Page 2 of Romanced By the Mountain Man

But at least, the days were busy. Nights were the worst. In the sterile, dark room there was nothing to distract me from the phantom pain.

Then a local women’s organization gave out baskets filled with gifts for the injured veterans. The second-hand reading tablet was inside of mine. Guess whoever donated the reading tablet didn’t think to erase it.

I picked it up when I was trying to distract myself. I found the device pre-loaded and opened a book on it. That night was my first taste of a story from Gwen Hughes and well, I’ve been a fan ever since. I own all of hers in print. Both the paperbacks and the hardcover editions with discreet covers.

Hell, I have an entire shelf of my bookcase devoted to her works. I just wish it contained the signed copies. It sounds crazy, but I want to hold something she’s held. I want to sniff the books to see if they have the slightest hint of her perfume.

Now all of my wishes have caused me to start hallucinating. That’s the only explanation for the woman standing by the broken-down car with a hand on her curvy hip. Her long, brown hair flows down her back, and she scowls at the smoking sports car.

It takes me a full thirty seconds to realize that I just passed her. I’ve never been one to leave a motorist stranded on the side of the road. Definitely not a woman alone. But there’s an awareness in my gut, something is tingling.

“It’s not her,” I say out loud as I put the truck in reverse. I’m seeing things. I’m so damn desperate to know what it feels like to have my hands on her hips and stare into that captivating brown gaze that my imagination is in overdrive.

She’s the only reason I started narrating. Once I was hooked on Gwen’s books, I started watching her live streams. From there, I knew I had to find a way to get close to her.

When I saw she was looking for a male narrator for her books, I sent her an email. I insisted I was the man for the job. I didn’t tell her that I had no experience or that I spent hours watching video tutorials to learn how to do it after she decided to give me a chance. I just needed to be around her.

Now, I stop on the side of the road, and the woman turns. That scowl that was directed at her car is focused on me.

My heart skips a beat.It’s her.

Gwen Hughes is actually on my mountain, and she looks mad as hell too. She pushes her hair out of her face and marches up to my truck. With every step, her little blue jean skirt is swishing against those thick thighs that are a staple in all of my dirtiest fantasies. “Would you believe some asshole sold me this piece of junk?”

2

GWEN

“Out of all theideas you’ve had, this has to be your craziest,” I tell myself as I turn off the interstate and onto the exit. I know from the GPS system in my car that Courage County is nearby.

The rural town sees some tourists for its old-fashioned charm but it’s not like Charleston, South Carolina where I’m from. Thousands of tourists flood our city every year, and I love that. Tourism helps the local businesses, and it’s fun to meet new people.

“Maybe it’ll turn out well though.” I’ve been reading a book on self-compassion, and it encouraged me to talk to myself the way I would a friend. Right now, I’m trying to channel my friend and fellow writer, Zoey Hart. She always has something cheerful to say to me. She’s my biggest supporter, but I don’t know how she’d feel about this little detour.

I was supposed to be on my way back from a book signing in Asheville. If all went well, I’d be home in just a few hours. Instead, I’m taking the scenic route. Yes, the scenic route involves driving through Courage County. It’s the place wherehelives. My book narrator.

OK, most authors hire a narrator when they start creating audiobooks. If they happen to write a book with a hero and heroine falling in love, then they would need male and female narrators.

I was trying to save money in the start and read out the heroine’s parts which meant I only had to find a hero. My narrator was an unknown when we began working together. I took a chance on him, and he took a chance on me. Now, we’ve read three books together over six months. Plenty of long nights repeating dirty words to each other.

Oh, Landon Shaw is never anything but professional with me. Sometimes, there’s a slightly flirty tone to our messages and once, I thought maybe he was trying to figure out if I have a boyfriend. But there’s nothing between us. Absolutely no reason for me to go visit him. Except that I have to.

I can’t explain it, and this is going to sound a little bit ridiculous, but I think he’s my soulmate. No, scratch that. Iknowhe is my soulmate. Deep in my gut, there’s a knowledge that I’m meant to be with him.

I’m not sure he feels the connection just yet. After all, I invited him to my book signing today but he didn’t show up. He didn’t message me back after that. Maybe going to see him after his clear sign that he’s not interested is a little weird. Maybe it even borders on stalking. But I’m pretty sure Landon is just shy.

He has social media accounts for his book narration services, yet he’s never posted a picture of himself. He just has a sterile logo for his avatar. His posts are all about the books he’s read and the authors he’s working with. There’s absolutely nothing personal.

He let it slip once in a private message that he lives in Courage County, North Carolina. That explains the delicious Southern drawl he has. That combined with his deep, raspy tone makes it sound like his voice is whiskey mixed with gravel.

I hit a pothole on the side of the road, startling me from my thoughts about the sexy book narrator. My companion in the backseat meows.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize to my cat.

He was adopted from the shelter after I learned he had no more time left on his stay. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. My parents would flip if they knew I had an animal for companionship. They’re leading professors at a prestigious university and believe that everything should have a practical purpose. Things exist to be studied and understood, not to bring beauty or joy or companionship.

The GPS unit powers down without warning. The stupid thing has been cutting off on me all day.

I glance at the dashboard, fighting a wave of frustration when I see the temperature gauge is rising again. I splurged on this car a few months ago. I told the salesman I wanted a fast car. Apparently, I should have specified that I also wanted one that works properly.

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