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    Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance)
    Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance)
    Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance)
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance)

    By Mel Pate

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    About this ebook

    Dakota

    North Ridge is a small town in the middle of nowhere and the diner I work at isn't much.  But I made it my home.  The owners are now my family, my chosen family.

    Until just before closing, we're robbed, beaten, and lucky to be alive.

    The Brady Brothers are vicious, fresh out of prison, and have killed before.

    Thankfully, we survived.

    The next day, the owners call in the Denton brothers.  They own this town and the mountain they live on.

    Everyone says no one crosses them or the people they protect for fear of retribution.

    One look at Fallon, the eldest brother, when he steps inside the diner, and I know why.

    When our eyes lock, one thing is certain.  I'll never be the same again.

    He's dominant, exudes danger, and ignites a fire in me that can't be extinguished.

    I'm the woman others call proper. The woman who tells men to take a hike at every offer of a date or good time has now met a man who makes her weak in the knees. Me. Fallon. Passion ignites.

    Is that all it is? Or does this man want what I crave? Love, family, forever.

    This is a mountain man romance with instant desire and obsession, a possessive alpha, and a sassy, courageous female. Will they go up in flames or have the happy ever after that they both deserve?

    Claimed by Fallon is an 18+ MF mountain man romance with mature themes, profanity, and steam.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMel Pate
    Release dateJul 31, 2024
    ISBN9798227282781
    Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance)

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      Book preview

      Claimed By Fallon (A Mountain Man Romance) - Mel Pate

      Chapter 1

      Dakota

      My feet are aching as I reach for the coffeepot, refilling Fred’s coffee cup.  Cheryl comes walking towards the counter I’m standing behind with a grin, slapping a number down on the counter.  That’s three this week, she says with a broad grin.

      I shake my head and laugh at her.  You only have two nights off a week.  What are you doing taking a third number?

      She shrugs, walking past.  It’s a backup in case one of the others cancels.

      Cheryl is beautiful, with long blonde hair and an hourglass figure.  But she’s as wild as they come.  Since there’s nothing to do in North Ridge, she makes it a point to have a man lined up for her nights off at the diner for ‘her entertainment.’

      What are you going to do when two show up here or at your place and discover you are dating more than one?  Fred asks her with a smirk.

      Fred is in his 60s and owns the hardware store. He’s by far my favorite regular in the diner. Fred’s funny and likes to work the crossword puzzles while chatting with us waitresses until we close each night. He’s lonely. I know that feeling all too well.

      Cheryl swings around and flashes Fred a million-dollar smile with a raised brow.  Make it a party instead of a date.

      Poor Fred’s eyes go wide, and I burst with laughter, walking over to top off Doug’s coffee.  The local barber may pretend not to hear the conversation, but I know he doesn’t miss anything.  In his line of work, I doubt there’s anything he doesn’t know about the residents.

      In my day, a woman found a good man and settled down, had a family, Fred says over his coffee cup.  But I don’t miss his grin.

      Cheryl places both palms on the counter and tilts her head in contemplation.  Fred, if there was an ice cream shop here, would you taste the different flavors?

      He cocks a brow.  Sure.

      She nods with a broad smile.  That’s what I’m doing.  Sampling what’s on the menu.

      I nearly choke on air when I see his stunned expression.  If she was going for the shock factor, she nailed it.

      She stopped, tossing me a look over her shoulder, analyzing me for a minute.  If you’d say yes to the customers once in a while instead of being all proper, you’d be more fun to work with.

      I look down at my T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes.  I’m a waitress who’s tired, nearing the end of her shift. Tendrils of hair have worked their way out of my ponytail, with spots of who knows what kinds of food on my apron.  Proper doesn’t describe me.

      I look back at her cleaning off a table and shake my head, setting the coffeepot back in its spot to start cleaning up with her.

      I wasn’t talking about your clothes, you know, she says as I begin refilling the sugar, salt, and pepper on each table.  This isn’t the 1950s. Women own their sexuality now.

      I screw the lid back on the container I just filled, sitting it back in place.  Cheryl, if having fun with the truckers that come through here makes you happy, go for it.  That’s just not me.  I’m just worried that one day it will blow up on you when they all find out.

      I hear her heave a sigh, but she doesn’t reply.

      The diner doesn’t get any more customers after 8, so we’ll be ready to close up once the clock reaches 9. Lucy comes out of the kitchen looking tired. Go home. I’ll finish up tonight.

      She gives me an appreciative smile.  Lucy and Tom, our cook, own the diner, and most days, they’re here open to close.  At their age, I know it’s hard on them.

      I don’t want to leave you alone, she says, but I see the weariness in her eyes.

      It’s only 30 more minutes, and everything’s done.  Go on.  I pat her shoulder with a sad smile. 

      I’m used to it.  It’s the truth.  Since I was 16, it’s just been me.  Although since I moved here 6 months ago, Lucy and Tom have treated me like family.

      Go home and rest.  That man of yours will be home shortly, I say with a grin.

      Lucy smiles, looking towards the kitchen.  I’ve never seen two people more in love.  Even after all the years they’ve been married, you would think they were newlyweds the way they look at each other.

      I want that.  Maybe one day, my inner voice says.

      See you tomorrow, she says, yawning, walking back to the kitchen.  No doubt to kiss Tom before leaving out the back.

      I refill Fred’s coffee cup since he’s the last one here and begin wiping down the counter again.  I want a man in my life, but the ones that come through here.  I shake myself at the thought. 

      Plenty of travelers and truckers have hit on me.  They want in my jeans, but that’s not happening.  Tom had to let some of the regulars passing through know that I was off the menu and that they had better not touch me again without consent, or he’d have to deal with them.  None of them have smacked my butt or touched me since.

      I’m not interested in just jumping into bed with someone, and certainly not for my first time.  However, being attracted to strong alpha types presents a problem.  Most of them are assholes.  The sweet ones never interest me.

      Too bad I haven’t met anyone who’s caught my interest since moving here.

      I’m closing the kitchen, Tom calls out through the window to the kitchen.

      Ok, I say, glancing at the clock, seeing it’s 15 minutes until closing.

      A six-letter word for fragments ends in ‘s,’ Fred says, staring at his crossword book.

      I think for a minute before grinning.  Pieces.

      His head snaps up with a smile.  Smart and pretty.  Too bad I’m not 40 years younger.

      I laugh and shake my head.  He’s a sweetheart.  But we both know that no one will ever compare to his wife.  He’s just lonely since she passed.

      I do appreciate his company every night when things get quiet.

      I’m about to go to the bathroom when the roar of an engine gets my attention.  It’s not the sound of a semi coming from the lumberyard or gravel pit.  It’s a rumbling V-8, and it’s moving fast.

      We both turn towards the glass windows, watching the road, when a pickup comes screeching into the parking lot.  The lift kit and tires have it so high up

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