Get ready for Amy Daws upcoming release!
Coming Soon! #NineMonthContract ⛰🌲
Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography | Cover Model: Jack Atherton
Alternate Illustrated Edition | Cover Designer: Cat at TRC Designs
•••
— BLURB —
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.
•••
— TEASER —
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•••
— EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT —
Excerpt One
If this potential surrogate isn’t at least marginally impressed by the splendors of this dive bar, then she’s not fit to carry my baby, just like all the others I’ve met.
“Are you Trista?” I ask, my voice gruff.
“Yes,” the curvy woman chirps, her head snapping up like she’s been caught texting in class.
When our eyes connect, a rush of adrenaline surges through me—through my gut, specifically. I swallow the lump in my throat and reach my hand out to her. “Wyatt.”
Her hand is currently tucked deep inside her bag, so she offers me her opposite hand, making for a very awkward handshake. She rustles around with something that sounds like a wrapper in her bag and winces.
When we disconnect, her round eyes venture unabashedly down my body, her lips parting as she takes in my frame. The bag drops off her shoulder, and I hear a strange yip come from her before she begins coughing violently and whacking her chest.
“Excuse me,” she says, her voice gruff from the cough attack as she points at her throat and repositions the bag back on her shoulder. “I sucked some spit into the back of my throat, and it went down the wrong pipe.”
My brows furrow as I gesture to my table over by the stone fireplace. “Can I get you a drink?”
“A drink would be great,” she replies desperately, and I watch as she storms past me to the spot, carefully tucking her bag alongside the chair like she’s carrying a million dollars in cash.
I hesitantly take the seat across from her and gesture to Judy, who comes over in a hurry, likely sensing the awkwardness.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says, pointing at my beer with a wink. “Not knocked up yet, right?”
“Coming right up.” Judy shoots me a curious look and takes off for the bar. That’ll get the rumors flying.
“I heard you’ve interviewed a lot of candidates,” Trista offers, drumming her long fingers softly on the beat-up wood table.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” I reply with a huff. “And they always seem to feel like…”
“Like you’re picking out a livestock animal?” she offers with her brows arched.
My eyes widen at how she basically read my mind. “Bingo.”
•••
Excerpt Two
With renewed determination, I turn to face the grumpy mountain man and get right down to business. “As I mentioned, I’ve read a lot on the lesbian blogs.”
“Sorry?”
“The lesbian blogs…for how to get me knocked up without us actually having to roll in the hay. The lesbians know their shit.”
Wyatt looks taken aback. “Wouldn’t we use a fertility clinic with a donor egg? That’s usually the way these things go.”
“Is that what you want?”
He blinks back at me in confusion. “I’m not sure what I want matters.”
Beige-flag answer.
“Well, I can tell you from my research that if we do IVF and a donor egg, it will involve way more work on my part. We’re talking multiple trips per week to the clinic, daily intramuscular shots, bajingo suppositories—”
“What’s a bajingo?”
“My vagina, obviously,” I answer emphatically. “Not to mention oral medications, supplements, ultrasounds. Good God, the expense of that alone will be insane, especially because my health insurance does not cover fertility treatments. And most fertility clinics are booked out for months. So really, I think the farm way is best.”
“The farm way?” Wyatt looks like I’m speaking a foreign language. God, he’s cute when he’s flustered.
“You know…inseminate me like a cow.” I make a squeezing motion with my fingers. “Turkey baster style. You can buy the kits on Amazon. Or if you have like a children’s medicine syringe, that could work too. Like for kids’ Tylenol? Lots of ladies getting knocked up that way. Just pull the semen up into the syringe and shoot it up my bajingo. We would make sure it’s sanitary, of course.”
“Jesus.” Wyatt runs a hand through his hair and looks wildly uncomfortable. You’d think interviewing twelve women for this job would have made him less precious about all this by now.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t know you well enough to sleep with you. And I think it would feel kind of awkward afterward, don’t you? Especially if I’m going to live up here.”
“I wasn’t suggesting…” He stumbles over his words, and I have to admit, I love watching him squirm.
•••
— Nine Month Contract by Amy Daws —
Mountain Men Matchmaker (Book One)
Release Date: April 11, 2024
Genre: Small Town/ Rom-Com
📚 Add to your TBR: Goodreads
🎁 A chance to win a signed copy of Nine Month Contract!
•••
💐 Start the series now!
If you want to see where these brothers first appeared, check out Last on the List or binge the full Wait With Me Series while you wait for release day! Nine Month Contract is a spin off of Last on the List featuring the main character’s brothers!
•••
— ABOUT THE AUTHOR —
Amy Daws
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.
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