Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Straight Cut - Men of the Woods |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Dani Wyatt |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B087NWHW2F |
| Book Information: | |
I fell in love with her the second she pointed that rifle at my head. When she threatened to put a bullet between my eyes, I knew I had to have her. She reminds me of one of those animated princesses, with white-blond hair to her waist, curves that make it hard to walk straight and ice-blue eyes that told me…I’d found the one. I never thought much about why I waited...you know, the big ‘V’ sort of waited...but now I know. She will be my first. She will be my last. I will give her everything—and then a little more. Only, someone else is after what belongs to me and he’ll go to any lengths to take back what he believes is rightfully his. But he will have to go through me first. And that ain’t gonna happen. Author’s Note: This isn’t your standard issue, double V card romance. These two are fierce, independent and when this lumber-hunk throws her over his shoulder and carries her home, well…let’s just say in the heat of what happens next, all those V cards turn to ash. It’s safe, insta-hot, insta-love with all the sticky sweet happily ever after you expect. | |
| Books by Author: | Dani Wyatt |
1
Mathias
“Dude.” Marshall shakes his head on a deep laugh. “She’s a sure thing. Come on...your dick is begging you.”
Marshall has been my friend since my parents moved us to Walkerville when I was five years old. The day we met, I punched him. Hard.
That was the first day of kindergarten. He was laughing at my handmade clothes, as well my parents were standing there openly sobbing, waving goodbye to me like I was marching off to war instead of elementary school.
I know the punch hurt like fuck. I was big enough to take on kids three and four years older than me even back then.
Instead of crying, or getting pissed, Marshall laughed like it was the most fun he’d had since he popped out into the big wide world, and for whatever reason I couldn’t stay mad. I forgave him, and we’ve been friends ever since.
“Shut up, ass.” I grunt, keeping my eyes forward on the winding road down from the mountain where I live. “Just the idea you are thinking about my dick is wrong.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head as he eyes me back.
“True.” He raises a finger, pointing at nothing in particular. “But bro, just get fucking laid. You’re about as uptight as a turkey in November.”
I release a long sigh, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles crack.
“Can we talk about the wood? Or pretty much anything else? Or not talk at all, that’s even better.”
He lets out a laugh. “I thought we were talking about wood.” He snorts, running his hand down his face.
“Fuck off.”
“See what I mean? You’re a grouchy son-of-a-bitch. Eloise practically told me if you’d just show up at the party tonight, she’ll do whatever—”
“Jesus.” I snap, my fuse burning down quickly. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not dipping my wick in that. You and I have been friends a long time, ass, you know my deal. Why are you so up in my business about it? I wish I never told you.”
“I just want you to live a little. You’re either in your cabin, carving, or hunting for your precious burl wood ninety percent of the time. I’m your only friend. That’s fucking tragic, you know that? Dude, even your mom and dad are worried about you.”
“How do you know?”
“She messaged me on Facebook, saw the picture of you, me and Mason at the burl buyers swap meet deal last month.”
“Fuck, I told him not to post that fucking picture. I don’t want my face, name, any part of me online. I hate that shit. Fucking Facebook...”
“Well, too late. Your mom saw you, and then she messaged me. Said you’ve not been very...” He pauses and I look over, my jaw tight. “Communicative the last few months. Just said she’s worried, wondered what was going on. Asked if you were dating anyone.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I’m just saying.”
“I’ll call her tonight. Every time I talk to her she wants to know if I’m dating. She’s got grandbaby fever and if it’s not that, she’s begging me to come visit.” I sound pissy, but I love my parents. Honestly, I miss the fuck out of them.
They did well for themselves. When they moved up here, they scraped all the money they’d saved from their meager teacher’s salaries and bought a hundred acres. Built a little cabin and were pretty fucking self-sufficient. Life was lean for most of my younger years, but they were happy.
What I didn’t know, not until I hit my late teens was that they were shrewd investors. They didn’t care much for spending, but they had a nice investment portfolio and turned around and bought more and more land on the mountain and around Walkerville, the town they’d grown to love so much.
On my twenty-first birthday, they handed me a deed in my name. Three hundred-forty acres of my own, along with a nice chunk of change. Then, couple years ago when they got the wild hair idea to move to Palm Springs, they deeded the rest of their land to me—another three hundred or so acres around the mountain, and throughout the county.
He lets out a deeper, sardonic chuckle. “Yes, I can see you in Palm Springs. Your parents went from survivalist, cabin in the woods for forty years, to living high style in the desert.”
“Yeah, I wish I had siblings. Take the heat off me.”
The strangest part is this last week, I’ve had this need. Like a hunger or a thirst, but not like either. Something I’ve put away for so long, exchanged for the solitary life I always craved.
It’s a wanting, a beat in my chest, a twitch in my dick.
No, that’s a lie. It’s a full on, sixteen-year-old with his first Hustler hard on.
Granite rod, uncontrollable.