His Big Spark: Deepwood Mountain

By Lexi Hayes

He's a smoking hot electrician with impeccable taste in luxury cars. 

And I'm his new obsession. 

 

With his rugged charm and mischievous smile, Gavin Layne can light up the darkest corners of this mountain town. 

 

And when his Bentley breaks down, he's not expecting to be rescued by the likes of me — a cynical woman with thick thighs, the mouth of a sailor, and enough ink to scare off most self-respecting men. 

 

I'm here in Deepwood seeking refuge, and forgiveness from my grandmother. I've got no time for another hustler to yank my chain, especially one who has a daughter my age and a life that reads like a roadmap of fleeting encounters.

 

But Gavin's unlike any man I've met, and his searing touch ignites something inside me I thought had been snuffed out. He says he's captivated by my strength, my curves, and the mysteries that lurk beneath my tough exterior. 

 

Yeah, right.

 

The last time I trusted a sweet-talking man, he turned out to be the devil himself.

 

Still, those midnight blue eyes are wearing down my defenses. 

 

Then my past rears its ugly head.

 

Will he stay to fight alongside me, or speed off to his next worldly pursuit?

 

Welcome to Deepwood Mountain, Montana, a small town where six best friends with big dreams went from blue-collar bad boys to big shot millionaires. But you know what they say about success… it's lonely at the top. All these men need is a woman to claim, protect, and treat like a queen. Are you ready for the mountain men of Deepwood?

 

His Big Spark is a short, steamy, instalove romance with a curvy, tattooed, and jaded heroine who can't help but fall for the possessive golden retriever hero intent on giving her the life she deserves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: No Regerts Press, LLC
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9781957933061

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

GAVIN

U ntil next time, Mr. Layne.

The young pilot presses his back against the cabin to allow me through the exit of the small plane, flashing a pearly white smile.

He’s at least fifteen years younger than me, while the flight attendant looks like she’s right out of high school.

And as I slide into my car in the private lot adjacent to the tarmac, I wonder if I’m getting too old for this.

These international consulting jobs seem to take more and more out of me each time. Sure, I enjoy myself while I’m there; make some money, see the sights, sample the local food (and sometimes the women). But these days I miss my daughter, Willa, my friends, and my newly remodeled home in Deepwood Mountain…where my absolutely magical massaging recliner sits in my den.

Fuck, I am old.

I loosen my tie and undo the top buttons of my shirt, sinking into the buttery soft seat that fits me like a glove. I’m so beat I could take a nap. But this Bentley convertible is made for driving, not sleeping.

Typically, I sleep on the plane once I take a few moments to line up my next job, dreaming about my next adventure. It’s habit. But this time, something was off. Probably my aging body telling me to slow down.

Wonderful.

I crank up the music for the ride home and let the sunshine warm my skin and the mountain air fill my lungs. I’m taking the scenic route today.

Half way through the three-hour drive, the car drops suddenly and there’s a horrible scraping noise as I pull off to the side of the highway.

What kind of pothole from hell was that? Jesus.

When I get out, I notice the lean at the front of the car immediately. I shrug off my suit jacket and roll up my sleeves before squatting down to take a look. But I’m an electrician, not a mechanic. My best friend and now son-in-law, Dash, who builds motorcycles for a living, has tried to teach me a thing or two, but even I know the bent metal I see underneath is not ideal.

I huff and kick the tire for good measure.

Call Sam’s Towing, I say into my phone.

A rough, familiar voice answers after two rings.

Sam! I cheer. Gavin Layne here.

Gavin, my man. Long time no see. The sounds of a drill and clanking metal blast in the background. What can I do ya for?

I’m stuck out here on highway one just past Porter’s Corner. I think I hit a pothole pretty hard. And it doesn’t look good.

He makes a whistling sound through his teeth. You in that new Bentley I heard about?

Yeah. I lean back against the door, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The hiss of compressed air