Big Daddy

Trapped elevator. Check!
Sexy-as-heck lumberjack. Check!
The best d*mn orgasm a girl could ask for. Ding! Ding! Ding!!!

I can't get the man out of my mind.
His small town charm. That unbelievably built body.
Or the way he turned me on with just one look.

And apparently Mr. Perfect is actually my father's sworn enemy.
Just my luck.

Now it's time for me to put on my thinking cap...
Because I've got a two very enthusiastic lines on a pregnancy test staring at me in the face.



This is a FULLY standalone novel from my Mountain Men of Liberty series. This is Brody Callaghan's romance story and a small town, enemies to lovers, surprise pregnancy romance. Transport yourself into this charming and magical mountain town as we follow several rugged mountain men in their quests to find lasting love. Enjoy! I know I did!

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The elevator car jerked violently. It came to a complete stop, the onboard alarm blaring loudly over my head.

The decrescendo whir of the ventilation system knocked the breath from my lungs as the light-up buttons of the panel flickered and died. The air was immediately hot and sticky, and my heart thundered in my ear.

“Shit,” I hissed this time out loud.

“Well, this is inconvenient.”

I wasn’t alone in the elevator. I hadn’t yet had a good look at him, but from my peripherals, the guy stood at a little over six feet, and seemed to be dressed like a lumberjack.

While I had on my fitted Chanel dress, red-bottom stilettos, and my late mother’s string of elegant pearls, the man was in a pair of dark jeans and a white Henley, his red and black plaid jacket draped over his forearm.

Office chic versus lumberjack catalog.

I would have thought the juxtaposition amusing had I not been on the verge of a panic attack.

A curiosity grew within me to get a good look at his face. If I was going to be stuck in this elevator with a stranger, I should at least make an educated determination if he was a serial killer or a normal cat, but I was too distracted at this point to think of anything but the elevator.

Me. Small spaces. Suspended several feet up in the air by a cable that could snap at any moment.

It was a perfect concoction—my fear of heights and my fear of tight spaces. And to wrap everything up in a pretty little bow, I was also running severely late for several important meetings.

Now my head was spinning.

Great. Just great.

The guy pressed several of the buttons, all to no avail.

It was then a voice crackled over the elevator’s speakers.

“Hey, is everyone alright in there?” someone from security asked.

“We’re fine,” the man said.

If I wasn’t seconds away from hyperventilating, I would have appreciated the deepness of his voice. It was a low rumble that reminded me very much of the darker tones of a cello.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“There was some sort of power surge in the breaker room. The whole building’s shut down. Maintenance is on the way, but they’re caught up in traffic. Could be another hour or so.”

“An hour?” I rasped. The walls were closing in. This was an absolute nightmare.

“I think I need to…”

“Ma’am?” the guy said to me. “Are you okay—”

My knees buckled out from under me. Before I could fall on my ass and make a complete fool of myself, the man reached out and carefully grasped me by the elbows, guiding me down softly to the elevator floor.

I sat with my back against the wall, so lightheaded I thought my skull was about to float right off my neck.

“Take a deep breath,” he said calmly, crouched down in front of me. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just really hate tight spaces.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ma’am. I hate tight spaces, too.”

“Well, you’re handling it much better than I am.”