge to tell her where to stick it. He’d been passed up for captain once already due to his impulsive behavior in the field. The last thing he needed was the little rich girl making trouble for him. “You’re fine, you can walk,” he said calmly and began walking down the stairs.
She remained on the top step kicking it with her pretty foot, her toenails perfectly manicured with hot pink nail polish. “But my head hurts,” she whined.
“No,” he said firmly. “Now come on.”
“But if I were burned you’d have to carry me down, right?”
“Yes, but you’re not burned, are you?”
She scowled at him.
“Come on,” he ordered her testily.
But rather than complying with his request she sat down on the top step, crossed her arms and rested her forehead on them.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me! Ma’am, there is a fire up there. It is my job to see you to safety. Now let’s go!” His blood began to churn, and he struggled to keep his temper in check.
She didn’t budge.
Exasperated, he climbed the short flight of stairs to her. When he reached her he picked her up, flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and started back down the stairs.
“What are you doing?” she asked, wriggling in his arms. She wasn’t specifically fighting him, but she wasn’t making it any easier to carry her either.
“My job,” he answered her through clenched teeth.
She tussled with him, but he held her tightly and she was no match for his strength. Frustrated little sounds bubbled up from her throat, but he kept going, determined to get her downstairs to safety.
After descending about ten flights of stairs she yelled, “Put me down!” and started kicking at him.
“No,” he answered, afraid her gyrations would send them both tumbling down the stairs.
“But this is hurting my head. All the blood is rushing to my head, plus that noise, it’s killing me.”
“Hold still or I will have to give you a spanking!”
He felt her stiffen. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious. If you don’t co-operate you’re going to hurt yourself or both of us.”
Bent over his shoulder, she squealed as she beat on his back with tiny fists.
She wasn’t going to behave. This was a woman who liked to play games, and he had little patience for people like that.
She wore a skirt and he knew he should leave her skirt down, but a need deep inside him got the better of him and he pulled it up to reveal two round, tanned globes interrupted by a thin strip of yellow fabric that served as underwear. His breath caught in his chest for a second as he admired her ass.
He knew better. The higher-ups and the paper pushers would try to take his shield if they ever found out about this. But they didn’t know. They wouldn’t last a day in the field and he smiled to himself picturing some of them trying to get this entitled brat down from her ivory tower. It would never happen.
Allowing his frustration to take over he gave her cheeks a smack, and then another. To his surprise his victim didn’t scream or cry out. In fact, he thought he heard her moan, though it was difficult to be sure over the ear-splitting alarm that still rang through the building.
Realizing she could take it, he struck her harder and harder until he felt her tense up and clutch his coat with a whimper. His cock twitched with arousal and he swatted her again with the same velocity. He’d transformed her bottom into juicy reddish-pink globes and realized they would be nice and warm by now.
He paused and removed one of his heavy gloves. The moment his skin touched hers the electricity in the air became palpable. Her smooth, baby-soft skin felt like velvet as he touched it with his fingertips. Then he grazed her bottom with his palm, wishing he were somewhere else doing this under different circumstances.
Remembering himself, he pulled down her skirt and delicately set her on the stairs, her blue eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.
She was speechless.
He had unnerved her, the lovely penthouse-dweller, and he liked it. This chick was probably used to ordering everyone around, always getting her way. Maybe his spanking would wake her up, teach her a thing or two. He stared at her evenly. “Now, you are going to walk the rest of the way down and you are not going to give me any more trouble. Do we understand each other?”
Her lips curled up slightly at the corners and she managed, “Yes, sir.”