Owned by the Mountain Man Read Online Mia Brody

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Novella Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)

Can this curvy thief steal the grumpy mountain man’s heart after a break-in gone wrong?


I wasn't breaking and entering. I was on my way to grandma's house. That's the honest truth. The fact that I'm dressed like a cat burglar should be of no importance to anyone. Not even the hot mountain man whose cabin I accidentally stumbled into.

The coming snowstorm is unexpected...so is the citizen's arrest. The problem is I've never wanted to let anyone search me so badly. This mountain man might be gruff and grumpy, but he's welcome to handcuff me anytime.


Yeah, she was on her way to grandma’s house. And I’m the big, bad wolf. Although I can’t deny that there’s definitely something in me that wants to eat her up, this snowstorm is the only thing keeping her here.

As soon as I can, I’m washing my hands of trouble and turning her over to the sheriff. That was my plan. But the more time I spend around the curvy little thief, the more I think it’s my heart that’s in danger.

If you love a grumpy alpha male who falls hard and loves his curvy woman fiercely, it’s time to meet Nash in Owned by 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*************



The presence is back again today. My grandma would have said it’s the spirit of those I didn’t join. But ghosts have a different presence. This is one of the living, a flesh and blood person who haunts me.

I’d bet this Rolex Daytona in rose gold that I’m working on, it’s a woman. It might sound strange to a sighted person, but women and men have different scents. Even if a woman uses masculine soap or cologne, she still has a different smell to her. It’s hard to explain to those who rely only on their vision. I haven’t had that luxury since I was a teenager.

I tip my head and listen, trying to catch her breathing. The clocks around the shop tick. Frankie, my little French bulldog, snores contentedly in the corner. The lights overhead—the ones that are only there for the benefit of my customers—hum softly.

It doesn’t matter that my senses are sharper than they used to be. I’m still not so good that I can detect her gentle breathing. Not for the first time, I wonder what she sounds like. What kind of laugh does she have? Is her voice a booming tenor or a whispering soprano? What noises does she make when she eats?

There’s nothing though and not for the first time, I consider calling out to her. But what if I scare her away? I can’t deny that there’s something about the presence that intrigues me.

I don’t care much for people, but she’s different. She’s followed me around for nearly two weeks, always careful to stay just far enough out of my senses that I can’t prove she’s real. But I can feel her underneath my skin. The same way the air gets hot and sticky before a thunderstorm, I feel her. All I can do these days is keep holding my breath and praying the rain breaks soon.

Beans paws at my leg through my blue jeans. He’s Frankie’s brother, the one who keeps us all on track.

“Alright, alright, we’ll go home,” I promise him. I can’t deny I’ve been staying later and later this week. I keep waiting for her to go home, to hear her twist a doorknob or the soft tap of her shoes against the wooden planks. But there’s nothing. No matter how late I stay, my girl won’t come out of the shadows.

At first, I thought she was a thief here to rob me. But each morning, I come to the shop, and everything is exactly where I left it. I’ve even had Duke, the teenager, who assists me take daily photos of all our projects. Each afternoon, I make him compare the photos to make sure there are no changes to any of the items.

Lifting my head, I call out to the assistive service on my phone. I have it call Duke and tell him to get his ass down here. He drives me to and from work every day.

Kid doesn’t normally complain. He’s too busy trying to keep the lights on and buy groceries for his little brothers. He got a raw deal when his dad walked away last year and left him to care for his siblings and his sick mama. That’s when I took him under my wing. “Aww, have you seen these roads tonight, boss?”

“No, I haven’t,” I answer in a deadpan.

He swears under his breath, in the way he does when he’s forgotten his boss is blind. It doesn’t bother me. Most people forget about my lack of vision when they’ve spent a lot of time around me. It just blends in and becomes another part of me. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy teasing Duke when he forgets.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he says, which is the closest thing the awkward boy will give me as a way of apology. Not that I need one. He’s never meant any harm. Duke doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

“Go slow. I hear the roads are rough tonight,” I warn before I end the call. There’s a snowstorm headed straight for Courage County. They’re calling it the blizzard of the century and according to the reports, the snow is already starting to fall. Still, there will be plenty of time for Duke to get me up the mountain and make it home safely to his mama.

While I wait for Duke, I put my shop back in order. Carefully, I put away my tools and add an antique Cartier pocket watch that I’ve been looking forward to restoring to my case. Like most of the residents, I’m expecting to be snowed in for the next two days. At least, I can bring some work home with me to keep my hands busy.

I wonder for a moment what my girl will do while I’m away. It strikes me that I’ll miss her while I’m at my place. Where will she be? What does she do when she’s not haunting my shop?