Promised to the Mountain Man (Thickwood, CO Book 4)

By Frankie Love

I saved a man's life.
In return he promised me a bride.
I didn't think he was serious.
But when his daughter shows up at my cabin, I realize it was no joke.
She's been sent here as my wife.
Hattie's a curvy thing with copper-red hair but there's no fire in her eyes.
This girl is broken. Scared. And goddamn terrified of a hard-ass mountain man like me.
She thinks this was my idea, my plan … and no amount of explaining can change her mind.
But when tragedy strikes, she's forced to put her feelings aside.
We're in this together now, whether she likes it or not.


Dear Reader,
Ready for a forced-fiancée, a forest fire, and a few frisky encounters!?
Hattie and Holt are fire and ice … that means someone has to melt!
Holt is hot, horny and hard.
Get ready to fan this flame!
Xo, frankie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Love
• Release date: Oct 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201912901

Frankie Love

Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie. Get ready to fall in love … you deserve it! **Frankie also writes under the name Charlie Hart!

Book preview

One

Holt

Ipause for a while on the trail, looking out at the amazing view, and wait for Jimbo to catch up. He’s going on sixteen now and his joints are starting to act up, but he’d give me hell if I left him at home. My hikes these days are slower, but I like his quiet company, so it’s all right with me.

He’s sniffing around a little sapling and finally lifts his leg, then trots up to me. Ready? I ask, and he swings his tail left and right at the sound of my voice. It makes me chuckle. Really, this old dog is the best company I’ve had in a good long while. The only company I’ve had. Consistently, anyway.

I live a good life here in Thickwood, Colorado, don’t get me wrong. The town is great — filled with good people — though I personally prefer to stick to myself. I live in a beautiful area in a spacious but cozy cabin — somewhere in between being totally isolated and living with some conveniences. I have a good, reliable truck, and a good, loyal dog. Honestly, I have everything I’ve ever really wanted.

But lately I haven’t been feeling all that fulfilled by it anymore, and I think I know why.

I’ve settled down, into a routine, and I’m bored as fuck. There’s no one to share any of this stuff with. When Jimbo does something goofy, there’s no one to laugh with. When I cook something that turns out amazing, there’s no one to share it with.

I’ve been resisting relationships for a long time — not for any exciting or mysterious reason. I just haven’t met anyone I’ve clicked with in forever — but I think it’s time to bite the bullet and start dating again.

The thought makes me simultaneously happy and hesitant. Because although I’m getting sick of being stuck in a rut, I am still set in my ways. Introducing someone new would stir everything up. It could ruin everything I’ve built for myself.

It doesn’t help things much that living out here doesn’t usually introduce me organically to people my own age.

A hike like this always clears my head up straight away and lets me weigh all the pros and cons of whatever’s on my mind. This walk has me convinced, if grudgingly, to head into town more often and try to strike up more conversations. Hell is other people, sure, but there might be a little heaven in finding my soulmate.

If you believe in that kind of stuff.

I’m torn from my thoughts, suddenly, by the weirdest sight I’ve ever seen on these trails. Another hiker bursts from the trees, swatting at the air around his head, and blows past me at a speed I’ve never seen. It takes me a moment to realize what it is that’s got him pounding up dust clouds in his wake, but when I do, I curse and back up.

The air around him is thick and buzzing with fat black bees. He emits a strangled scream, and I really don’t blame him. I wrack my brains trying to come up with a way to help him, but in only a second, he’s gone, disappeared over the crest of the trail. The only reason I have to believe he was here at all is the screeching I can still hear beyond the hill.

Then the scream stops, abruptly, and I’m already running to see what the hell is going on. The bees are dispersing as if they’ve lost interest and I can see why.

The hiker is rolling rapidly down the hill.

Damn, I say aloud, watching the poor guy tumble helplessly downwards. I turn to my old dog and hold up my hand. Stay here. Then I hop off the edge of the trail and make my way after the poor lost soul.

I’m coming! I shout after him as he crumples at the bottom of the hill. Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’m gonna radio for help.

Any good hiker knows to bring a radio with them. He’s stirring around at the bottom, and I slip and slide down, holding onto rocks and stepping as carefully as I can as I radio for a helicopter. At least he isn’t dead.

Can you speak? I ask when I reach his side, wiping at my forehead with my wrist. The guy is writhing in pain, and he grits his teeth and opens one eye to stare at me. Blearily. Then he nods. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Fuck. It’s my leg, he grunts. I think I’m all right, but my leg… is it broken?

I very carefully move away one of the rocks that helped slow his fall and see his leg is bloodied. So are his pants. He screws up his face, setting his jaw