Nine Month Contract (Mountain Men Matchmaker, #1)

by Amy Daws

“Please, Dad,” Everly scoffs casually. “I’m not even a virgin.” Calder screams. Literally screams. It echoes off the foothills, likely sending all the wildlife scrambling.

“I know I won’t be able to find you love, Uncle Wyatt. You’ve made it crystal clear that’s not what you want in life. But please, let me be a part of helping you become a dad before I go.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and whispers in my ear, “Because I know you will make an amazing one.”

She holds her phone up to me and plays a video of them at the concert. Two bearded men in flannel sing every single lyric to “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” At one point, they press their backs to each other and join hands above their heads. It’s intimate and hilarious, and I have to fight to hide my smile. This shit could go so viral. The phone pans to show blondie here with tears in her eyes from laughing, and then she moves the camera to another bearded guy who’s not singing along.

I can’t even tell if he’s having fun. Except for the fact that he’s wearing a Taylor Swift Eras Tour concert tee and has a stack of bracelets running up his inked forearm. Who the fuck are these people?

“Because you’ve both been rejected recently, and my grandpa always said that rejection just means you’re one step closer to finding your solution.”

the parlor house that’s the town’s only bar called the Jamestown Mercantile. Their catchphrase is “where everyone is

feral,” and hell, it fits.

“But life is nothing if not a game, and I’m almost thirty, so I need to start playing. Being frugal and safe all these years hasn’t got me very far. This feels like something that could help me get ahead, and I might actually be made for it.”

And fuck these lady clinics. Honestly, what’s so hard about having some extra-large sheets on hand? As a full-figure female, this is a problem I encounter more times than I care to admit, and our society needs to evolve past that. And the ridiculous BMI scale. Hotels are horrible about that too. Those towels are a joke. I’m lucky to get them wrapped around half of my lower body. My ass, hips, and thighs require some extra material.

“Trust me, I can handle each bit of you every day of the week and twice on Sundays.”

“Sex is Mother Nature’s cough medicine,” Calder says with a dopey smile. “You got a little tickle in the back of your throat? A good bang session will make that pain disappear, guaranteed.”

“I mean, maybe if I just kissed you right now...maybe if I stuck my tongue down your throat and laid you down in one of these stalls and fucked your brains out like the fantasy you described in the truck, we could both finally breathe a little bit easier.”

“if you let me fuck you, then you need to know that means I will own your body. Every particle on your skin will be mine for the taking. Do you understand?”

“You thought I was controlling before? You haven’t seen anything until I sink my cock deep inside you. Then you’ll really be mine.”

“I want to watch my seed drip out of your greedy little cunt after I give you another orgasm.”

“I told you if I fucked you, every part of you would belong to me. Did you think I was joking?”

“You have a piece of me inside you, and I still want more of you. I can’t get enough.”

“I’m in love with you, lucky number thirteen. You’re not my second choice or thirteenth choice. You’re my only choice.”