Come to Daddy (Love Don't Cost a Thing, #1)

by Brianna Hale

I just simply don’t care about making people like me. I don’t need people to like me. Being liked is for thirteen-year-old girls and talk-show hosts.

“I don’t have low self-esteem,” I whisper fiercely. I just have a judgmental mix-tape of my dead mother on a continuous loop in my brain.

Is a madman was out for my blood across international borders because my dad swindled him and then my sugar daddy sold him out an acceptable deferment excuse?