Nine Month Contract
By Amy Daws
Release Date: April 11th
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: April 11th, 2024
Cover Designer: Cat at TRC Designs
Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography
Cover Model: Jack Atherton
We live by different rules on the mountain…
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BLURB
From Amazon #1 bestselling author Amy Daws, comes an all-new small town, spicy romance sure to hit you in the gut with laughs, feels, and mountain man grunts.
Help Wanted: Grumpy Mountain Man seeks baby momma. Job is an incubator position only. Surrogate must be impervious to grunting in the form of communication and nosey brotherly neighbors. Rustic mountain range housing available upon request.
I wanted to pummel my irritating brothers when they posted their own version of a wanted ad to help me with my life.
But I can’t fault the results once the right woman lands on my lap.
Becoming a single father is not a decision I made lightly. In fact, it’s the biggest decision of my entire life.
Which is why when I interview Trista, I know she’s perfect.
She’s wild, she’s opinionated, she wears cowboy boots. Even my pet goat loves her…
She’s the exact type of person I was holding out for.
And to my great horror, I realize on our first night of attempting this baby making dance…when the lights are low, the cheap wine is flowing, and the home insemination supplies are laid out on the kitchen counter…
I want to do a lot more than just make her my surrogate.
I want to make her mine.
EXCERPT
Excerpt #1
“Who is the pen for?” I ask, staring up at the giant mountain man.
“Your pig.”
My eyes widen. “You expect my Reginald to sleep in the barn?”
“Where else would he sleep?”
“In his sleeping quarters upstairs next to me, obviously.”
“Come again?” Wyatt is loud in the quietness of the peaceful barn.
“Reggie is a rescue, Wyatt! He came from a horrible situation where the owners neglected him. He had hoof rot and couldn’t freaking walk. I had to give him daily doses of antibiotics and hand-feed him, or they were going to put him down!”
“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt murmurs under his breath, looking away in obvious agitation.
“Sir Reginald sleeps on a nice little crib mattress I bought second-hand. He even has a special blanket and likes to sleep in most mornings.”
Wyatt’s head snaps to the open wooden stairs leading to the apartment. “How are you going to get him up the stairs every day? Those legs don’t look long enough to climb stairs.”
“I’ll carry him.” I shrug.
The mountain man’s eyebrows shoot to the moon as he points an accusing finger at Reggie. “He’s got to weigh at least fifty pounds.”
“Sixty-five, actually, but my vet friend just put us on a low-calorie feed even though I think Reggie is beautiful just the way he is.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Wyatt growls and jams a hand through the top of his hair. “You aren’t going to be able to carry him up those stairs when you’re pregnant, Trista.”
“Well, I’m not pregnant yet.” I scoff, my chin cocking up to meet his as he looms over me with his giant mountain-man stature.
He pauses for a second as his eyes rove over my face. His voice is deep and husky when he replies, “Yet.”
Goose bumps erupt over my flesh as one of the tiniest words in the English language just had a massive impact on my not-so-tiny body. I realize I’m a surrogate so we’re not doing this pregnancy thing the old-fashioned way, but it’s been a while since I’ve been laid, and with that one little word, my traitorous mind wandered to a reality where we did it the old-fashioned way. And I liked that thought.
I swallow slowly, desperate to get control of myself. I glance down at our chests, which are nearly brushing each other. When did we get so close? His scent of pine trees, woodchips, and hay is intoxicating.
Wyatt’s eyes flick down to my lips as I wonder what the hell are we actually arguing about? I want to be pregnant. And I suppose he’s right…I shouldn’t be lifting sixty-plus pounds once I have a baby growing inside me. I guess Reginald’s sleeping quarters never came up in all our lawyer negotiating.
And why is he looking at me like that? And why does my body feel the way it feels right now? I’m hot and agitated having him so close to me and telling me what to do. I like it, and I loathe it.
The voices of men outside force us to pull away from each other just as they walk into the barn with armloads of my stuff.
“Trista, these are my brothers Calder and Luke.” Wyatt’s voice is strained as he avoids eye contact with me. Oh, he’s mad mad.
The two giant men in flannel stop talking and gape at me for a moment. The heavily tattooed one with devilish eyes tips his chin up and says, “What’s up, MB?”
Wyatt glowers at his brother. “Calder…”
The slightly smaller one (although none of them are small, honestly…I’m in a barn full of flannelled giants) with floppy blond hair laughs boyishly, clearly enjoying the tension between his two brothers.
“What’s MB mean?” I ask curiously.
“Don’t ask,” another voice echoes from behind them.
Calder and Luke spread apart to reveal what I can only assume to be another brother.
“This is my eldest brother, Max,” Wyatt explains with a wave of his hand. “He doesn’t live up here on the mountain with us though.”
My brows lift knowingly. “Didn’t want to join in on the Seven Brides for Seven Brothers remake up here?”
Excerpt #2
“Since we’ve determined it’s not my face making you violently ill, maybe that means we can be more than just a surrogate and intended parent.” I gesture to her and then to me. “Maybe we can be friends?”
“Friends.” She repeats the word like she’s never said it before, her eyes roving over my face for a long moment before a soft smile lights up her eyes. “I guess we can try it.”
My brows lift in satisfaction at how easy that was for her to agree to. Then again, I’m pretty sure she’s dehydrated from morning sickness and probably doesn’t have her normal fight in her, but I’ll take the win.
“Well, as your new friend, I have to ask…did I see a rabbit in here earlier this morning?”
Trista’s eyes widen as she presses her lips together. Timidly, she reaches under the covers and pulls out an orange-and-white rabbit. She clutches it to her chest as her fingers stroke its floppy ears. “This is Strudel.”
“Come again?” I grind out, pulling away from her and the living fuzzball in her hands.
“She’s an English lop rabbit and was turned over at the rescue facility two days ago. Earl said she couldn’t stay there because they didn’t have the space.”
“What is she doing here?” I ask, shaking my head back and forth.
Trista smiles. “I thought she could live here with me?”
“You know how I feel about pets in the apartment.”
“I thought that was just pigs,” she says, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “But she’s too little to be down in the barn with Reginald, and she’s really well-behaved. She sleeps in a cage at night. And just feel how soft her fur is.”
“I do not—” My voice is cut off when Trista starts dragging the rabbit along my cheek. The warm little furball makes a weird squeaky noise as its coat catches on my beard.
“Soft, right?” Her eyes are bright and hopeful as she waits for my reaction.
“Can you please stop booping the rabbit on my nose?” I pull her arm away from my face. “I don’t want animals up here.”
She sighs heavily. “Fine, I’ll get rid of her.”
“Thank you.”
I stand to make my way toward the door and hear her say, “I’m sure someone will adopt her just to turn her into lucky rabbit-foot key chains. Lucky for them…not for poor Strudel.”
I pause, my eyes rolling to the ceiling.
“Or maybe they’ll turn her into a hearty rabbit stew,” she adds, her voice cracking. “Never mind that she was the only one who snuggled me when I was puking my guts out this week because of this precious baby inside me.”
I turn and eye her warily. “I know what you’re doing.”
Her nose wrinkles. “It’s fine. I don’t need that kind of comfort these next nine months. It wasn’t a part of the contract, and we’re not friends or anything, so…” Her voice trails off as she clutches the tiny animal to her cheek, dropping soft kisses on its long ears while hitting me with puppy dog eyes. My mind briefly flashes to the sight of a little girl with her eyes, begging me for a puppy.
The baby could have her eyes.
I drop my head and aggressively rub my hand over it, trying to put those thoughts well away. With a heavy sigh, I begrudgingly murmur, “Okay, friend, the rabbit can stay.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Number 1 Amazon Bestselling author Amy Daws writes spicy love stories that take place in America, as well as across the pond. She’s most known for her footy-playing Harris Brothers and writing in a tire shop waiting room. When Amy is not writing, she’s likely making charcuterie boards from her home in South Dakota where she lives with her daughter and husband.
Follow Amy on all social media channels, including Tik Tok under @amydawsauthor
For more of Amy’s work, visit: http://www.amydawsauthor.com
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