Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
She didn’t expect it to belong to her brother’s best friend.
Ellie James is backed into a corner—foreclosure on her chocolate shop, a controlling ex who won’t let go, and nowhere safe to run. So she makes the most reckless choice of her life: she accepts an offer of protection from a reclusive mountain firefighter who doesn’t ask questions… he gives orders.
Wyatt Cooper has three rules: stay on his land, do what he says, and pretend to be his wife.
It’s supposed to be temporary. A strategic ring. A fake marriage.
But the longer Ellie is trapped in Wyatt’s cabin—and the closer her stalker gets—the more she realizes the most dangerous thing on the mountain isn’t the man watching her…
It’s the man who’s decided she’s his.
🔥 Tropes: Mail-Order Bride • Best Friend’s Sister • Forced Proximity • Fake Marriage • Protective/ Possessive Hero • One Bed • Stalker Suspense • High-Heat Slow Burn • He Falls First
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Ellie
The bell over my shop door doesn’t ring.
That’s the first wrong thing. Not the foreclosure notice. Not the panic crawling up my throat.
“What the hell,” I whisper, leaning in. My breath fogs the glass. I can see my own reflection—messy bun, hoodie, leggings, the kind of outfit I wear when I’m planning to melt chocolate and pretend I have my life together.
I press my palm to the window and peer inside.
The lights are off, but the sun hits the copper kettles and the polished counter. My display case is there. The trays I set up last night. The chalkboard menu I rewrote because the “Devil’s Kiss” lettering wasn’t slanted enough.
Everything looks normal.
Except for the neon-orange paper taped dead center on the inside of the glass.
My stomach drops.
I bend, squint through the glare, and read the first line. My throat closes around it.
NOTICE OF DEFAULT.
I straighten too fast and nearly stumble. My coffee sloshes, hot liquid splashing my fingers, but I barely feel it.
No.
No, no, no.
I pull my phone out with hands that suddenly don’t work right and tap my banking app. It spins. Loads. Spins again.
Then a red banner flashes.
ACCOUNT RESTRICTED.
My ears start ringing.
I swipe through notifications. Missed emails. Missed calls. A voicemail timestamped last night.
I hit play and press the phone to my ear.
“Ms. James,” a man’s voice says, flat and official, like he’s reading off a script he uses to ruin people’s lives before lunch. “This is regarding your outstanding balance. The bank is exercising its rights under your agreement. Effective immediately, the property is in foreclosure proceedings. Do not attempt entry. You will be contacted with next steps.”
Beep.
My mouth goes dry.
Do not attempt entry.
My chest tightens like I’m being squeezed from the inside. I stare through the glass, at the counters, the shelves, the back room door. My inventory is in there. My paperwork. My receipts. My equipment.
My emergency bag is in there. My entire life is locked in the one bedroom studio apartment upstairs.
All of my clothes.
I just stepped away for coffee at The Devil’s Brew for twenty minutes and now I’m locked out of my life and livelihood.
I try the door again anyway, like the universe is going to remember who I am.
Locked.
I suck in a breath, forcing it down, forcing my face smooth because someone is walking past and I can feel their glance snag on the orange paper. Devil’s Peak is small enough that sympathy is a spectator sport.
My phone buzzes.
A text lights up the screen like a slap.
Graham:
Don’t make this ugly, Ellie. I tried to handle it quietly. You’re welcome.
My fingers curl around the phone until my knuckles ache.
Graham. Of course.
My ex-boyfriend. The banker. The man who smiled when he offered me the loan that made my dream possible and smiled again when he made it clear the dream belonged to him.
I type back before I can stop myself.
Me:
What did you do?
Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.
He takes his time. He always takes his time.
Graham:
I’m doing you a favor. You’re drowning. I’m throwing you a rope.
My jaw clenches so hard it hurts.
Me:
You changed the locks. That’s illegal.
Graham:
It’s not illegal when you signed your life away.
Heat crawls up my neck, into my cheeks.
Me:
This is because I left you.
Graham:
This is because you never learn. You could have had it all if you’d stopped pretending you didn’t need me.
I stare at that line until it blurs.
Because that’s what he’s really saying: come back.
Come beg.
Come let him decide what I deserve.
My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. I force myself to breathe, slow and controlled, like I’m standing over a chocolate pot and one wrong move will seize everything.
I can’t go to my family. That’s not a solution, it’s punishment. My mother will call this proof that I should’ve gone to college like my sister. My father will look at me like I’m a cautionary tale. They’ll wrap their disappointment around me and call it love.