by Frankie Love
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
A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance
"Everly," he growls. "I'm claiming you as mine, right here, 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.
Prologue
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.
A dangerous pairing for any twenty-two-year-old woman.
“The state of my checking account was so depressing I was like, eff it, and bought two more bottles,” she says.
“That’s what I love about you, Everly,” Delta snorts. “You’re just so damn responsible.” She takes the glass from Everly’s hand and sets it on the coffee table before screwing the cap back on a bottle of eco-friendly nail polish. She’s just painted daisies on her big toes, as if declaring herself the ultimate flower child. Her long hair and boho dress complete the look. She’s a vegan, through and through, and living in Portland, Oregon makes her lifestyle easy.
Clinking the rims of their glasses, Everly takes a long sip. “I know, it’s hard to be such a put-together adult, but somebody has to do it.” She smirks, knowing she’s anything but put-together.
“No, but like, for reals, what are we going to do?” Amelia, who is braiding her hair, asks. She’s in ratty sweats and a tank top, but she gets a pass considering Derrick, her boyfriend of four years, just broke up with her. “I mean, all of us were legit counting on staying at Derrick’s summer house for the next three months. Now we’re going to get kicked out of here in a week. Then what?”
“Calm down. It’s all going to work out,” Everly tells her, not believing the words herself, but knowing Amelia needs the affirmation—considering she’s the one recovering from an unexpected break-up.
Everly falls onto the couch, squeezing between her two best friends. They all take drinks of the bubbly, each lamenting their own personal hell.
They aren’t exactly on top of the world. And they feel deceived. The entire universe led them to believe that if they went to college they would be grown-ups. But here they are, all three of them a week out of Oregon State College, with no job prospects, no boyfriends, and—apparently—no housing.
“This sucks,” Amelia says, her head falling on Everly’s shoulder. “Why didn’t a career counselor ever mention the fact that a Fine Arts degree wouldn’t help me? All it did was teach me that I’m more of a hobbyist in terms of creating visual masterpieces. Like, I can legit scrapbook, but that isn’t a job.”
“Um, sweetie,” Delta says, “my degree is in Hospitality. There are literally no jobs for me.”
“You can be a hotel desk clerk,” Everly suggests.
“Yeah, except I didn’t need a degree for that, and it won’t offer me health insurance or pay my student loans. It’s not realistic.”
“I know,” Everly says. “Even if I sold a story to some magazine, I’d make what—fifty bucks if I was lucky? And I can’t afford to sit here and write the next great American novel. That won’t pay any of the bills.”
Everly thought a degree in English Literature would help her become a writer, but so far she’s only completed a few short stories about her life as a college student. Not exactly inspiring.
“At this point I would do anything to stop feeling so out of control. I just want a plan,” Amelia says. “I feel desperate.”
“I’m not desperate, I’m just horny as hell. I haven’t been with someone in like, three months,” Delta moans. “I want a husband, someone to keep me warm at night and fuck me all day long.”
“Then we should have gotten MRS degrees, not BAs,” Everly says, sighing into her champagne. “Not that I’m exactly ready for marriage.”
Delta and Amelia both look at Everly, giving her puppy dog eyes. It’s no secret that she’s a virgin, and if anyone needs a man, it’s her.
“What?” Everly shrugs. “I’m not holding out for Mr. Right. The problem is, I’m just never going to meet a guy who is okay with taking it slow.”
“You don’t need to take it slow,” Amelia says. “You need a man who isn’t going to take no for an answer.”
“I don’t need to take it slow, either,” Delta says. “I just want to take it, if you know what I mean.”
Amelia shoves a pillow in Delta’s face. “Yes, we get it. You want to get laid. But on a more serious note, maybe there are new apartments on Craigslist?” Amelia suggests. “You know, since we’re getting evicted.”
“Not evicted,” Everly reminds her. “It’s just we’re in campus housing. We have to go.”
“Like, in a week.” Delta sighs. “This is dumb. Let’s do something bananas. Like, move to a commune. Or become Amish.”
Noticing the now-empty glasses, Everly returns to the kitchen and brings back some more champagne. “I just want a nice house and a normal life. Nothing crazy, just something regular.”
“With good sex,” Delta adds, winking. “And on that note, let’s look in the Help Wanted section with an open mind.” She opens her laptop. “At this point we don’t have many requirements.”
“I just want to get out of this college town,” Amelia says. Forgoing a glass, she grabs the bottle from Everly’s hand and takes a swig. “I can’t handle it here,” she says, wiping her mouth. “There are way too many memories of Derrick and me in this town, and I need to mo
ve on. Stat.”
Delta scrolls through the housing pages, and it’s more of what they’ve already seen. Tiny studios or massive houses requiring three months’ security deposit.
“Hmmm.” Delta keeps clicking, but there are no new listings. Eventually she takes the bottle from Amelia and drinks before passing it to Everly.
Everly follows suit, then sits between them once again, starting to feel more than a little tipsy.
“There’s nothing,” Amelia moans.
“Even if there were,” Everly adds, “it doesn’t matter. None of us have jobs. That’s priority number one.”
“Tell me again why none of us have parents who can help out?”
The three of them were roommates freshman year, and instantly bonded over the fact they’d all been raised by their grandparents. It was such a coincidence—it felt like destiny, and they had to stick together.
And they always did, through thick and thin, for four years. They put Delta’s grandpa in assisted living, attended the funeral for Everly’s grandma and grandpa, and were there when Amelia’s grandma moved in with her older sister.
They have family that love them, but not family that can support them, or even house them.
It’s time they figure this out on their own.
“Okay, go to the want ads,” Everly says, pointing at the tab on the screen.
“Let’s see, here.” Delta takes another sip as the page loads.
The three of them read the job descriptions, not one of them remotely appealing.
Dog walker, ten hours a week.
Editor, must be proficient in Dutch.
Smoothie stand, pasties the required uniform.
“Well, we could do that,” Delta says, laughing. “We all have decent racks.”
“More than decent, but that doesn’t mean I could do it,” Everly says, frowning, knowing her looks have never been her problem.
The problem is, she’s never had a real boyfriend because she always gets so nervous and shy around guys.
“We’re all cute enough so the tips would be good,” Amelia says, considering the smoothie stand position. “But, it just seems so cold.” She covers her chest with her hands, cracking up.
Okay, so they are definitely buzzed.
“This is stupid.” Everly hovers her fingers over Delta’s keyboard. “Let’s try something totally different.”
In the search bar, she types: pretty girls, college degrees, open-minded, need jobs.
The first hit causes all three girls to tilt their heads to the side, and reach for the champagne, simultaneously.
Huh.
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Courted By The Mountain Prince
An Arranged Marriage Romance
"I can't hold back anymore. I don't want to and I don't need to. I'm taking her now."
PRINCE HUNTER
An arranged marriage is the last f*cking thing I want.
But this country is my home, and there's no way in hell I'm leaving.
Which means I'm marrying this straight-laced princess who seems to think resisting my royal c*ck is going to work.
Every time she pulls away, I want her more.
I've got a reputation that scares her.
But what scares me more is the fact that I'm actually falling for this girl.
PRINCESS VIOLET
Leaving my bankrupt island for this frigid mountain is the last thing I want.
When my father sends me off to marry a wild prince in exchange for a dowry that can save the country, I do my duty.
Hunter is determined to sleep with me, but the last thing I need is for him to bed me and leave me before I get him to the altar.
Problem is, my panties are soaked every time he glances my way.
And my heart? It's racing the moment his lips so treacherously meet mine.
It's not just my reputation at stake; my entire country is counting on me.
No pressure.
DARLING READER: This is a royal romance like you've never read before. But you won't need to pack a winter coat for this trip into the snow; this mountain prince is guaranteed to keep you plenty warm. In fact, you'll be pulling off the layers. ;)
Chapter One
People make a lot of assumptions about what it means to be a princess. I attribute that to Disney movies and fairy tales. The general population thinks being a princess equals glass slippers, servants, and Prince Charming. The reality—well, at least my reality—is pretty bleak in comparison.
My father, the King of Elexia, doesn’t exactly exude a strong leadership style. He’s much too generous to be the frugal king our island country needs right now, more than ever.
As a country, we’re broke—bankrupt.
Royally screwed.
Sure, most of the world’s population has done away with monarchies, but there are a few pocket countries that still govern by the crown. However, most of those governments are more fiscally sound than Elexia.
Which sucks.
On a lot of levels.
Mostly because my father thinks he has the perfect plan to save our royal asses.
“Violet, Iris, Dahlia, listen closely, my darlings.” Father directs my sisters and me as he sits upon his weathered throne, which has seen better days.
“One sec, Father,” Iris, says, closing her Snapchat app. I’m standing next to her in the throne room and can see that she’s just posted another selfie, which is apparently the only thing you use a phone for.
As the middle sister, she’s vying for attention anyway she can, I suppose. She hates living in Elexia—it’s too small and provincial for her tastes, and I suppose social media is the way she can avoid our reality. She slips her old iPhone into her pocket, and focuses on our father.
A smile spreads across his face, and he claps his hands with excitement. He must have big news; I haven’t seen him this happy in years. Well, not since before Mother died.
“What is it, dear Father?” Dahlia, my youngest sister asks. Her golden ringlets are natural, as is her quiet demeanor.
“It has been decided that you three, my lovely daughters, will save our country from disgrace.”
My heart pounds—this is what I’ve been hoping for. A chance to help my beloved country, a country whose shoreline is crested with foamy white waves and salty sun-kissed skies.
Our country, with waterfalls and relaxing vistas, where our hard-working farmers escape after a long workweek. Our country where my mother was born, where she was buried. Our country that is in my bones and close to my heart.
But even with all of that beauty, our castle is crumbling, our people are hungry, and I want to do something about it. I want to fight for our people and make a plan. I know my dad’s the King, but I think I’d make a good Queen someday.
I know that isn’t possible—my cousin Gibraltar will be inheriting the crown—but if I can help, I will. It’s all I want.
“How, father?” Dahlia asks. “How can I help? I’m just a princess.”
I scowl at her words. Just a princess is exactly what has kept us from being useful for our entire lives. I’m twenty-three, Iris is twenty-two, and Dahlia is twenty-one.
Stair-stepped princesses, now grown, and in all this time we’ve rarely been permitted to do anything substantial, even though there is much work to be done.
Work I have been doing. And even if my efforts are small, I believe they’re valiant: running the food bank, coordinating clothing drives, and volunteering at the homeless shelter. Necessary work that makes a difference.
“Not true,” I tell her. “There’s so much we can do. What’s the plan, Father, to help save Elexia?”
“Violet,” he addresses me. “As my eldest daughter, it affects you first.”
My eyes narrow, and I listen intently. I don’t want to miss a single detail about the plan. I will execute it flawlessly. For Elexia, I’ll do anything.
Unable to register his statement, I blink, my long lashes brushing my cheek, and I tuck strands of my unruly black hair behind my ears. I look nothing like my fair-haired sisters or father.
I am the mirror image of my mother, God bless her soul. And I know, I am certain, if she were here this would be out of the question.
An arranged marriage to save the crown?
“What on Earth are you talking about?” I ask.
Well, to be honest, it was more of a shriek.
“You should be pleased. I’ve spent months—nay, years—working toward this alliance. And, to be frank, it’s a much better match than I ever dreamed for you.”
“This is not happening. You can’t just marry me off, Father. I’d rather stay here than be forced to marry some random man.”
Father shakes his head. “Not any old bloke for my eldest girl. A prince.”
My sisters squeal beside me. Apparently this news pleases them. Of course it does. They must think me getting married is a riot.
Me, the sister who has refused to be courted by any eligible man in the country. Marriage has not been my priority. Saving Elexia from disgrace is my utmost concern.
“And Iris and Dahlia, how will they help the kingdom?” I ask, saving a sliver of hope that perhaps I can trade my sisters. One of them can marry this prince, and let me stay home, where I want to be.
“They will be married, too. But the eldest daughter is to be married first; we honor tradition here in Elexia. You will marry your husband, and then they will marry theirs.”
“A husband?” I ask, feeling faint. Pressing my hand to my heart, I feel my knees buckle, my skirt rumpling beneath me as I sink to the floor.
