Yearning In The Mountains – Greene Mountain Boys Read Online Olivia T. Turner

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)

I thought I was in the right rental cabin. I thought this was my shower. I thought I could walk around the place naked. I was wrong. This is Duncan Dove’s cabin. The mean, reclusive mountain man. He finds me walking out of his shower in his place without a stitch of clothing on. And then I have the balls to yell at him . This possessive bearded alpha takes one look at me and I know that I’m not going anywhere. Wrong rental property or not, I’m staying here. And I’m not sure if he’ll ever let me leave. This city girl is about to have the vacation of a lifetime when she meets the only other person living on the mountain—a hot, obsessive, bearded mountain man who won’t let her go! Insta-love at its finest with no cheating and a super sweet HEA guaranteed. Enjoy!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One


“Where are you now?” my mother asks through my headphones while we video chat. I just called her and my dad from the back of my Uber.

“I just arrived in the Greene Mountains,” I tell them. “I’m heading to the rental cabin now.”

“It doesn’t look very sanitary,” my mother says as she scrunches her nose up and looks all around me. My dad lowers the Wall Street Journal and looks at the screen for the first time. “They didn’t have a limousine for you?”

“It’s the mountains, Mom, not Paris.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t go to Paris,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s Fashion Week.”

“I’ve been to Paris a hundred times,” I tell her as my dad goes back to his paper. “I’ve never been to the mountains.”

In fact, I’ve never really been in nature. My parents are all about cities. Milan, Tokyo, Montreal, Buenos Aires, Barcelona, Dubai—I’ve been to them all. My family vacations growing up were all about luxury, socialites, and concrete. I never saw a tree unless it was growing out of a sidewalk.

Once, I asked my parents if we could go camping instead of flying to London for a week. My mother scoffed and said that camping is for people with no taste.

“Or no money,” my father added.

London was amazing, so were all of the other vacations (I’m not complaining), but there was something about the wild mountains that intrigued me. Sometimes, during stressful times at work, I find myself staring at the mountainous photos on my screensaver and wondering what if…

What if I gave up the fashion empire I started in Manhattan and moved out here for good?

But then the phone rings or Martin barges into my office with the crisis of the hour and the thought disappears as quickly as it came.

“We took you to Zurich that one time for the Holidays,” my mother says, looking offended. “Remember, Jack? We rented that chalet with the broken hot tub and that slovenly property manager was such a jerk about it.”

“I remember,” my father mumbles as he reads.

That’s not quite the way I remember it, but whatever. My mom was such a bitch to the guy and expected him to come fix it immediately even though it was Christmas Eve.

“It’s not too late to turn back and fly somewhere reasonable,” my mother says. “You’re too pretty to be eaten by a bear. Don’t you agree, Jack?”

“Much too pretty,” Dad mumbles.

I sigh as I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“You’re breaking up,” I lie. “I better go.”

“The reception here is fine,” she says. “Why don’t you jet over to Cabo San Lucas if you need some mountains? You can rent a villa on the—“

I hit the little red X on my screen and my parents disappear.

I need a break from them as much as I need a break from work. We live in the same building on the same floor.

I don’t remember ever giving my mother a key to my place, but she has one and she uses it daily. She’s always popping over. Always commenting, criticizing, driving me crazy. I can’t take it anymore.

I would never have chosen to live in the same city, let alone the same building as her, but when I told them I was moving out, they rented an apartment on the same floor as them without telling me. It was a big surprise.

Surprise! You’re never getting away from us!

What was I supposed to do? Give up an amazing fully-paid apartment in Manhattan? I was starting a business and trying to save every cent I could. It would have been stupid and irresponsible to turn it down, so I didn’t.

And I’ve been regretting it ever since.

“First time in Montana?” the Uber driver asks, breaking the silence. He’s an older man with long scraggly hair and an old ripped T-shirt so dirty that I would be ashamed to wear it while painting.

“Huh? Yeah. First time in the mountains.”

He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “When I pulled up, I thought you’d be staying at the Greene Mountain Lodge.”

“Why is that?”

“On account of the pretty clothes and fancy suitcases. It’s the most luxurious spot for miles.”

“Oh,” I say with a forced laugh. “I rented a nice place on Bearskin Mountain.”

“There ain’t no nice places on Bearskin Mountain, lady. Unless of course you’re staying with Duncan Dove, but he never has visitors.”

Now, I’m starting to get nervous.

I pull up the listing as he turns onto a dirt road. We’re surrounded by tall trees and thick vegetation. My back presses into the seat of his pickup truck as we start to drive up a steep incline.

“Here,” I say as I find the luxurious cabin and show it to him.

He stops the truck and looks at it for a long moment.

“That’s the address,” he says as he checks the GPS on his phone, “but I ain’t never heard of a place like that up here.”