Title: Deep Wood
A Mountain Daddy Romance
Author: Margot Scott
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Release Date: May 1, 2020
Blurb
She’s mine to claim. Mine to protect. Mine to care for.
I swore I’d never go back to that mountain, not after my
childhood friend and I fell out years ago. So imagine my shock when I find out
he’s died and left me his old hunting cabin.
On the way there, I find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol without a
safety, in the form of smooth thighs, arresting green eyes, and curves that
could charm a sapling into a mighty oak.
But it turns out my old buddy’s gone and thrown me another curveball: the nymph
with the ass that won’t quit? That’s his eighteen-year-old little girl. She’s
running from something, but I’m not about to let anyone lay a finger on this
green-eyed angel.
I’ll put my life on the line to keep her safe, because that’s what good Daddies
do.
** ** ** ** **
Author’s note: I’ve wanted to write a
mountain-man romance for what feels like FOREVER! There’s just something about
a rugged, brooding loner with a big axe that makes you want to curl up by a
roaring fire. Enter, Silas Walker! He’s a little grumpy and a lot stubborn, but
once this mountain Daddy gets his hands on his baby girl, he’s never letting
her go.
Please be aware that this book contains suspense
elements and discussions of past physical abuse. But don’t let that heavy stuff
fool you, this romance is fast and filthy, with no cheating or cliffhangers,
and features a guaranteed HEA!
Only 99c!
Free in Kindle Unlimited
Excerpt
A gust of wind blows the playing cards off the table. Norah
drops to her knees to collect the deck before it’s lost. I join her, stuffing
the cards in the box as I grab them.
“Cold front’s moving in. I’ll go split some wood.” I hand
her the box of cards and then run around back to fetch the axe. Beneath the
awning off the garage sits a pile of logs protected from the elements by a blue
tarp.
I grab an armful of logs and take them to the chopping
block. I bust through half a dozen before I feel like I’m being watched. When I
turn, I find Norah standing there, watching me.
“Enjoying the show?” I grab a fresh log. She shivers as if
shaking off a trance.
“I’ll start bringing these in.” She fills her arms with wood
and then runs off, returning just as the first drop of rain hits the back of my
neck. I break up the last log and help her gather the remaining pieces. We’re
halfway to the house when the sky opens up, dumping frigid water down on top of
us.
“Better make a run for it,” I yell.
We sprint toward the house. Norah reaches the porch before I
do, dumping her pile on the porch with the first load so she can open the door.
I rush inside, drop my wood by the fireplace, then hurry back to help her with
the rest.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. My T-shirt clings to my
chest and back, and my jeans feel like they’ve gained thirty pounds.
“It got so cold so fast.” Norah rubs her arms. Even in the dim, gray light, I can make out the points of
her nipples through her tank top. My cock perks up as I imagine fixing my mouth
to her breast, tonguing her nipple through her shirt. I picture her without the
shirt altogether. Soft, creamy skin. Round, jiggly tits. Stiff nipples.
She catches me
staring, and rather than cover herself, she folds her arms and shoves her
breasts together. Forcing myself to look away is like telling a wolf not stalk
a rabbit, or a lion not to lick its chops.
Someday soon, Norah
and I are going to sit down and discuss what to do about this thing
between us. It’s time to set some ground rules, like no more paper-thin tank
tops.
“Go dry off,” I tell her. “I’ll start the fire.”
She looks like she wants to say something, then purses her
lips. As soon as I hear the bathroom door close, I let out a breath.
“Fuck...” This isn’t good. I have to get myself under
control before she comes back.
I stack the logs in the fireplace, tuck a crumpled piece of
paper into the center, then light it with a match. The fire crackles to life as
another rumble of thunder shakes the cabin. The storm will be on top of us in a
few minutes.
I peel my wet shirt off and toss it in the washer along with
my jeans. My boxers are damp, but I leave them on so I don’t accidentally give
Norah and eyeful on my way up to the loft. I’m about to head upstairs for dry
clothes when I spot Norah standing by the fire, gripping a towel around herself
that barely covers her ass.
She eyes me through strands of rain-soaked hair. I know
she’s naked under the towel, and I know all it would take to see her in all her
glory is a swift flick of the wrist.
“Silas,” she says. I don’t move a muscle. She moves closer,
her bare feet sinking into the rug with every step.
My muscles tense like they’re gearing up for a fight.
She drops her towel, and my pulse jackknifes.
“I want you.” She takes another step. I can’t stop my gaze
from drinking her in, and soon enough, I’m drunk. The firelight flickers off
her bare skin. She’s even more beautiful than I imagined.
The boxers I’m wearing are a size too small. They don’t
stand a chance once my cock starts to swell. She glances down at my bulge and
her lips drift apart. I catch the glint of her teeth and the tip of her soft,
pink tongue as she wets her mouth.
“Norah, we talked about this. I’m too old for you.”
“Actually, you’ve avoided talking about this. And you’re the
only one who thinks you’re too old for me.”
Author Bio
Margot Scott is an erotic romance author who likes long
nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream, and rainy
days spent in bed with her furbabies. When she’s not writing forbidden love
stories about bearded older men, you can find her browsing Pinterest for
pictures of pink things.
Author Links
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