Falling Hard (Men of Copper Mountain #1) Read Online Aria Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors: Series: Men of Copper Mountain Series by Aria Cole
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Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
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I can’t help but laugh softly to myself. "Another place, another adventure."

The words roll off my tongue like a mantra, something I’ve said far too many times. It’s always the same. A new location, a new project, a new start. It’s exhilarating, the unknown, but there's something else lingering beneath the excitement. Something heavy.

I try to ignore it, shifting in my seat as I round the last bend in the road. The dirt path widens, leading me toward the edge of the forest, and there it is—my little cabin. Weathered and simple, with a porch that sags just enough to make me smile. It's perfect. It’s quiet, tucked away at the edge of the woods, surrounded by tall pines that stretch their long shadows across the ground.

I pull up and kill the engine. Silence rushes in, wrapping around me. I sit there for a second, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the cabin, the whisper of doubt creeping in.

"Maybe this time," I murmur, my voice barely audible. But I don’t believe it. I never do.

Still, I swing the door open and step out, my boots hitting the dirt with a solid thud. The ground feels good beneath my feet. Real. Grounded. I stretch, raising my arms high above my head, feeling my muscles pull, and for a brief moment, the weight I’ve been carrying disappears.

This is home. At least for now.

The mountain looms above me, strong and wild, calling to that restless part of me that’s always searching for the next thing, the next thrill. My eyes sweep over the dense forest, the rich green of the trees blending into a blur of endless possibilities. There’s so much to explore, so much to discover.

I grin, the excitement bubbling up again, pushing away the doubt. "The mountain is mine," I say, as if claiming it for myself.

I move to the back of the Jeep and pop open the hatch, pulling out my equipment. Notebooks, my camera, a field guide to the plants of this region—it all tumbles into my arms. I balance the load as best I can and make my way up to the porch, my boots scuffing against the wooden steps. They creak under my weight, but the sound is comforting, solid.

I push open the door, stepping inside the cabin. It’s small but cozy, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and a stone fireplace tucked into the corner. A single bed with a worn quilt sits against the far wall, and there’s a tiny kitchen off to the side. It’s not much, but it’ll do. It always does.

I set my things down on the table and take a deep breath, surveying the space. It smells like wood and dust, the kind of smell that reminds me of childhood, of old houses and faraway places. I glance around, and for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to settle down, to stay in one place, to make it more than just a pit stop. But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes, replaced by the familiar hum of excitement.

The forest is waiting.

I grab my camera and botany kit, slinging them over my shoulder. The door swings shut behind me with a satisfying thud as I step back into the sunlight. The trees sway gently in the breeze, whispering their secrets. My boots crunch over the dirt as I make my way toward the edge of the woods, my heart racing with the thrill of what lies ahead.

I crouch down near a patch of moss, brushing my fingers over the soft green surface. It feels alive, like it’s breathing beneath my fingertips.

"Look at you," I whisper, smiling to myself. I snap a photo, capturing the moment, and then scribble some quick notes in my journal. The plants here are different—older, more vibrant. There’s something rare about them, something that calls to me.

I straighten, glancing up at the towering pines that surround me. The forest stretches out in every direction, wild and untamed, just the way I like it. This is where I belong, out here in the wilderness, where everything feels vast and endless. No rules, no expectations, just me and the mountain.

But even as I think it, that familiar doubt creeps in again. How long before the thrill wears off? How long before I move on, just like I always do?

I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. One thing at a time. For now, I’ve got the mountain. I’ve got the forest. And that’s enough.

I take a deep breath, letting the scent of pine and earth fill me, grounding me. The trees sway, their branches whispering in the wind, and I smile. Copper Mountain might be just another stop on my journey, but there’s something about this place that feels different.

Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough to keep me here.


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