by Gemma Weir
Kept By The Mountain Man
Montana Mountain Men #3
Gemma Weir
Kept by the Mountain Man
Montana Mountain Men #3
Copyright © 2021 Gemma Weir
Published by Hudson Indie Ink
www.hudsonindieink.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design by Rebel Ink Co.
Kept by the Mountain Man/Gemma Weir – 1st ed.
ISBN-13 - 978-1-913904-98-2
Contents
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Gemma Weir
Other Authors at Hudson Indie Ink
***Warning***
1. Alice
2. Granger
3. Alice
4. Granger
5. Alice
6. Granger
7. Alice
8. Granger
9. Alice
10. Granger
11. Alice
12. Granger
13. Alice
14. Granger
15. Alice
16. Granger
17. Alice
18. Granger
19. Alice
20. Granger
21. Alice
22. Granger
23. Alice
Epilogue
For fictional men in all their forms, because sometimes they’re so much better than the real life ones.
Acknowledgments
This story isn’t how it was supposed to happen. If you were looking for mindless smut, then I’m sorry, but the emotion just wouldn’t shut up and so it is what it is. This book is deeper than a puddle, but I promise I put all the orgasms in to try and balance it out.
I am having such a blast writing this series. I mean, when else would I get a chance to write about a man who wants his woman by his side 24/7 and not have someone screaming ABUSE at me. Never, that’s when.
Granger was supposed to be the quiet brother, but if you’ve got this far, you’ll know he’s definitely not the shy and retiring type. I actually think that he might be a bit crazier than his brothers, you just don’t expect it, because he’s not beating his chest and behaving like a caveman for anyone but Alice.
Every time I write my little love story at the back of each book, I sit there and remember that this is my life, that I do this for a living and I swear it makes me tear up a bit each and every time. I am literally living the dream and it fucking rocks.
If you guys have read any of these before you’ll know my bestie Sarah always gets a mention in my books. She mentioned the other day that she’s not really been as involved in this series as she has in the ones that have come before it, and I suppose that’s true. But here’s the reason why… My bestie is living her own dream and she’s smashing it. She’s at college, taking her future by the balls and calling it bitch and I’m so freaking proud of her. You’ve got this, hun, and in a few years’ time, you’ll be a fully qualified midwife and up to your elbows in vaginas and baby goo.
To everyone at Hudson Indie Ink, you guys are awesome, thanks for supporting me while I spend my days writing about horny, insane mountain men.
To my wonderful and very, very patient cover designer Kerry Heavens at Rebel Ink Co. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been the nightmare client with this one, but I promise not to be for the rest of the series.
Sarah my wonderful editor, you make my words all pretty and shiny, thank you for getting me and recommending my books to everyone, including me lol.
As always, to my fabulous readers, thank you for reading my words, loving my heroes and embracing the worlds I’ve created. I’m grateful for each and every one of you.
There’re still four more Barnett brothers to come, so watch this space for Claimed By The Mountain Man coming soon.
About the Author
Gemma Weir is a half crazed stay at home mom to three kids, one man child and a hell hound. She has lived in the midlands, in the UK her whole life and has wanted to write a book since she was a child. Gemma has a ridiculously dirty mind and loves her book boyfriends to be big, tattooed alpha males. She's a reader first and foremost and she loves her romance to come with a happy ending and lots of sexy sex.
For updates on future releases check out my social media links.
Also by Gemma Weir
Montana Mountain Men
Property of the Mountain Man
Owned by the Mountain Man
The Archers Creek Series
Echo (Archer’s Creek #1)
Daisy (Archer’s Creek #2)
Blade (Archer’s Creek #3)
Echo & Liv (Archer’s Creek #3.5)
Park (Archer’s Creek #4)
Smoke (Archer’s Creek #5)
The Scions Series
Hidden (The Scions #1)
Found (The Scions #2)
Wings & Roots (The Scions #3)
The Kings & Queens of St Augustus Series
The Spare - Part One
(The Kings & Queens of St Augustus #1)
The Spare - Part Two
(The Kings & Queens of St Augustus #2)
Other Authors at Hudson Indie Ink
Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Stephanie Hudson
Sloane Murphy
Xen Randell
C. L. Monaghan
Sci-fi/Fantasy
Brandon Ellis
Devin Hanson
Crime/Action
Blake Hudson
Mike Gomes
Contemporary Romance
Gemma Weir
Elodie Colt
Ann B. Harrison
***Warning***
This book contains an over the top, jealous, unreasonable, possessive asshole.
If you consider unapologetic alphaholes unacceptable, or feel their behavior is in some way abusive, then this isn’t the book or series for you.
If you’re a nay sayer who thinks what I write is romanticizing domestic violence and abuse then please, please stop reading now.
This book isn’t a guide to dysfunctional relationships, it’s fiction. My books are fantasy, this isn’t real life, it’s a romance novel and should be read as such.
We all know in the real world throwing a woman over your shoulder, messing with her birth control or stalking her and letting yourself into her home is a one way ticket to either a restraining order or the mental hospital. But I’d like to think that in fiction it’s okay to agree that these things are incredibly sexy. Please do not kink shame me or my enthusiastic readers for finding these extreme alphahole behaviors hot, maybe if you read this book with the pinch of romantic salt it was intended to come with, you might like it too.
So if, like me, you love a guy who is so obsessively in love with his girl that he will snarl,
demand, punish and fuck her until she gives herself to him completely, then read on and welcome to the world of my Montana Mountain Men.
1
Alice
Teeth gritted, I tip my head back and blink up at the bright winter sun taunting me in the sky above. Why did my stupid shit heap of an RV have to break down here? I mean, yes, I’m in Montana which is the state I wanted to get to, but I’d planned to head for one of the bigger, more popular ski resorts hoping to find a job at a hotel or in a café.
Instead, I’m in Rockhead Point, population, not enough, and my car has stopped, literally just stopped. I have money, I could maybe get it fixed, but the last time I paid to get it patched up, the guy told me the engine was on its last legs and if it broke down again it’d end up costing me much more than the RV’s worth to fix it.
When my dad bought this crap heap RV back in the eighties, he was so proud to own a brand new vehicle. Unfortunately for my dad, this was a shining example of his bad decision making, and the RV I inherited when he was sent to jail for fraud, is a pile of crap and always has been.
Silver lining to Dad being incarcerated – we at least had a vehicle to move all our stuff in when we lost our house and had to move in with my grandparents.
I smile as I think about the time we spent living with Gram Gram and Pops, those were some of the happiest times of my life. Gram Gram baked almost every day and when me and Serenity came back from school, the house always smelled like sugar and vanilla.
Those two years were so calm and normal, I wish we’d stayed. Instead, Mom met Wayne, a long-distance truck driver from Florida, and dragged us half way across the country to move into his trailer with him. We only got to see Gram Gram and Pops every couple of years after that.
Tears try to fill my eyes, but I blink them away. I can’t lose my shit on the side of the road; tears don’t solve problems and I’m nothing if not a great problem solver, after all, I learned from the very best. I think Serenity became our family fixer around the time we moved to Florida. She was thirteen, I was eight, and when Mom decided she’d lose Wayne if she had to stay behind and look after us, it made total sense that Serenity could step up and take care of both me and her while Mom toured the country in Wayne’s truck.
The first few weeks were scary, but honestly my sister was amazing, Gram Gram taught us how to cook when we lived with her, she also taught us how to be thrifty, how to make each dollar stretch. The things we didn’t already know about how to take care of ourselves, we figured out pretty quickly.
We made friends with the sweet old lady who lived in the trailer next door, and once she figured out that Mom wasn’t always around, she kept an eye on us and never told anyone that two kids were essentially living alone.
The years we lived in Florida weren’t the greatest, but me and my sister were a family. If I had any problems, Serenity fixed them for me.
In the years that followed, Mom met three other Waynes and so we moved whenever she fell in love, bouncing about across the country until we finally ended up in Missouri. That’s when everything kind of went to shit.
Bob, the pharmaceuticals sales rep, became Mom’s third husband when I was thirteen and Serenity was eighteen. By then, my sister was more like a mom to me than my actual mom. She was the one who helped me with my homework, gave me tampons when I started my period, and nursed me through the failure of my first crush. If I had a problem my sister fixed it, until she didn’t anymore.
The day she came home from school and announced that she’d enrolled in the military and was leaving for basic training, was one of the worst days of my life. Serenity was my world, my one constant, my big sister and my sole support network.
She packed her stuff, kissed me goodbye, and told me she couldn’t sacrifice any more of her life to take care of me and had to do something for herself for once. And then she was gone. She has an apartment in West Virginia that she and her boyfriend share somewhere close to the military base they work out of. She sometimes sends me a text on my birthday if she’s not on deployment, but I haven’t seen her in person since the day she left.
Pops passed away when I was fifteen, Gram Gram a year later, and somehow by the time I was sixteen I had literally no one who cared about me in my life. The day I graduated from Highschool, I loaded my dad’s shitty RV—that thankfully Serenity kept running till she left—with a case full of my clothes and a handful of other things, and left while Mom and Bob were on a yet another business trip, their tenth that year. It took her nearly six months to call me and ask me where I was.
Since then, I’ve spent the last five years following the seasons and seasonal jobs. In summer I head for the beach, I waitress or tend bar and make the most of the seaside towns and tourists. In the fall I follow the leaves, almost always ending up in a place with spectacular color changing trees and nature, then in the winter I find the snow. Spring is usually a quiet time, but there’s always a job to be found if you’re not picky about what you do.
Shitty and falling apart as it might be, this RV has been my home and transport for years and without it, I’m pretty damn screwed.
I Lift the hood and peer at the engine, wishing it had a big arrow pointing to the broken bit so I could attempt to fix it without having to find a mechanic, but unfortunately one of the things Gram Gram never taught us was how to fix a car. Serenity knew, but she left before I could drive, and good old Bob had no interest in spending time with his wife’s annoying teenage daughter.
After I left Missouri, I did think about tracking down my dad. He got out of jail right about the time we moved in with Bob, but he never made any effort to contact us over the years, so it seemed stupid to reach out to someone who had about as much interest in being a father as Mom did in being a mother.
Giving up on my futile engine inspection, I shut the hood and lean my ass against it, pulling my cell out of my jeans pocket and looking down at it. For a moment I think about clicking into the contact section and calling someone, but even after five years on my own, I still only have three numbers listed in there. Mom, Bob and Serenity, and none of them would care that my RV had died in a small town in Montana. Not that I’d ever call them to burden them with my problems anyway.
It took me a long time growing up to understand that I was a generally unlikable person. I’m not rude, or mean, I just don’t have the type of personality that people like. As a kid I tried to change, I tried to make friends, but the ones who did tolerate me for the short term were soon repulsed by my needy nature and tendency to cling.
The high school guidance counselor, that the school insisted I saw, said that no one liked someone who was incapable of looking after themselves and unless I wanted to be alone for the rest of my life, I should learn to become independent and self-sufficient.
That meeting with Mrs. Geraldine Colburn was an enlightening experience. In less than an hour, she made me understand why I struggled to make friends, why my mom had always picked her boyfriends over me and why Serenity left. Her words changed everything for me and I’ll always be grateful for her honesty.
Since the day I left home I haven’t attempted to force my company on anyone, I know who I am, so I don’t contact my mom or Serenity. I’m not a burden anymore, and with that realization came a freedom I wasn’t expecting.
I’ve lost count of the number of jobs I’ve had in the past five years, but I never try to form bonds or set down roots. I move with each season, never settling anywhere for more than three months. I’m a nomad, but I don’t mind.
Sighing, I switch to my internet tab and start to type in ‘Mechanics shops near me’ but a car slows to a stop beside me before I can hit enter.
“You having some car troubles?” a low, rumbling voice asks.
“I’m fine, I’m just about to call a mechanic,” I say, not looking at the person as I hold out my cell to indicate my readiness to make a call.
“My brothers own the only mechanics shop in town, I’ll give them a ring, tell them to get the
tow out here.”
“No that’s fine, I can handle making the call, thanks though,” I say politely, still not acknowledging the man.
“I’ll wait for them to arrive.”
“I appreciate you stopping to check on a stranger on the side of the road, that’s very nice of you, but honestly I’ll be just fine. Thank you.”
The road crunches beneath tires and I’m pleased when the car starts to pull away, only instead of leaving, he pulls ahead of me, slowing to a stop on the side of the road and killing the car’s engine. Either this guy is a super helper that just won’t take no for an answer, or he’s a creep and I’m going to have to lock myself in my stationary RV while I call the cops or hope I’m a faster runner than he is.
His car door swings open and I see his head appear, followed by a broad back. More and more of him curls from the car and I feel my eyes widen, because this guy must be well over six foot tall. I’m not a short girl at five foot eight and he’s at least a head taller than me.