Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
But, I had a very good reason to.
He was a lonely, neglected guard dog in an illegal chop shop, so I stole him and we went on the run.
We ended up in the Greene Mountains where we made a new life.
The dog was happy, I was happy, it was great.
But then our old life caught up to us…
The criminals came to claim what was theirs and to punish me in the process.
I had no choice but to go to the cops.
I was looking for some protection, but instead, I found a protector.
Emmanuel Rush.
The biggest, baddest, most protective mountain man I’d ever seen.
He’s exactly what I needed.
In more ways than one.
It only took one look for him to tell me I’m his.
That no one will ever hurt me again.
And it only took one look for me to believe him.
This mountain man cop comes fully loaded—broad shoulders, dirty thoughts, and zero chill when it comes to his girl. He doesn’t just protect and serve—he claims and devours.
Insta-love at its finest with no cheating and a super sweet HEA guaranteed. Enjoy!
***Hey fellow dog lovers! No dogs are hurt in this book and the dog gets a happily ever after too
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Lucy
I love this guy. He’s my ride-or-die.
His massive chest. His brown eyes. His protective nature.
I love the way he makes me feel when he looks at me—like I can’t do any wrong. Like I’m the love of his life. Like he’ll die before he lets anything bad happen to me.
I can do without the drooling though.
I’m flying down the highway in awe of all the beautiful mountains around us. Around every bend is another sweeping vista that takes your breath away. Cutter’s head is out the window, his ears flapping in the wind, his long streams of drool coating my faux leather seats behind him and making a mess.
I crank up the radio and he turns to me, those big brown eyes full of trust and love. I smile.
“You ever heard this song before?” I ask as he watches me pop a cherry Starburst into my mouth. “Sorry, you can’t have one. It’s not good for doggies. Noah Kahan. Stick Season. You like it?”
He turns back to the open window, indifferent to the amazing song blasting through the car speakers.
I try to focus on the nice lyrics and not the raging worry ripping through my stomach.
This is bad.
This is so bad.
I stole a dog.
Before you judge, hear me out. It’s not always a bad thing to steal a dog.
Some people have very good reasons for stealing dogs, thank you very much, and I’m one of them.
It all started eight months ago.
I got a job as a receptionist for a company that sells commercial and residential water pumps. Exciting, right? It was a pretty decent job, answering phones and coordinating workers to send them out on jobs. It was a bit boring, but it was fine.
The thing is, it wasn’t in the nicest part of town. My neighbor on the left was a gravel quarry and the neighbor on the right was a mechanic shop slash junkyard which I’m pretty sure was also an illegal chop shop.
Every time I walked by the chainlink fence to get to my office, their practically feral Rottweiler guard dog would come charging over, snarling and frothing at the mouth. He’d scare the crap out of me every single time. He’d leap on the fence and bark his terrifying head off, letting me know that if the fence wasn’t between us, he’d be eating me for dinner. The first time, I spilled hot coffee all over my chest, I was so startled. The second time, I dropped my papers into the dirt. The third, fourth, and every time after that, I ran, cringed, and prayed for that fence to hold back the canine onslaught while he snarled and assaulted it with everything he had.
I hated him. I began dreading the walk into work. Sometimes, it took ten minutes of deep breathing at my desk before my hands would stop shaking.
Three months went by like that.
And with every day that passed, he seemed to hate me more. I used to think he was hunting me for sport, popping out of different places with that vicious snarling, which I’m sure was scaring years off my life.
Then, one day, I had some extra steak left over from dinner and I got an idea.
As I was walking by the fence, I tossed it over when Cujo came running. He stopped and gobbled it up while I hurried inside.
I kept doing that every day. I’d buy him a nice juicy steak on the weekend, cook it up on Sunday night, and then cut it up for the week.
After a week of this, he no longer barked and attacked the fence when he saw me. After two weeks, he started running over and wagging his tail.