WESTON, COLORADO was a small ranch town with dusty streets, too many cowboy hats, and a main drag that had been built to replicate the Wild West. It was everything Treat remembered as he sat in his rental Lexus SUV on Main Street. The traffic he was stuck in was not at all typical, and it wasn’t until he crawled around the next curve and saw the balloons and banners above the road announcing the twenty-second annual Indie Film Festival that he realized what weekend it was. Damn. He had forgotten about the festival.
His cell phone rang, and he picked it up while he waited for the line of cars to turn off the main road toward the festival grounds.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me before you came out.”
Savannah. “Hi, honey. I miss you, too.”
“You big oaf.” She laughed. Savannah was a ballbusting entertainment attorney, but to Treat, she’d always be his baby sister. “I’m at the festival with a client. When will you get in?”
“I’m here now. I’m on Main.” He hadn’t moved an inch in five minutes.
“Yeah? Come to the festival and see me. I’ll call Dad and let him know. I’ll wait for you at the rear entrance.”
Even though his sister had issued an order rather than posed a request, Treat smiled. All he really wanted to do was to reach his father’s five-hundred-acre ranch just outside of town, but Treat knew that if he didn’t see Savannah right away, she’d be disappointed; and disappointing his siblings was something he strived not to do. His father’s words rang through his mind. Family knows no boundaries.
“You sure you can get away?” he asked, knowing there was nothing that would stop Savannah from making time for him.
“Who are you kidding? For you? Hell yes. Come in the back gate. I’ll wait there.”
“I’ll be there as soon as traffic allows. Hey, don’t forget to call Dad.” The thought of his father waiting for him worried Treat. After he ended the call with Savannah and waited through two more unbearably long traffic lights, he picked up his cell and called his father, just in case. He didn’t like to cause his father undue worry.
“Hey there, son.”
Hal’s slow, deep drawl tugged at Treat’s heart. God, he’d missed his father. “Dad, I’m here, but I’m gonna stop at the festival first, if you don’t mind.”
“Yup. Savannah called. Treat, spend some time with her. She misses you.”
His father was always looking out for them, and it warmed his heart to hear that things hadn’t changed. “See you soon, Dad.”
Chapter Two
MAX ARMSTRONG donned her most comfortable jeans and her usual festival T-shirt on opening day. Her boss—and owner of the Indie Film Festival—Chaz Crew had created so much buzz over the past few years that they were expecting a crowd of more than forty thousand attendees during the two-day festival. The festival grounds covered one hundred acres a few blocks from Main Street and boasted five new theaters. Also on the grounds were restaurants, gift shops, and a high-class hotel. Hotels in neighboring towns were booked a full year in advance of the festival.
Whether there were twenty or fifty thousand attendees, Max was ready. She was nothing if not efficient and supremely organized. She’d been organizing the festival sponsors and logistics for almost eight years, and there was nothing that could throw her off her game. At least that’s what Max always thought—until six months earlier, when she’d met Treat Braden at Chaz’s wedding.
Max had worked with Scarlet, Treat’s assistant, for months via telephone calls and e-mails, coordinating logistics for the double wedding he’d hosted at his Nassau resort for Chaz and Kaylie, and Treat’s cousin, Blake Carter, and his new wife Danica—Kaylie’s sister. She’d come to know Scarlet so well that Scarlet now recognized her by voice. But she hadn’t been prepared for meeting the six-foot-six darkly handsome god that was Treat Braden, with his seductive voice, and the way every inch of him screamed of adrenaline-pumping, heart-fluttering masculinity. He’d knocked her so far off-kilter that she’d lost her ability to speak, along with her mental faculties.
Now her stomach clenched just thinking about the way he took her hand in his and kissed the back of it with those warm, sensuous lips, or the way he’d looked at her as though she were the only woman in the room and then, in the next breath, had arrogantly blown her off. Who was he to judge her personal activities? Sure, she’d been in the same clothes she’d worn the night before, and yes, she’d been out on a date with one of his employees, but she was a single woman. She had every right to do whatever she wanted to do with whomever she wanted—without judgment. Why do I care what he thinks anyway? That awful look he gave her was in such stark contrast to the impeccable manners that he’d otherwise exuded; holding doors, thinking of the needs of her and his other guests before himself, taking extra steps to ensure that every little detail of his cousin’s wedding had been taken care of. Before that look, he’d paid full attention to every word she’d spoken, and the way his eyes trailed her every move did not go unnoticed. Her pulse sped up just thinking about it. Max couldn’t let those things sway her resolve. She’d been mistreated, demeaned, and judged by a previous boyfriend, and she swore she’d never go down that road again—not even for too-sexy-for-his-own-good Treat Braden. She’d tried to avoid him after that interaction, though she’d been far from successful. After Nassau, she’d walked away and never looked back. Well, maybe a few times, in the darkness of her bedroom, when it was only her and her sexual fantasies.
She’d learned her lesson. Max forced herself to fall right back into doing what she did best: focus on her work. And it had paid off. This year’s festival would be a huge success.
It was warmer than it should be in Weston that afternoon, with temps in the mid-sixties. She was glad she didn’t need her parka, as she had during other festivals where the weather had taken on a freakish Arctic chill. The afternoon films ran without a hitch, and so far, the celebrity speakers had made their appearances without any wardrobe malfunctions—a trick of the trade for gaining media exposure. Max ran a tight ship, and she was quick to nix any wayward thoughts that celebs might conjure up.
Max spoke into her earpiece as she drove over toward the rear gate. “Heading to the rear gate now. I’ll check on Dean.”
The ruckus between the celeb’s entourage and the media was already creating a shit-storm of confusion. Photographers surrounded Connor Dean’s limousine and the two accompanying SUVs. She should have known this might happen. Dean was a local celebrity actor turned millionaire, whose reputation had exploded since they’d booked him eight months earlier. She’d been wrong to think the Hulk-like security guards could manage a little drama. As she neared the scene, she rolled down her window and surveyed the ensuing nightmare. Shouts and threats were tossed around like candy to children, and no one was making any headway. What on earth is that woman doing with her body halfway out of the limo?
Max parked right in front of the first SUV, threw open her door, and stepped from the car. She’d hoped to create a long enough pause to get the crowd’s attention, and when that didn’t work, she moved to Plan B. What is that woman in the limo shouting—legal jargon? Max groaned as she climbed onto the roof of her car and raised her hands in the air. With a quick flip of a switch on the control panel on her belt, she flicked on the intercom mounted above the gate.
TREAT PULLED up to the back gate behind a mass of media surrounding a number of cars. He rolled down his window and was met with too many shouts to decipher. It was obvious that no one was going anywhere anytime soon. He pulled into the parking lot outside the fence and decided he’d run in, say hello to Savannah, and tell her he’d catch up with her later at their father’s ranch. The last thing he needed was to deal with this type of headache.
He heard Savannah’s voice and swiftly scanned the crowd. If anyone touches her I’ll— Savannah was standing with her body out of the limousine’s moonroof, shouting God knew what as the media peppered her client with questions. Connor Dean, Savannah’s client, was an actor
who was quickly climbing the ranks of fame. Savannah had been his attorney for two years, and whenever he had a public engagement, he brought her along. It wasn’t a typical attorney-client relationship, but for all of Connor’s bravado, he’d been slandered one too many times. Savannah kept track of what was and wasn’t said at most events—by both Connor and the media.
Treat couldn’t see Connor Dean, but by the way the media swarmed the limo, he assumed Connor was inside fielding questions from behind the slightly open tinted window.
Treat leaned against the entrance to the gate, crossed one foot over the other, and watched his little sister in action. Her long auburn hair looked like fire against her narrowed, serious green eyes. She was the only one to have their mom’s coloring—and their mother’s spitfire spirit also came with the genes. He and his brothers were all dark, like their father.
Savannah glanced up and their eyes caught. Her scowl morphed into a warm smile as she scrambled onto the roof of the limo.
Treat pushed away from the fence and headed in full protective mode toward his sister. She might be mouthy, but she could be easily injured by those media animals as they pushed their way forward.
“Treat!” Savannah called.
Treat moved into the crowd, parting the media like flies. His six-foot-six frame naturally commanded more space, and one look up usually sent smaller men scrambling away. The ones who remained, he gently persuaded with a cold, domineering stare—a stare he hadn’t needed to rely upon since Savannah was a teenager, when he and his brothers had spent countless hours keeping the horny boys away from their precious sister.
Treat reached up and caught Savannah as she jumped down. He spun her around and, as he set her on her feet, his eyes landed on a woman standing on a car in front of the limousine. His breath caught in his throat. Max.
End of Sneak Peek
To continue reading, please purchase
LOVERS AT HEART (The Bradens, Book One)
Please visit my website for
Complete list of LOVE IN BLOOM SERIES books
Characters from each series appear in future series
THE BRADENS
Lovers at Heart
Destined for Love
Friendship on Fire
Sea of Love
Bursting with Love
Hearts at Play
Taken by Love
Fated for Love
Romancing my Love
Flirting with Love
Dreaming of Love
Crashing into Love
Healed by Love
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Acknowledgments
It was such a joy to be back in Rex and Jade’s world and to catch up with our lovable Bradens! I’d like to thank my readers for pushing me to tell Rex and Jade’s wedding story sooner rather than later, and a big thank-you to Lynn Mullan and Kristen Weber for our brainstorming sessions.
We have many more Bradens to look forward to with the Peaceful Harbor and Pleasant Hills Braden love stories on the horizon. To keep up to date on my upcoming releases, please visit http://www.MelissaFoster.com and check out the Reader Goodies page. You can also follow me on Facebook to see pictures of our hunky heroes and sexy heroines and to hear about my latest projects.
I am indebted to my amazing team of editors and proofreaders, whose meticulous efforts help bring you the cleanest books possible. Thank you: Kristen Weber, Penina Lopez, Jenna Bagnini, Juliette Hill, Marlene Engel, and Lynn Mullan. Thank you, Natasha Brown, for the gorgeous cover.
And, of course, thank you to my husband, Les, for being my biggest inspiration of all. My true-life hunky hero.
About Melissa Foster
Melissa Foster is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café, and when she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa also hosts Aspiring Authors contests for children and has painted and donated several murals to the Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC.
Visit Melissa on her website or chat with her on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups and welcomes an invitation to your event.
Melissa’s books are available through most online retailers in paperback and digital formats.
Lovers at Heart
Destined for Love
Friendship on Fire
Sea of Love
Bursting with Love
Hearts at Play
Deadly Obsession
Dedication
To my baby sister, Tricia, whose own love story was the basis for this book.
Thank you for your unconditional support, friendship, and love.
(And for giving me artistic license to radically change some things for the good of the story.)
I wish you and TJ a lifetime of love and happiness, Shorty.
Love you more than double fudge chocolate ice cream with dark chocolate shavings...
~ Me ~
Also to my amazing friend, KP, without whom this book would not make a lick of sense.
CHAPTER ONE
Three thousand four hundred and twenty-six.
That’s how many days of her life Trish Howell wasted with a man who broke up with her because he decided it was “for her own good.” She still couldn’t believe that after more than nine years of planning their lives together—marriage, children, big house away from the city where they’d host barbeques for their city-dwelling friends—Nick had ended it all in a single conversation.
It wasn’t as if their demise had been obvious with little disagreements escalating into bigger arguments. If they’d been fighting maybe it wouldn’t have felt like, after a decade of building a life together, he suddenly hit her over the head with a damn two-by-four.
As it happened, he’d kissed her in the morning before she headed off to her small yet thriving aesthetician business. After a long day at work, they’d enjoyed a nice dinner together then settled in to watch their favorite shows. But Nick must not have been in the mood for How I Met Your Mother that night, because instead of turning on the TV, he turned off their relationship.
There was no brief satellite interruptions, no blue screen while the system rebooted for another try, no customer service number to call for technical support.
It was just…off.
Now Trish’s once-successful life consisted of shacking up with her older sister Rhianna, her husband, and their two teenage kids in the dinky town she grew up in, while working as a waitress/bartender at Paddy’s, the local Irish pub. Insult, meet Injury.
Trish pulled the lever for the Guinness on tap and watched the dark liquid fill the glass in a daze. That’s how she’d moved through the world for the last two weeks since leaving her life behind in New York City. She only had two settings: dazed in public and broken in private.
Picking up her tray of drinks, she walked around the end of the bar and wound her way through the tables filled with Friday night customers to get to the six-top in the back corner. She dropped off their drinks and checked on her other tables before stopping at a four-top that had just swapped inhabitants.
“Evening, everyone,” she said, pulling out her notepad. “Can I start by getting you some drinks while you look over the menu?”
“Oh my goodness, is that little Trish Howell?”
Trish looked up in the direction of the feminine voice and barely stopped herself from wincing. “Hi, Mrs. Madsen, how are you?” Mrs. Madsen was a friend of the family. The kind who had chats with Trish’s mom after church, and once a year their families got together for a barbeque and pool party at the Madsen’s.
“Your mom told me about what happened with you and Nick, you poor thing, but I didn’t know you were moving back home.” Then to the three other ladies at the table Mrs. Madsen clarified, “I haven’t been to church the last couple of weeks. My hemorrhoids flared so badly I could barely sit, much less do it for an hour straight.” The women nodded and spilled words of empathy. Oh, goodie. As if life didn’t suck enough, now apparently Trish could look forward to bulging butt-veins when she got older. Mrs. Madsen turned her curious gaze to Trish. “I bet you’re glad to be back, aren’t you, dear?”
Trish did her best to lift the corners of her mouth into some semblance of a smile. “Words can’t express how it feels to be back, Mrs. Madsen.” Her crushed dreams and wounded pride said it all.
“You’re so sweet. Well, wait till I tell Henry you’re home and working here at Paddy’s...”
Trish tuned out the rest of Mrs. Madsen’s plans for filling her husband in on the town grapevine’s news of the prodigal daughter’s return. She focused on holding her tight smile and nodded every so often to continue the pretense of listening, then made an excuse about waiting customers and promised to be back shortly to take their order.
Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) Page 28
