Read Online Books/Novels:
Followed By The Mountain Man – The Mountain Men of Linesworth
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
Hard and fast in 280 characters or less.
|Books by Author:|
Here’s the thing: I may be a twenty-four-year-old woman living in the time of social media, selfies, and hashtags, but deep down, I am an old-fashioned girl.
Well, not even that deep down. It’s basically on the surface and I’m not exactly hiding it. I, Matilda Jones, am holding onto an optimistic outlook that true love is worth waiting for.
I’m a heart-on-my-sleeve kinda girl who grew up on rom-coms with clichéd happily-ever-afters. They are the best. And not just because they make me believe that maids in Manhattan can find their one true love, not just because they reaffirm that shopaholics can find more than a green scarf. They are movies that remind me that in the end, everything turns out okay.
So why does the deliriously sexy man ten yards away make me want to forget everything I ever believed?
Because he is making my life a living hell.
And it’s hard to believe in getting my own HEA when this cocky chef keeps looking at me like I’m an idiot for believing that my hard work will eventually equal a payoff. He’s so obnoxious with his long line of customers every day at noon, all gobbling up his carefully curated menu. And then here I am, looking at my unsold muffins and scones as they dry out as the sun rises in the Bavarian-style mountain town of Linesworth where I was born and raised.
I always thought that by now I would be getting somewhere with my life… but since I finished college a few years ago, I’ve been wandering from one thing to the next, overstaying my welcome at the cottage my parents bought several years ago — intending it to be a rental.
I’ve always loved the farmer’s market, ever since I was a little girl. I’d come here each week with my parents and get an ice cream cone or elephant ear and Mom would buy kale and tomatoes and Dad would buy aged sausage links and we’d all leave happy. It was magic, those mornings, the place where I felt coziest in the whole wide world, and it’s where I wanted to be. I love this town, the community of artists and entrepreneurs that live here, not to mention the drool-worthy bearded men that come here for outdoor adventures.
I went to college for accounting. And while I could get a job in an office, the only places hiring were over the mountains in Seattle. I didn’t want to leave after I’d just moved back.
I always loved making pottery as a hobby, and I have sold it at market off and on, but it doesn’t earn enough to pay the bills. I have worked odd jobs, helping local restaurants when they’re short staffed or when the city is throwing big festivals.
When I saw an old food truck for sale on Craigslist, I decided to use the last of my cash to buy it. I always loved cooking for my family, and everyone always says I make amazing food. I thought it would help me become self-sufficient. My dad helped me paint it, and I slapped on a logo. My mom helped me refurbish an old espresso machine and I started baking muffins. The plan was to park it at the market and sell lattes and treats to everyone buying their produce and handmade wares.
It seemed easy enough. Unfortunately, no one wants my coffee. Or my treats.
They only want Benji’s grub from his aptly named Lumberjack Smoke Haus. It smells divine, hickory smoked BBQ bratwurst. The fact that we’re a Bavarian-style village filled with mountain men and he is offering this cuisine? I mean, it’s on point.
Which is great. I mean, really fantastic. I’m so happy for him.
Also maybe a teeny bit jealous. And by teeny, I mean a whole heck of a lot.
Because while I’ve been hustling hard, he just drove into town, parked his fancy-pants food truck a block away from mine, and started making bank. He isn’t even a local!
I know I sound a bit pathetic.
And a bit dramatic.
Sure, he has a beard and allegedly loves to mountain climb, but he’s flashy in ways this town isn’t. The town that I love.
And last week, he started following me on Chatter. And he direct messaged me, asking me to follow him back. Who does that? I mean, my account is private — and he has plenty of women following him already. Why does he care about me and my totally inconsequential food truck competition?
He’s a “reformed” city slicker who loves his smartphone. He uses the Chatter app to convey his every last thought, sending out chats day and night to his gajillion followers, who seem to think he is God’s gift to this mountain.
It’s driving me batty. It’s keeping me up at night. And no, not just the visions of his delectable bearded face… I hate being in a feud with him, mostly because he seems to have absolutely no idea that I loathe him.