Engaged to the Mountain Man Read Online Mia Brody

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)

Can this innocent princess convince the wild mountain man to claim her curves and his rightful throne?


Imagine the sexiest voice you’ve ever heard is on the other end of the phone. She’s calling to tell you that you’re a prince of some little country in Europe. She’s clearly lying, but that voice is the stuff fantasies are made of.

So, I played along with her little scam. Sure, princess, you can visit me. I’ll be waiting to pick you up at the airport. Five o’clock sharp. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Now imagine my surprise when the princess does show up at my mountain cabin. She’s madder than a wet cat. What’s more, she’s insisting that I’m her prince and we’re engaged. The joke’s on this scammer picked the wrong mountain man to play with. Because I sure as hell ain’t no prince.


Rafael is insufferable! He’s supposed to be a prince, my foot. The man looks like he’s never had so much as a haircut. He can’t possibly be my intended husband. If it weren’t for my cousin’s schemes, I wouldn’t be here convincing this wild mountain man to take his rightful place by my side.

But even after all the time we spend together and the delicious kisses he gives me, I’ll still have to choose between my duty and my heart. And I’m not sure which one will win.

If you love a growly alpha with a heart of gold who falls for a curvy princess, it’s time to meet Rafe in Engaged to 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*************



“I knew I’d find you here.” Violet clucks her tongue against her teeth.

I blink up from the ribbons and sewing supplies carefully arranged on the table across from my canvas. It seems like I’ve been painting for a few minutes but given the way Violet’s lips are drawing down, perhaps not. Perhaps it’s been much, much longer. I often lose track of time when I’m here.

“You’re meant to meet with the king at four o’clock,” she reminds me. She always calls Father the king, as if I might somehow forget his royal status. Or mine.

I set my paintbrush down and give the canvas one last look. It could be hours or days before I make it back into my secret hideaway in the dusty tower to work on my art. It’s the bane of every artist’s existence—that real life intrudes and keeps us from doing the one thing that makes our souls sing.

She takes me by the arm, the only one who touches me. Even Father’s bodyguards aren’t allowed to touch me.

I follow her down the old stone corridor. I shiver with a chill, but it has nothing to do with the cold stones beneath my feet. Sometimes, when I’m in certain parts of the castle, I feel them. The spirits of my ancestors, the ones who made noble sacrifices to ensure that my kingdom would continue to be free. For over one hundred and fifty years now, Velkan has known peace.

“Where are your shoes?” Violet chides as we move from the dimly lit corridor into the plush carpeting of the royals’ entrance. I suspect royals shouldn’t be allowed to get their feet cold.

“I lost them in the garden at the tea party.” I look down at my toes. They’re leaving dirt streaks on the thick, white carpet. But there is no time to stop and apologize to the maids that will turn the messy floor spotless again.

“How can you forget to wear shoes?” She sounds thoroughly exasperated with me, reminding me of my mom. She died when I was thirteen. Both Violet and I miss her terribly. Violet used to be her assistant and when she passed, I inherited her. The sixty-nine-year-old assistant is like a grandmother to me. She watches over me and arranges my days, making sure my hair and makeup are always appropriate for every occasion.

I don’t bother to explain to Violet that none of the other girls were wearing shoes. We took them off to walk barefoot and chase butterflies through the garden. The monthly tea party for underprivileged girls is the highlight of my carefully organized social calendar. It’s a chance to learn more about the people that the kingdom exists to serve, and I hold those moments close.

“Is Father in a good mood?” I whisper to her as she knocks on the door.

The slight twitch in her left eye is the only tell. It means he’s irritated today but no more than usual. Running a kingdom is serious business. He likes to remind me of that frequently.

When she’s granted permission, Violet reaches for the doorknob. I can’t remember the last time I touched a doorknob. Maybe not ever in my whole life. There are things that princesses don’t do. Things that others do for them.

Sometimes, late at night, I have these wild and crazy thoughts. Thoughts of running away and becoming a simple man’s wife. I’d live on his farm, and we’d work the land together. We’d have a dozen children and three dogs. We’d grow old, hands held as we sit on the porch swing every evening, and I would know freedom from this cage I’m in.

The moment the doors open, Father stands from his desk and gives me a once over. I pretend not to notice the way his lip pulls down in a disappointed frown. Seems I’m a perpetual disappointment to the man, the same way my mother was. They had a cold marriage, one that was on the best days emotionally distant. On the worst, it was cruel, filled with cutting remarks. I shiver to think that might be my future one day.

I hurry into the room. Father doesn’t like to be kept waiting. My purple dress swishes with every movement. It’s dotted with small paint spatters. After the tea party, I was itching to paint but I knew if I paused to change, Violet would quickly whisk me away to the next event on the day’s schedule.

I bow and offer him a warm smile. Twenty-one years and you’d think I’d have the common sense to stop trying for his affection. But some part of me is always hopeful that one day I’ll smile at him, and he’ll smile back.

He offers me no smile and rounds the large mahogany desk to move to the sitting area where a cart of tea is already set out. He looks pale again today, I note as he takes a chair. I’ve tried to figure out what’s going on but whenever I press Violet for news, she says nothing. Sometimes, all the things I’m not told gather in the pit of my stomach and form a ball of nerves so tight that it’s hard to eat or think or breathe.