Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Driving across the country in a skoolie, which is an old school bus I converted into my house on wheels.
It’s going great until I get deep into the Montana mountains when my bus decides not to bus anymore.
I’m stranded.
With no reception, nowhere to go, and with no one to help.
Days turn into weeks.
I’m living off the land and actually enjoying myself when he comes.
Naked, hot, and claiming I’m his.
He says I’m his mate.
I say he’s crazy.
But I can’t ignore the way my body reacts to that possessive look he gives me.
I can’t pretend I’m not drawn to him in a significant way.
And whenever he calls me his mate, it feels right.
Maybe this crazy grizzly bear shifter is onto something after all…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
It’s been a lifelong dream and I’m doing it.
Driving across the country in a skoolie, which is an old school bus I converted into my house on wheels.
It’s going great until I get deep into the Montana mountains when my bus decides not to bus anymore.
I’m stranded.
With no reception, nowhere to go, and with no one to help.
Days turn into weeks.
I’m living off the land and actually enjoying myself when he comes.
Naked, hot, and claiming I’m his.
He says I’m his mate.
I say he’s crazy.
But I can’t ignore the way my body reacts to that possessive look he gives me.
I can’t pretend I’m not drawn to him in a significant way.
And whenever he calls me his mate, it feels right.
Maybe this crazy grizzly bear shifter is onto something after all…
Three new standalone stories by best-selling steamy romance authors, Hope Ford, Olivia T. Turner, and Michele Mills. Get ready to be Marooned for a Night with some hot possessive men!
To my real-life mate.
Who I’m still not convinced isn’t a bear shifter with all the hair he leaves in the drain.
one
. . .
Jemma
“Are you fucking kidding me, Jemma?” my sister shouts as she storms across my grandmother’s farm in a black pantsuit, which looks wildly out of place beside the chickens and cows. Her ankle wobbles as her high heel sinks into the mud, but that just makes her angrier.
“A bus?” she shouts so loud it sends a chicken scurrying away. “A goddamn bus!?”
“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” I say as I look up at it with a smile.
“No!” she shrieks. “What are you doing? Are you having a nervous breakdown? Are you on drugs?”
She’s huffing out breaths as she stands in front of me with her fists digging into her hips. Carly could play a ball-busting lawyer on TV. Instead, she is one in real life.
“After years of work,” she says as she stares at me in disbelief. “Years of studying. The money, the sweat, the tears, you’re going to give it all up for this?!”
She looks at my big yellow bus in disgust.
“You’re on track to have a bigger career than me, than Malcolm, than Dad. Even Mom if you’re lucky. What are you doing?”
She doesn’t understand. She probably never will.
Carly has that lawyer DNA running through her veins. She got it from Mom and Dad. I didn’t.
“You just got made partner last summer!” she shrieks. “In the biggest law firm in New York City!”
“Yeah, and I’ve been miserable.”
“All partners are miserable! It’s part of the whole thing! That’s why you get paid an obscene amount of money!”
I just stand here and let her work out her frustrated energy. Carly has always been like that. She comes in hot and you just have to wait her out until she calms down and can talk normally.
She cringes as she looks me up and down for the first time. My brown hair is in a messy bun and I’m wearing a big bulky set of overalls I found in my deceased grandfather’s closet. I’m never putting on a pantsuit again.
“It’s not too late,” she says in a calmer voice. “I’m sure Gary will let you go back. You’ll have to regain their trust, but it’s doable.”
“I’m not going back,” I tell her in a firm tone. “I’m done.”
“What about your condo?”
“I sold it.”
“What?!”
Her mouth drops as she stares at me in horror. “You sold that beautiful condo, for… for this?”
The bus doesn’t look like much now, but when I’m done with it, it will have all I need.
I don’t know how it will turn out or where I’ll end up, but I know it won’t be back in New York City.
I had it all. The perfect condo with the perfect job. My clients were the who’s who of the city and I was making more in a month than most people make in a year.
And I hated it.
I come from a family of lawyers. My mother is the best lawyer in Chicago. My dad is probably in the top ten. My brother is a successful lawyer in Miami and my sister is killing it in Philadelphia. Growing up, I always wanted to be a lawyer too. It was all I wanted. All I worked for.
But once I achieved that dream, I started to wonder if it was my dream, or a dream that my parents implanted in my head. During every long meeting and late night, doubt started creeping in.
I barely slept. I was never in nature. I didn’t even have time to jog in Central Park.
All I did was work.
I stumbled across a girl online who had converted an old school bus into a home, or a skoolie as it’s called, and traveled around, staying in the most spectacular places. Pretty soon, my feed was full of bold adventurous people like that.
I realized that watching those videos was the only time I felt happy all day long.