Maple Kissed by the Mountain Man
His trees. His rules.
I only needed one perfect photo to win the prize money at the Maple Festival in Lone Mountain, Montana. That money would finally let me open my art shop. But of course, the most beautiful maple trees in the entire county belonged to a broody man who didn’t allow anyone on his land, or near his trees.
I pestered him like a yapping Yorkie at his heels until he finally agreed to let me photograph them.
Now I’m being maple kissed by a mountain man who wasn’t supposed to want me any more than I was supposed to want him.
Fall foliage had never been this much trouble. Or this much fun.
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