River of Love

by Melissa Foster

  Shannon’s return to Colorado has as much to do with the game of cat and mouse she and Steve have been playing as it does the data she’s been hired to collect. But despite her efforts to explore the undeniable heat simmering between them, Steve’s intent on keeping his distance.

  When a ranch abutting the national park goes up for sale, Steve will do whatever it takes to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. And when all his attempts fail, he’s left with no alternative but to follow Shannon’s guidance into the online world he abhors in order to raise the funds. The more time they spend together, the deeper their attraction becomes, and a game of cat and mouse turns into an unstoppable connection. But when Shannon’s assignment comes to an end, will it mean an end to them, too?

  Buy CRUSHING ON LOVE

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  Continue reading for excerpts from two of Melissa’s upcoming releases.

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  Have you met the REMINGTONS?

  TOUCHED BY LOVE (The Remingtons)

  Chapter One - Touched by Love

  Blaine’s mouth blazed a path up her inner thigh. His hot breath teased over her wet flesh. Kenya fisted her hands in the sheets, dug her heels into the mattress, and rocked her hips, aching for his talented tongue in the place she needed him most. Blaine lifted smoldering dark eyes, a hint of wickedness shining through, as his tongue slicked over his lips. He was a master at seduction, but Kenya didn’t give a shit about seduction. She wanted to be fucked hard. Now. She needed his—

  A large hand landed on Janie Jansen’s desk beside her braille device. She nearly jumped out of her skin and nervously yanked out her earbuds. Holy shit. She was supposed to be finishing a technical editing assignment, not listening to the latest hot romance audiobook.

  “Nice article in the newsletter this week, Jansen. The Oxford Comma Revolution. Catchy.” Her boss, Clay Bishop, was slightly less arid than a desert, but Janie didn’t mind. He’d hired her to work at Tech Ed Co, or TEC, on a trial basis, and four years later, her respect for him had only grown. He was a fair and equitable boss, and was currently considering her for a promotion.

  It was difficult to spice up a weekly column geared toward grammar and editing, but Janie tried. It was just one more step toward the promotion of technical writer she’d been vying for, a nice step up from editor.

  “You’re here late. Trouble with the ARKENS handbook?”

  “I’m just catching up on a few things. The handbook is almost done.” Well, technically not almost done, but she’d meet the deadline. She had yet to miss one. She loved editing, but she hadn’t set out to be an editor after college. She’d wanted to be a journalist, but that door had closed and she’d tabled her dream and settled for editing. Usually the intensity of her job didn’t get to her, but after weeks of grueling revisions on this particular medical equipment handbook, she’d needed a short mental break. But Clay would never think to take a break. He was all business all the time, even hours after their workday officially ended.

  “Perfect. Don’t forget, Monday afternoon we have the peer review of your writing sample. If that goes well, your promotion will be in the hands of the management team. I’m not worried—you’re always on top of your game.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Boyd Hudson’s amused voice brought a smile to Janie’s lips.

  Boyd consulted at TEC only a few days a month, and though Janie didn’t know him well, he was quippy and flirtatious, bringing a spark of amusement into her otherwise quiet days.

  “Hudson,” Clay said dryly. “Okay, well, it’s late, so…”

  “See you Monday, Clay.” Janie listened to his retreating footsteps and let out a relieved sigh.

  “He almost caught you again, didn’t he?”

  She heard the smirk in Boyd’s voice. “He didn’t catch me last time. I was on my lunch break last week. And besides, I was just studying the nuances of the romance genre.”

  “If by study you mean getting swept away in the sexy fantasy life of some fictional, ridiculously unattainable hero, then yeah, I’d buy that.”

  “Why do you trash the genre when you know it’s my favorite escape?” She began gathering her things to leave for the day.

  “Because it’s fun. You’re too smart to be a cliché, Janie. You know that, right? Girl who’s blind whiles away hours of her youth reading romances because her parents are too controlling. Grows up wanting a fictional life that can never exist. Break free from it.” His voice rose with excitement. “Let it go. Romance isn’t real. It’s crap writing about fake people.”

  She never should have revealed that tidbit about her parents in the break room last month. They’d been talking about their childhoods, and while others had fun stories of hanging out at the mall, or going on spur-of-the-moment outings with groups of friends, Janie had very few spur-of-the-moment anything to share. Her parents worried about every step she made, questioning her safety and whether this or that location would be difficult for her to navigate without them to hold her hand. They’d been a noose around her neck, and it had often been easier to escape into fictional worlds than to battle for the chance to go out.

  “And your sci-fi adventures are more real than romance? Ha!” She hefted her bag over her shoulder. “I bet you’ve never even read a romance.”

  “Don’t need to. It’s crap.”

  “It’s not crap. I bet I could write a romance that you’d not only read, but love.” Janie turned off her computer and braille device.

  “Not unless it’s got a heroine who likes sci-fi, is smarter than me, and is into kinky sex.”

  “God, you’re a pig. Fine, sci-fi and kinky sex. It shouldn’t be hard to make her smarter than you.” She lifted her brows with the tease. “But if I write it, you not only have to read every single page of it, but you also have to go to the Romance Writer’s Festival with me in October and stay all day. Plus,” she added, getting excited about the bet, “you have to buy me every romance book I want for a month.”

  He placed Janie’s cane in her hand. “A little greedy, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, if I’m writing a whole novel, it’s got to be worth it.”

  “Fine, but I’m not buying you romance books for a month.”

  “Whatever. Torturing you with the festival for an entire day will be worth it. It’s Friday night. What are you doing here so late?” It was after nine o’clock, and a group of people from work had gone down to NightCaps, a local bar where they often hung out.

  “Had a busy day before coming here,” Boyd answered.

  “Are you going to NightCaps, or are you going to while away the hours with your nose in outer space?” Janie loved the constant vibration of laughter, hushed whispers, and the hum of sexual tension at NightCaps, but her best friend, Kiki Vernon, was out of town, and she didn’t like to go to bars without her. She’d planned on spending a quiet weekend at home, but she assumed Boyd would want to go.

  “I’ve got a date, so I’m pretty sure my nose won’t be anywhere near space, but I’ll walk with you. I’m headed that way anyway. But first, shake on our bet.”

  “Game on, dude,” she said as she shook his hand. “And you’re so gonna owe me, but I’m not going to NightCaps. I was going to read, but now I think I’ll start plotting my romance. Hm. What should I call it? Sci-fi Sexiness?” She couldn’t wait to tell Kiki about the bet. She loved the genre as much as Janie did, and she’d get a kick out of Janie actually trying to write a sexy story.

  “That doesn’t even sound romantic,” Boyd said. “I’m going to win the bet, and when I do, you have to attend Comic Con with me. You’ll make a hot Catwoman.”

  Janie laughed. “Yeah, that’s so not going to happen. I’m writing this book and you’re going to spend an entire day meeting romance authors and male cover models.”

  Boyd hooked his arm in hers as she touched the tip of her cane to the ground.
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  “You know what that cane does to me,” he said in a seductively low voice.

  “I know what it’s going to do to you if you don’t stop teasing me.”

  As they left the office, the crisp night air rolled over Janie’s skin. The sounds of people walking by, cars moving along the road, and horns honking were familiar and comforting. The smell of exhaust tangled with what Janie had come to know as the dark scents of the city. Tension was thicker at night in New York City, as if everyone was shrouded with awareness. Janie felt that awareness prickling her skin.

  “Want me to flag down a cab?” Boyd asked.

  “No thanks. I hate riding in cabs here. The drivers petrify me. I like the subway better.” She’d ridden in cabs with Kiki when they’d first moved to the city after college, and the constant stopping and starting and traveling alone when someone else was in complete control of her end destination made her feel unsafe. Navigating the city alone presented enough of a challenge. She didn’t need to end up in some back alley with a cab-driving killer.

  “The subway? To each their own, I guess.”

  Janie’s phone rang as they made their way down the sidewalk.

  She stopped to dig it out of her bag. “Sorry. We can keep walking as long as you can guide me. It’s a little distracting to use my cane and talk on the phone.”

  Boyd placed a hand on her arm. “Sneaky way to get me to touch you.”

  Janie shook her head and answered the phone, immediately greeted by Kiki’s excited voice.

  “Hey, just wanted you to know that since you blew off coming home with me this weekend, I’m not going to tell you about the date I had last night.” Kiki had been her best friend since the third grade, when Kiki had put a boy in his place for teasing Janie about using a specially lighted magnifying device to read large-print books. Not that Janie needed protecting. Even back then she’d known some people were just too self-centered to care about other people’s lives. Not Kiki, though. As soon as she’d finished with the bully, she’d wanted to know everything about Janie’s eye condition: Cone-Rod Dystrophy, a degenerative eye disease. The disease had varying degrees of severity, from mild to complete loss of vision. So far Janie was lucky. She still had some light perception. If there were very bright lights, large planes of bright colors, or if the contrast was just right, and she looked out of her peripheral vision and got up super close, she could still sometimes make out shapes.

  “Was it your headboard I heard banging the wall at three in the morning?” She loved teasing Kiki about her sexual proclivities.

  “I wish. Anyway, when I come back, we’re having a girls’ night for sure,” Kiki said. “I need to touch up your roots, so we’ll do margaritas and hair dye. A great combination.” Ever since they were little, Kiki had insisted on helping Janie with all things girly, which included not only hair and makeup, but also clothing and manicures and anything else Kiki put into the girls must do category. Kiki was the only person who had ever not been afraid to jump into those personal aspects of Janie’s life, and Janie loved her even more for it because Kiki accepted and pushed and made sure that Janie missed out on nothing.

  “Last time we did drinks and dye you blonded me out, which is why I have roots.”

  “You’re a hot blonde,” Kiki said.

  “You also said I was a hot brunette. I gotta run. Have fun.” She ended the call.

  Boyd chuckled and said, “You’d be hot no matter what color your hair was. Careful stepping off the curb.”

  Janie was used to his flirty comments and knew better than to take them seriously. He doled them out in the office like she dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s, adding a touch of humor to their otherwise stoic workplace.

  “Curb, careful,” he said as she stepped back onto the sidewalk.

  She liked that he knew enough to warn her to the change in her footing. Not everyone did, which was why she continued to use her cane, especially if guided by someone she didn’t know very well. She knew they were nearing the subway and shifted her bag to her other shoulder, dropping her phone in the process.

  “I’ve got it.” Boyd stopped to pick it up. “So, you’re really going to try to write that novel?”

  “Darn right I am.” She resituated her cane and bag, and they continued walking.

  “You sure you want to take the subway?” Boyd asked again. “I’ll even pay for a cab if you’re worried about the money.”

  “It’s not the money. It’s the freakishly fast driving and then slamming on the brakes thing that New York cabbies do. I’m fine, really. Have fun on your date. I’ll see you the next time you’re at TEC.”

  Janie made her way down the steps to the subway, mentally playing with ideas for her romance story. At twenty-seven, she had only a few sexual experiences to draw from, although they’d never fully lived up to the sexual exploits of the heroes and heroines in the novels she’d read. She also knew absolutely nothing about sci-fi, or for that matter, kinky sex, other than what she’d read about. She might not have experience, but she was a master at research.

  The subway platform was eerily quiet. She tried to focus on the bet instead of the fact that every tap of her cane echoed in what she assumed was an empty station. She’d boarded trains alone plenty of times, but as much as other people feared strangers, in the subway, she relied on auditory cues from them. Tingles of anxiety prickled through her chest as the heels of her shoes echoed chillingly.

  She tapped her way to the bumpy strip along the edge of the platform, which was designed to let people who were visually impaired know they were nearing the edge. Her bag slid down her arm. She twisted sideways, trying to catch it. Her toe caught on a bump, sending her sprawling forward. In the space of a breath, her cane dropped through the air, and suddenly she was falling. Fear gripped her seconds before she landed on her right side with a painful thud. She sucked in air as pain spiraled through her. Something sharp dug into her cheek. Rocks? The pungent smell of grease and gasoline permeated the cold, dank air, and she realized she’d fallen off the platform.

  Her heart thundered in her chest, battling with the blood rushing through her ears as she frantically searched for her cane, listening for a train. Tears streamed from her eyes as fear consumed her. Get up. Get away from the tracks. Move. Move. Move. Finding her cane, she clutched it to her aching chest and pushed up to her knees. A blood-curdling pain shot through her ankle. Fighting light-headedness, she clenched her teeth together and forced herself upright, bending her right knee to keep from putting pressure on her ankle. She gripped the cold, hard edge of the platform and tried to pull herself up.

  “Help!” Her voice echoed in the empty station, magnifying her fear.

  Her ankle rolled on the rocks, sending her tumbling down to the ground again. Get up. Get up. Pushing past the pain, she rose again, determined to get to safety. Her fingers moved over the platform’s bumpy ridges that had tripped her up. Her fingertips grazed the smoother concrete just beyond. She used her left, uninjured foot for leverage as she pulled, pushed, and climbed her way onto the platform. Vibrations rumbled beneath her, and the sound of the train squealed in the distance. On the platform, she rolled onto her back, gasping for air and clutching her cane to her chest. The concrete vibrated as the train approached. Sobs wrenched from her lungs, and miraculously, she felt herself smile, because goddamn it, she wasn’t going to get run over by the stupid train.

  ~ To continue reading~

  Buy TOUCHED BY LOVE

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  Meet your naughtiest book boyfriend

  BAD BOYS AFTER DARK: MICK

  Chapter One - Bad Boys After Dark: Mick

  LURED BY THE pulse of sex and anonymity, Amanda Jenner moved through the dusky bar, brushing against silk, satin, cotton, and flesh, each graze feeding the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Blue lights misted over sweaty strangers lost in the seductive bump and grind of foreplay and hoping for a night of erotic pleasure. If Amanda tried hard enough, she could smell tomorrow’s scent
du jour—regret. Tonight she had no room for the confidence-crushing worry of what tomorrow would bring. She scanned the crowd, as she had in the previous three bars, immediately dismissing anyone who wasn’t in costume. Her world was full of boring men who excelled at wining, dining, and boring her to sleep. Ten years of romance novels and movies had led her astray, looking for the elusive needle in a haystack. She’d led herself astray, always the careful thinker, careful dresser. Or as her younger sister, Ally, would say, Careful kisser, careful lover. Ally, however, had taken charge of her sex life—and she’d found the perfect man.

  Now it’s my turn.

  Amanda was on the prowl, in search of a man who could wine and dine her, make her laugh, think, and feel—for one night. A man who not only knew how to get a woman off, but enjoyed doing it many times before taking his fill. If not for Ally, she wouldn’t have known guys like that existed in real life. But now that she did, she wanted one, and the masquerade bar crawl was the perfect venue for her solo coming-out party.

  Her eyes caught on the dark figure of a man, big and powerful, standing a few inches above the crowd. He leaned toward a woman wearing a slinky little black dress and a mask that covered her from nose to forehead, like Amanda’s. Amanda’s pulse quickened—for the broad, strapping, masked man, not for her competition. Like any good paralegal, she’d done her research, trading romance novels for The Handbook: Release Your Inner Temptress and stalking Internet sites for tips on flirting and taking charge of her sexuality. Then she’d practiced.

  Excessively.

  She’d spent weeks mentally role-playing her new vixen persona, using her boss, and secret crush of three years, as her prey. He was sex and sin all wrapped up in Armani and blessed with a beautifully smart brain—and off-limits. He never mixed business with pleasure, which made him the perfect fantasy playmate.