Loving the Mountain Man (Montana Mountain Men Book 7)

LOVING THE MOUNTAIN MAN MONTANA MOUNTAIN MEN #7 GEMMA WEIR Loving the Mountain Man Montana Mountain Men #7 Copyright © 2022 Gemma Weir Published by Hudson Indie Ink www.hudsonindieink.com This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Cover Design by Rebel Ink Co. Loving the Mountain Man/Gemma Weir – 1st ed. CONTENTS ***Warning*** 1. Cody 2. Betty 3. Cody 4. Betty 5. Cody 6. Betty 7. Cody 8. Betty 9. Cody 10. Betty 11. Cody 12. Betty 13. Cody 14. Betty 15. Cody 16. Betty 17. Cody 18. Betty 19. Cody 20. Betty 21. Cody 22. Betty Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Gemma Weir Other Authors at Hudson Indie Ink Six Barnetts down, one to go. If you read this book and end up pregnant as a result, I totally expect pictures and for the baby to be named after one of the characters. ;) ***WARNING*** After the hate I’ve gotten over my last few releases, I think it’s time to extend the warning again. My heroes are assholes. They are not PC. They are, at times, morally ambiguous, behave like cavemen, and sometimes, they’ll do whatever it takes to get their heroines pregnant. Please, please, please don’t read this book thinking I’m exaggerating about how OTT and alpha these characters are because you’ll hate the book and then write a scathing review saying both me and my characters are psychopaths. This book contains an over-the-top, jealous, unreasonable, possessive asshole. If you consider unapologetic alphaholes unacceptable or feel their behavior is in some way abusive, then this isn’t the book or series for you. If you’re a naysayer who thinks what I write is romanticizing domestic violence and abuse, then please, please stop reading now. This book isn’t a guide to dysfunctional relationships, it’s fiction. My books are fantasy. This isn’t real life. It’s a romance novel and should be read as such. We all know, in the real world, throwing a woman over your shoulder, messing with her birth control, or stalking her and letting yourself into her home is a one-way ticket to either a restraining order or the mental hospital. But I’d like to think that in fiction it’s okay to agree that these things are incredibly sexy. Please do not kink-shame me or my enthusiastic readers for finding these extreme alphahole behaviors hot. Maybe if you read this book with the pinch of romantic salt it was intended to come with, you might like it, too. Please heed this warning: My books will make you question your feminism, so I suggest you leave it at the door while you live in the world of my creation for a little bit, then 1 CODY Holy fuck! It’s her. She’s tall and curvy—so fucking curvy. Her hair is bright orange, the same color as Missy’s, but it’s short and kind of adorable. She’s fucking gorgeous, with full, pouty lips, a tiny nose, and freckles. There are half a dozen earrings in each of her ears, a hoop in her nose, and bright tattoos coating the skin on her right arm. The cropped shirt she’s wearing is tight, hugging what appears to be fucking amazing boobs, and short enough that I can see the skin above the waistband of her jeans. Her thighs are thick and wrapped in denim that clings in all the best places, and her feet are clad in battered, red Doc Martens boots. She’s speaking, but I can’t hear her because I’m just so fucking shocked that she’s here. This is my woman. My woman. She’s nothing like I expected, but she’s so fucking hot. If she’d let me, I’d strip her naked and fill her with my cock right here, right now, with a fucking audience, because my dick is an iron spike in my pants from wanting her. “God, I’m sorry, I know I’m staring, it’s just you look so much like her; it’s kind of weird,” she says, her accent American but with a hint of softness and a lilt that I can’t quite place running beneath it. “Who do I look like?” Missy asks. Shit, she’s talking to Missy, and I realize the lilt in her accent is a hint of Irish. “Like our grandmother,” the woman says. “Our grandmother?” Oh, fuck, I know who this is. “Yes. I’m Betty McCormick, your sister.” Suddenly, everything makes sense. Why I’m so drawn to Missy, why I felt like I was connected to her, even though I never