by Frankie Love
It's not just Rosie that needs my protection--our babies do too.
ROSIE
Arranged marriages may be fine for some girls, but I'm not some girls.
I'm on the run with one goal: avoid my uncle and the plans he has for me.
What starts as a reckless afternoon, suddenly becomes a life tethered to a man I barely know.
I thought a pregnancy would buy my freedom.
But I was wrong.
And my uncle is ready to make someone pay.
Darling You,
BUCKED is a stand alone story that is packed with true love and a man who knows what he wants: his woman. He fights for her like a real mountain man knows how to do! I hope you love it to pieces--I had so much fun working on it with you in mind! Also, if you loved TIMBER, Jax and Harper (and their babies!) are in Buck and Rosie's story too!
xo, frankie
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Chapter 1
BUCK
I’m not a complicated man.
And the things I want in life are pretty damn simple.
A woman to love and a family to protect.
That’s not asking for the goddamned sun and stars. I just want to go to sleep under the moon; in this cabin I built with my own two hands, knowing that I have some fucking meaning, purpose. You know, a life that is bigger than myself?
I’m just a man who lives in the forest who hunts in the winter and fishes in the summer.
Of course, I work, too. I’m not some lazy sack of shit living on canned chili and moonshine. I make a good living as an artist–an unconventional one, sure. I use a chainsaw and carve sculptures. I work with my hands, making something out of nothing.
It’s what I’ve done my whole damn life.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. My chest is bare, my jeans slung low, and leather gloves protect my hands. I power off my chainsaw, placing it on the sawdust covering the forest floor then wipe the sweat off my neck.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Buck, it’s me Jax.” There’s a helluva lot of hollering in the background and I pull my phone from my ear.
“Everything okay?”
“You mean besides three six month old babies all wanting the same thing at once?” Jax laughs. “Damn, I love these kids, but Harper and I have our hands full. You better be living up the bachelor life for me, okay?”
I shake my head, knowing Jaxon is all talk. He found his woman and made a life with her. “You know having your girl and those babies is better than drinking shitty beer alone.”
“I know. That’s the difference between us though, Buck. I don’t drink shitty beer.”
It’s my turn to laugh now. Jaxon may live in the woods, but he’s a city boy in his bones–brewing fancy-ass beer and sporting hipster flannel shirts. I, on the other hand, was born and raised in these woods. This is no lumberjack phase; I’m a man who knows this mountain like the back of his hand, who’s been playing in these forests since I was a boy.
“You call to talk about beer or you got something else on your mind?” I ask, eyeing the chunk of wood I’ve just started ripping up. It’s going to be a bear, but it has a long way to go before it starts looking like a grizzly.
“Nah,” Jax says. “Harper wanted to know if you want to come for dinner tomorrow. She’s making chicken potpie. Your favorite.”
My stomach’s already growling for some of Harper’s home cooking. “Damn, you sure I can’t come this afternoon?”
“Just a sec.” Jax covers the phone and I hear him and Harper talking. Jax comes back on the line, “No, sorry man. Harper says tomorrow. She lives by a schedule these days. Hell, we all do. You can’t exactly do whatever you want when three babies are demanding your attention.”
“Alright,” I say, grabbing my chainsaw and carrying it to my workshop, ready for a shower. “But I’m hungry now and the ham sandwich I was planning on isn’t goanna cut it.”
“Not my problem.” Jaxon laughs, not realizing how good that fool has got it. “Go into town,” he tells me. “Go to town, get lunch at your mom’s diner and stop your complaining.”
“You know my mom can’t cook worth shit.”
Jax laughs, it’s a joke around here, how the one restaurant in town is owned by my mother, a woman who buys prepackaged everything and serves my dad cold cereal half the nights of the week and calls it supper.
“In fact, if you go to town,” Jax continues. “Grab me some sandpaper at the supply store and bring it tomorrow. I’ve run through most of mine and there’s no way in hell I’m getting a get out of jail free card today.”
“Your girl is locking you up?”
“Hell no. Harper’s taking the afternoon off and there isn’t a woman on earth who deserves it more. She’s going a few towns over and getting her hair and nails done, some girl shit. I’ll be here with the babies.”
I nod, knowing Harper and Jax have a healthy relationship, always giving one another what they need.
“Alright then, good luck with Cedar, Alder and Spruce. I’m sure the afternoon will go fine,” I tell him.
“I don’t need luck, Buck. These are my boys. I can spend the afternoon with them without a pep talk.”
I laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hang up and head inside to change. And damn, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. I’ve been waiting my whole damn life to find a woman, a wife–and Jaxon was just sitting in his cabin drinking whisky when a snowstorm hit and Harper showed up.
Lucky bastard.
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TIMBER
JAX
I've been called wild. Dirty. Untamed.
I moved to the woods to get away from the bullsh*t of the city. People there don't understand a man like me.
I work hard, and my hands are as calloused as my heart.
And nothing's gonna change that.
But now I've met Harper.
And my whole f*cking world has changed.
But this girl keeps running.
I need to make her stay because she's having my baby.
I'm gonna make sure my c*ck is the only one she ever needs again.
HARPER
I never expected my fiancé to break things off.
I'd saved myself for my wedding night, and now I'm left wondering why.
Needing to get away, I ran to my uncle's cabin in the woods.
But a storm has left me stranded on Jax's doorstep, and soon enough he takes me in his arms.
And on the floor. And on the table. And in the great outdoors.
Our time together has left me with a big problem ... a problem a wild man like him can't fix.
A problem that makes me run ... because I need a man who believes in true love and commitment.
I need a man who is ready to be a father.
WARNING: This story contains an untamed man who takes a virgin. Please don't read if you're not ready to reach for that vibrator under your pillow. If the batteries are out, your own hand will do.
No shame, babycakes. Enjoy this steamy story! You deserve it.
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Chapter 1
JAX
I swing down against the trunk a final time before getting out of the way. I call out to Buck, making sure he moves.
My dog, Jameson, barks wildly as he watches the swaying pine.
The tree falls with a strong, heavy rush that sends a chill over my skin.
It happens every time.
I feel most alive when I've taken something, using my own hands, and brought it to the ground.
I used to do that with women. There was nothing I liked more than fucking a woman I'd just met, giving them my solid wood, something they would remember. Then they could go home to their pansy-ass boyfriend or husband, and think of my trunk when someone else tried to get them off.
But then things changed. Fucking a woman I didn’t know got me in trouble.
With everyone.
And I had to get the fuck
out of town.
I moved out of the city a few months ago, and I haven’t looked back. I came out here, to the dense forest.
The only thing I miss about life back in Coeur d'Alene is the women. While I find a lot of raccoons in these parts, good pussy isn't as common as it was back home.
Now, instead of taking a woman hard and fast, I swing my axe. Some guys might use a chainsaw, but I like the feel of the blade biting into the wood. The power in each stroke.
I take down pine trees. I call myself an old-school lumberjack, but that's mostly just a joke I tell myself. I'm not doing anything with this pile of wood besides burning some of it and putting the rest in a heap at the side of the cabin.
I watch as the tree falls; timber.
“That was a big-ass motherfucker,” Buck says, taking a swig from the beer I gave him when he showed up an hour ago.
Buck owns the gas station and post office in town and drops off any packages I receive. I avoid town as much as possible.
“Damn straight,” I agree, dropping the axe blade into the base of the chopped tree.
I pull off my leather gloves and then run my hand over my thick beard as I assess the fallen pine. It will take me most of the week to cut this tree into stackable pieces.
“You wanna come down the mountain, head to the bar?”
I don't want to laugh in Buck's face—but the last thing I wanna do is sit on some plastic stool in a podunk bar, drinking cheap beer and listening to Buck and his big game–hunting buddies talk shit.
I'd rather sit in my own goddamned chair. I'd rather drink my own goddamned beer. And I sure as hell would rather listen to silence than discuss target practice.
I may live in the sticks, but I'm no motherfucking hillbilly.
My mother calls me a modern day Thoreau. I don't really give a shit what that means—but I think it means I like to sit in the quiet and think.
I also like to swing my axe. As I've mentioned. It’s the only sane thing in the world anymore. The only thing I can, without question, hold onto. Everything else is liable to fall apart.
“I don't like that scene. You know that, Buck. Not sure why you keep asking.”
“I'm asking because you're the crazy fool living in the woods, talking to yourself. You don't even have wi-fi out here.”
“That's intentional.”
Buck doesn't understand why I don’t go into town with him. It’s mostly because I have no interest in discussing my personal shit with anyone—especially him.
“Yeah, well, it's January. This shit's gonna get cold real fast.”
“It's cold already,” I tell him as we cross back to my cabin, passing the frosted tips of the pine trees. Jameson trails us as we make our way over the icy earth, the ground crunching with each step.
“Well, you're the fool who moved out to the woods at the end of fall, not me,” Buck says. “Just wanna make sure you don't become a recluse.”
I don't tell Buck that being a recluse is exactly what I'm after.
“I'll see you around then. And stop by the store if you need anything, ya hear?” Buck heads to his big pickup truck, hollering as he swings open the door, “Oh, and thanks for the beer, Jax. Though I'm not sure what that shit was.” He gives a hearty laugh as he turns the ignition.
Fucking fool, I think, shaking my head. He doesn't know what home-brewed beer is. I may be living in the woods, but I have a kegerator all hooked up inside my cabin. I brew beer, and it's the good stuff.
I watch him backing down the drive, grateful to see him go. He's a good guy, but I prefer my own company these days.
Heading to my cabin, I let Jameson in. I notice that snowflakes have begun to fall as the night sets in. I shut my door, knowing I need to add wood to my fire if I'm gonna stay warm tonight.
There sure as hell isn't anything out in these parts to get me heated up.
HARPER
The tires on my modest hatchback come to a dead halt, in the dead of winter, in what is quickly becoming the dead of night. I'm trying not to full-on panic.
I remind myself of the quote that's my new life motto—that is to say, the quote I read while I scrolled through Pinterest this morning at a gas station on my way out of Boise. I was deleting every single wedding picture I'd pinned, and came across this classic gem:
Keep Calm and Carry On
Okay, so I know it's cheesy, but I've gotta hold onto something right now. If I don't, I'll fall apart.
And I can't fall apart until I’ve at least pulled up at my uncle's cabin.
Which should be right here. Or right … somewhere.
This would all be a lot easier if 1) it hadn't grown pitch dark in, like, four seconds, 2) Google maps would pull up on my phone, and 3) it wasn't snowing.
And these flakes are coming down fast. This hatchback isn't four-wheel anything. It doesn't even have four seats.
How did I end up here? Oh, right, my fiancé ditched me a week before our wedding.
I drop my head against the steering wheel, not wanting to lose it, pinching my eyes closed tight. A full-on sob will not get me somewhere warm and toasty and safe.
I quickly lift my head as the horn on my car begins to blast. This is about the same time I realize that, if I want to be warm and toasty tonight, I'm going to have to light the fire myself.
In the dark.
This wasn't the greatest plan.
Keep Calm and Carry On.
I blink back my tears and scan the old logging road. I doubt anyone has been out here in ages. My own uncle said it's been two summers since he came.
But I have nowhere else to go. I want to avoid the social media meltdown that will surely ensue once everyone gets word about Luke ditching me.
My parent didn't want me to go alone, which under normal circumstance I would understand. I still live under the covering of my parents, and believe that they know what’s best for me.
But this is different. We were all shocked by Luke's choice—after all, he and I had courted for two years. He had become family. So when I insisted that I needed some time away on my own, my family helped me find a place where I could ride out this storm. I spent twenty-one years earning their trust and they know I would never allow myself to get into a compromising position.
And my uncle offered his old cabin, which was so generous of him. I don't come from gobs of money. Or even slivers of cash. I come from humble people, I'm the daughter of a hard-working preacher.
It's not like we have lake houses and time shares—and even if we did, they wouldn't be wi-fi free.
Which was my one and only request when I told my family I needed some time away.
Granted, wi-fi would be really helpful at the moment, as I can't get my bearings and have no clue where my uncle’s cabin actually is.
Besides, my car is stuck in this snow. I'm not going anywhere.
This is the time a normal girl would cry.
But I'm not a normal girl. I was raised to keep my chin up, to be grateful in all circumstances. To believe that everything happens for a reason. Even the worst things.
Even things like having a broken heart. Because even if my heart got broken in the process of Luke leaving me, it's better that it happened now instead of a month from now.
Still … I'm going to need a lot of time to heal.
Biting my lip, I try to think through my next step. I'll freeze if I stay in this car tonight; even though it's stuffed to the gills with blankets and provisions, I know it can drop to freezing in the Idaho State Forest in January.
Heaven knows I don't want to die tonight.
I close my eyes, and ask for a sign.
When I open them, it's like a miracle. Through the windshield, in the distance, I see a tiny trail of smoke reaching the clear night sky.
Whoever lit that fire is my Savior. I need to find him.
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Claimed By The Mountain Man
"Everly," he growls. "I'm claiming you as mine, right h
ere, right now."
SILAS
I want a wife who knows what it means to live off the grid, cook my food, and keep my bed warm.
In exchange, I'll give her a lifetime of happiness in the form of my c*ck.
But d*mn, Everly's more than I bargained for and I don't think she has any idea what it means to be mine. Hell, I wanted a wife, but I'm not sure I know how to live with a woman.
EVERLY
Did I expect to be a mail-order bride at twenty-two? No. But honestly, my life could be a helluva lot worse. The agency says this Alaskan mountain man is rich, hot as heck, and willing to pay off my student loans.
I'm crossing my fingers he's everything I signed up for.
But I may be a little over my head. Mostly because I'm marrying a stranger and also because I've never dated. Period.
Clearly I have no clue how to be a wife ... but it's too late to back out now.
*WARNING: This story features a mountain man who knows exactly what he wants. And how he wants it. Don't one-click if you want a tame mail order bride story ... this is a classic Frankie Love romance ... steamy as hell with a HEA.
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Chapter 1
Grabbing the Prosecco from the fridge, Everly finds three mason jars, pops the cork, and divvies up the bubbly. The goal tonight is to forget the reality of the situation she and her two best friends have found themselves in.
Homeless. Jobless. Boy-less.
Champagne will certainly help the cause.
“Is that the last bottle?” Delta asks, as Everly balances all three glasses in her hands and walks back into the living room.
Everly moans as she delivers the drinks. She’s wearing her hair in a messy bun and her nerd-girl glasses contribute to her low-key appearance. But tonight she isn’t acting low-key. Tonight she is dramatic and drunk.
