Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Trace
The last thing I expected when I peered into the rust bucket filled with scrap metal was a little slip of a thing staring back at me. But when she mouthed at me to keep quiet, I did the only thing I could think of. I bought the whole vehicle, even the little runaway.
Now I just have to figure out what to do with her. I can’t send her back to the world she came from. But she can’t stay here in my cabin, making it feel like a home and filling my mind with filthy thoughts. Besides, I’m too rough and too old for a sweet thing like her.
Molly
I didn’t think through my escape from the tower. I only knew I had to get away from the arranged marriage. I never expected that hitching a ride would end with me being sold to a rough mountain man.
Trace isn’t anything like he looks. I thought he’d be mean and cruel but he’s kind and thoughtful. The least I can do to thank him is make his little rundown cabin feel more like a home. Then I’ll be on my way. Except that when I try to go, he won’t let me leave. Could it be this rough mountain man has feelings for me too?
If you love a determined alpha male with a protective streak and a big heart, it’s time to meet Trace in Sold to the Mountain Man.
Courage County mountain men love curves! These flannel-wearing, wood-cutting lumberjack men are gruff and grumpy. But underneath it all, they have hearts of gold just waiting to be uncovered by the curvy women they claim. Cuddle up with these sexy new book boyfriends from Mia Brody today!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
TRACE
I survey the old rust bucket filled with junk. There’s a lot of scrap metal inside of it—small appliances like toasters and TVs, metal pet cages, auto parts, and old electronics litter the vehicle that was towed up my mountain today. Even the car itself could be broken down for scrap.
Normally, this sort of haul is a dream come true for me since I’m a metal welder, creating complex art pieces for businesses and collectors alike. But the three men who brought it up here aren’t my regular sellers. No, there’s something shifty about these guys that has my teeth on edge.
“How much did you say you wanted for all the junk in this heap?” I ask even though I already have a rough idea of the figure they’ll name.
The man in the gray beanie, the one that seems to be in charge of the whole operation, names a figure that’s too low. Obviously, he’s not used to selling scrap and judging by the way he and his friends keep twitching, the profits from this little venture are going straight up their noses.
I step around to the back of the trunk, keeping my face carefully blank. My hip is acting up today, but I refuse to let it show. If I don’t show the pain, it doesn’t exist. A mantra that a scared boy learned too early in life.
“You want it or not?” He asks, rubbing at his face.
Fuck, the three of them are practically vibrating. For a split second, I consider letting this opportunity pass me by. I don’t need trouble, especially the trouble that comes from addicts who are just looking for their next high. But something compels me to reach for the car again. I don’t want to let it go even though I don’t understand why.
I pop the unlocked trunk and peer into it. There’s even more scrap metal in the back, various rusted tools, a tire that’s clearly deflated, and blonde hair. My gaze follows the silky gold and though I have to squint, I finally see it. A hypnotic blue gaze staring back at me.
It’s hard to tell under all the dirt, but there’s a woman back here. Her heart-shaped face and big, blue eyes give her an innocent look. She has the plumpest, most kissable lips I’ve ever seen.
“Please,” she mouths the single word and my heart breaks right here. Just what the hell has she been through? What led her to hide in the back of this car? Was she hoping that wherever she was headed was better than where she’d been?
I slam the trunk before Gray Beanie can get too close. I turn to the three men. “New term. I want the whole car and everything in it.”
The guys look at each other in confusion before the one in an orange tracksuit says, “It’ll be more money.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the tightness in my stomach. Is she OK? Does she have enough oxygen? How long has she been in there?
Gray Beanie scratches his arm. If he keeps going that hard, he’ll hit bone soon. “Yeah, double the price.”
I snort. I’d gladly pay triple what they’re asking, and I have it to spare. My creations caught the eye of eccentric millionaires early on and I’ve been well compensated for my work. But I’m a simple man. I don’t need millions upon millions so most of my earnings are quietly funneled toward a charity for abused kids.
Still, I don’t have extra cash on me, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone while I retrieve more money. Instead, I take a gamble that they’re pretty damn desperate for that next high. I toss the pouch with the money I do have. “Take it or leave it.”
Gray Beanie starts counting it while his friends anxiously nudge him, encouraging him to just accept it. Yeah, they’re already thinking about the good times they’re about to have. He stops counting the cash to glance at me. “I can get more cars, you know.”
“This was a one-time deal,” I growl at him. There’s no way in hell I want his kind of trouble up here again. “Now get the fuck off my mountain.”
I don’t have to tell them twice. Orange suit quickly unhitches the car, and the three of them are shoving their way into the tiny pickup truck they used to tow the junker up here in the first place.
I watch the truck until it’s just a speck on the horizon. “Good riddance, motherfuckers.”
That’s when it hits me what I just did. I did more than buy a rust bucket that was probably stolen to begin with. I just bought myself a woman.
Hurrying to the trunk, I pop the hood again. I peer into the dark and part of me expects her to be gone. Maybe I’ve been on this damn mountain for a very long time. Maybe I’m pretty damn lonely, especially as I’ve spent the past few months watching my friends get married.