Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Book #1
TRUCKER DADDY
by Pippa Little
Sienna
I was supposed to be the perfect heir to their legacy, but I never fit in that world. Their world.
So, when I found myself in an arranged marriage to a monster, I ran.
But after being rescued by a gruff, irresistible trucker my past catches up with me, fast. And dangerously.
Garrett
Sienna is everything I never knew I wanted or needed. I don’t care that she was engaged to someone else. She’s mine now. Mine to love. Mine to protect - no matter how hard we’re going to have to fight to stay together.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Sienna
It’s early evening, August 23, and I feel I’m drowning.
Outside the bathroom I’ve hidden myself in, the sounds of muffled laughter and clinking dishes filter through. I wet my hands and place them on my forehead, hoping the cold water will bring me some clarity. It doesn’t.
Breathe, I tell myself. In. Out. In. Out.
My lungs feel tight. My reflection is unfamiliar, although this is far from the first time my mother has dressed me up like her own personal doll. My makeup is tasteful, my auburn hair in a simple chignon, and my shoulders bare, my strapless champagne gown elegant and shimmering. I’m dressed this way because this is my engagement party. An engagement to a man that I barely know, and what little I do know of him, I loathe.
I press my palms against my chest, willing my heart to slow its relentless hammering. Am I having a panic attack?
My engagement ring, a monstrous, sparkling thing that Charles slid onto my finger just two weeks ago, catches the light. I fight the urge to take it off and throw it in the toilet, but just barely.
Charles. Even thinking his name sends a shiver down my spine. The way he looks at me, his eyes sharp and assessing, like he’s mentally cataloging every flaw he’ll try to fix once I’m his wife. Everything about him screams danger. My parents don’t see it. They see his money, his connections, his polished charm. To them, he’s perfect. To me, he’s a nightmare.
I’d rather walk barefoot into the bayou and never look back than marry Charles.
Well, maybe not barefoot. I might hate the idea of leeches and gators even more than Charles Westfield. But escape is all I can think about. How would I manage it? There are over a hundred people in the house, and the driveway is clogged with chauffeured cars.
My phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up with a text from Charles.
Where are you? Guests are asking for you. Come back out now.
My stomach churns. The audacity of him telling me what to do already!
No. I won’t let this be my life.
I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. I see it then—a road stretching out before me, open and endless, far away from here. It would be a far cry from the gentle, privileged life I’ve lived, but that might not be as bad as it seems.
The plan forms in fragments. I’ll slip out through the kitchen—our staff’s quarters are quieter, tucked away from the chaos of the party. My car is parked at the far end of the driveway. If I can reach it without anyone noticing…but where will I go?
Breaking off this engagement will mean breaking off any and all connections to my current life, but it has to be done.
I straighten up, staring at my reflection one last time. “You can do this,” I whisper to myself. The woman in the mirror doesn’t look convinced.
I grab my clutch, steady my breath, and prepare to make my great escape.
I grab my phone and compose a text to Charles.
Meet me on the east side of the house near the garden. Need a moment away from the crowd. Just us.
I hit send and barely suppress a shiver. The idea of being alone with him makes my skin crawl, but I’m sure he’ll be so excited by the prospect that he won’t even question my demands.
Sliding the phone into my clutch, I push open the bathroom door and step into the hallway. My heels click against the polished wood floors, each step seeming the loudest sound in the world. I yearn for my gym shoes upstairs and their soft, silent soles.
The kitchen. Just get to the kitchen.
Halfway there, I freeze.
“Sienna?” My mother’s voice, honey-smooth but laced with steel, stops me cold.
I turn slowly, plastering a smile on my face. “Yes, Mother?”
She’s standing just a few feet away, her perfectly styled blonde hair catching the light from the chandelier. Her emerald-green gown matches her eyes—the ones I inherited from her—and she steps closer. “Where have you been?”
“I just needed a moment to myself,” I say, keeping my voice light, even though my heart is pounding.