Cameron Hart, $2.99, ISBN 979-8215505304
Contemporary Romance, 2023

We are back to Podunk-a-duck, sorry, Bear’s Tooth in Cameron Hart’s Redeeming Her Mountain Man, where the mountain men in question live a suspiciously urbane lifestyle despite claiming to be a hairy hermit in the wilds and the women are more sassy than smart. Far more sassy than smart, that is.

All Gunnar, our hero, wants is to be left alone. Of course, he is managing a garage in his BFF’s absence, so I’m not sure how he’s going to be an isolated hermit or what not, and as I’ve mentioned, his entire shtick seems suspiciously like any generic wealthy boss man hero, only he’s living in Podunk-a-duck instead of a big city.

Gunnar’s angst is that, when he and sister were orphaned, the pressure of being the guardian of his sibling became too much for him and he had a blast of a party went through hell with drug, booze, sex, and more. All sober now. he’s determined to be the most responsible big brother to his sister.

Of course, since he can’t sleep with his sister even in this part of Podunk-a-duck, that won’t be fun. In comes our heroine Finley, a wounded waif with fragile constitution, big sad doe eyes, and big curves where it counts. In other words, here’s a woman he can play the chest-thumping alpha male to, and unlike his sister, she can put out to him without worries that they would be popping out brats to star in the next Wrong Turn sequel.

Finley, by the way, fancies herself the heroine of a new adult romance. Wait, is new adult still a thing? Anyway, behold her inner monologue:

Soft sheets. Warm bed. Smells like cedar and smoke.

I’m not thirsty. Not hungry. Not cold. Not running, running, running.

I’m not going to hurt you, he whispered. I believe him.

I just want to take care of you, he told me. I want that too.

He said I’m safe. He said I’m going to be okay.

Gunnar.

Blue eyes. Chocolate hair. Warm smile.

He’s beautiful.

I’m broken.

I haven’t spoken in months.

But somehow, he hears me.

My limbs are heavy. Eyelids heavy. But I can’t let sleep take me.

Only bad things wait for me on the other side.

Think of Gunnar.

Blue eyes.

Chocolate hair.

Warm smile.

The darkness claws at me.

I feel it.

I breathe it.

I become it.

No.

Think of Gunnar.

Blue eyes.

Chocolate hair…

I flicker in and out. One foot in hell, the other in heaven.

Gunnar.

Blue eyes…

The basement door slams. Heavy footsteps come down the stairs. Louder. Louder. Louder.

NO! Think of Gunnar.

It’s too late.

The dream takes over.

It drags me into the depths.

So deep.

Finger pressing against back of throat.

Sour taste.

Bile rising.

Here it comes!

Phew, my tummy feels better now.

Okay, where was I?

The rest of the story proceeds as expected. Finley is a Catherine Anderson-esque heroine that is programmed to think only in single sentences, and the story is narrated almost entirely from Gunnar’s point of view. He needs to find her! He needs to rescue her! He needs to protect her!

Finley’s pathetic waif antics wear thin on me really fast, and I can’t understand how this whole thing can be considered a healthy kind of love, unless I’m to assume that it’s a happily ever after because the heroine is never going to be capable of fleeing the hero even if she wants to. 

This is a one-note rescue fantasy without any nuance at all. The characters are also one-note, with Finley being the waifu pillow for Gunnar to play the knight in shining armor to, and their romance is more like one’s dysfunctional nature reinforcing the other’s.

Should either of them get therapy and gain some normalcy in the head, they will realize that they have absolutely nothing in common at all aside from she needing desperately to be rescued by him once upon a time.

In the end, the story is alright from a technical point of view, but I’m deducting one oogie out of spite since the author made me read those ghastly things that are supposed to Finley’s trains of thought. 

I have your daughter.

Long story short, pal, she’s damaged goods.

Tears. So many tears. Then back into the darkness.

But this time, the claws come out.

I feel them tearing at whatever peace I thought I found.

Damaged.

Ugly.

Broken.

Gunnar tried to send you back.

No one wants you.

Heavy footsteps down the stairs. Chains scrape against the concrete. This time it’s the belt.

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

“You disgusting whore!”

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

Ugh, such melodramatic drivel.

Also, I’m not into one-note romances that are hardly more than rescue fantasies in which the power dynamics are completely tilted toward the hero, so yes, two oogies sound just about right for this thing.