Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Brennon
I ruined my brother’s wedding. I punched him in the nose and took his bride for my own. Because he won’t worship those beautiful curves the way I will. He’s not interested in protecting and loving Cadence like I will.
In her eyes, this marriage is just a way to save her father. But I’ll make her fall in love with me. First, I’ll convince this woman that my heart is hers. Then I’ll claim her curvy body and do filthy things to it. Because this mountain man is playing for keeps.
Cadence
I have no illusions about my groom. He’s cruel and manipulative. But without this marriage, my father will be wrongfully imprisoned.
Then minutes before the ceremony, his older brother claims me. He insists I’ll be his wife instead and live with him in his cabin in the woods.
I know what they say about Brennon. They call him a beast. They say he’s a monster who retreated into the woods, never to be seen again. But here he is, giving me a way out when all hope seems lost. It’s true this won’t be the marriage I imagined. Maybe it’ll be better.
If you love a strong, silent alpha male who wants nothing more than to protect and pleasure his new wife, it’s time to meet Brennon in Married 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
BRENNON
I drum my fingers along the steering wheel, staring up at the imposing columns of the cathedral. My brother’s wedding is today, and I’m expected to be here. I’d rather be at home where I don’t have to deal with the whispers and the pitying stares from my family’s high society friends.
They were my friends too. But the stroke stole the ability to communicate from me. I can mutter a few words here and there. Nothing comes out right. It all gets stuck inside my head and despite the best speech therapy that money can buy and numerous consults with neurosurgeons, no one can put my brain back together again.
No one can turn back the clock and change the fact that at thirty, I had a massive stroke. They called it a patent foramen ovale, which means I had a fuckin’ hole in my heart. It went undetected for years until the day it caused the stroke.
Overnight, I changed from a billionaire CEO to a rambling guy who pissed himself and had to relearn how to walk. I did it. I regained everything but my ability to speak. It’s still not enough.
I’m not the same man I was, so I retreated. I built my own cabin in the mountains of Courage County, far from the family business.
I should have just sent a wedding gift and called it done. But I was curious about the woman my brother would marry. She has to be a gold digger, a fair-weather woman who will be gone the moment my brother needs support or companionship.
Forcing myself from the car, I nod at the men in suits that are carefully guarding the fancy cathedral here in Asheville. I don’t even bother trying to speak, not when it’s clear they know who I am. I am an Abernathy and here that inspires admiration and respect. But mostly, well-earned fear.
I move through the winding halls without an escort or a guide, not eager for this reunion. I wonder if it’s too late to send the gift and duck out.
By now, the first look should be starting. Mom will want everyone gathered in one room so there can be dozens of family photos. After all, an event’s success is directly proportional to how much envy it causes in one’s upper crust friends.
I slip into the room. Cool air, ornate marble surfaces, and gold filigree scream that this is not the place where the poor worship. No, this is for sell-outs like us who make our money lying, cheating, and stealing from everyone around us. But at least, we look good doing it.
My eyes instantly go to Cadence, the name I recognize from the wedding invitation. She’s a goddess with long, black flowing hair that’s coiffed up in a careful bun with a few tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Her bright, blue eyes are filled not with anticipation at the events of the coming day but anxiety. Her plump red lips are so damn kissable. And those curves make my mouth water and leave me aching to hold her close.
There’s just one problem. She’s my brother’s girl. She’s wearing a wedding dress. She’s marrying that lucky bastard today. She carefully adjusts her veil and when she catches my eye in the mirror, she turns.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. I want to tell her to run away with me instead. I want to yell at her that she’s making the worst mistake of her life. That my brother—God forgive me—is a heartless bastard who will do nothing more than crush her hopes and dreams.
But there’s nothing to say. The words might come out as gibberish anyway.
Cadence gives me a guarded smile. She steps forward, her voice quiet and lilting. She’s a melody I forgot but the moment I hear it, I know every note by heart. “Hi, I’m Cadence.”
I nod to her. Maybe it’s a good thing that I can barely speak. Because if I could, only the filthiest words would be coming out of my mouth. Things that would make this curvy goddess blush for days.
“It’s nice to meet the last member of the family,” she says. Her knuckles are white from where she’s clutching the folds of the wedding gown. It looks like some monstrosity my mom forced her to wear. It wouldn’t surprise me if those are real diamonds sewed into the bodice.
I nod again, rather than try to speak.
“Your family is very nice.” She stumbles over the word and we both know why. They’re vipers, every last one of them. Up until my stroke, I was the cruelest of them. But having your entire family turn on you when you’re alone in the hospital changes you.
Since I won’t risk saying anything, I put my hand on her shoulder. Even with the thin white material that signifies she belongs to my brother, the touch still feels right. It feels like I should be doing this every day, comforting her and protecting her.