The End
Please enjoy a preview of the next Love in Bloom novel
Lovers at Heart
The Bradens, Book One
Love in Bloom Series, Book Four
Melissa Foster
“Steamy sex scenes and heartfelt confessions.
A satisfying addition to the 'Love in Bloom' series.”
— Midwest Book Review
Chapter One
TREAT BRADEN didn’t usually charter planes. It wasn’t his style to flash his wealth. But tonight he needed to be anywhere but his Nassau, Bahamas, resort, and missing his commercial flight had just plain pissed him off. He owned upscale resorts all over the world, and he’d been featured on travel shows so many times that it turned his stomach to have to play those ridiculous media games. Most of the pomp and circumstance surrounding him had begun to irk him in ways that it never had before meeting Max Armstrong. It had been six months since he’d seen her standing in the lobby of his Nassau resort. Six months since his heart first thundered in a way that scared the shit out of him.
He’d tried to ignore her, but it seemed that everywhere Treat went, she was destined to appear. Treat wasn’t a Neanderthal. He knew he had no claim on her. Hell, he hadn’t even given her any indication that he was attracted to her. But that hadn’t stopped his blood from boiling when he’d seen her with Justin Barr, one of his employees, and it hadn’t stopped him from acting like a prick when he’d seen her the next morning standing in front of the elevators at his resort, wearing the same clothes she’d had on the night before.
Meeting Max had sent his heart and mind into a wind tunnel of regret. He was thirty-seven, and it was high time that he settled into life and cast away the fears he’d carried around his whole life due to his mother’s untimely death and his father’s grief. I’ll fall in love and she’ll be stolen away. I’ll be as heartbroken as Dad.
If he’d had to look at the lobby of the Nassau resort for one more second, he might have torn the place down. As the plane landed, Treat knew that getting away from resorts altogether and spending a weekend with his father at his ranch was just what he needed. Being with his family would center him, and Hal Braden had always been a calming influence on Treat. After his mother passed away, it was his father who pulled him and his five siblings through those tumultuous years. His father had constantly pounded a strong work ethic and sense of loyalty into his and his four brothers’ heads, and that had enabled them all to be successful in their careers. His younger sister, Savannah, however, was the most ruthless businessperson of them all. The thought of his gorgeous, albeit cutthroat, sister brought a smile to his lips. He’d have to remember to call her while he was in town.
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 two-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 fro
m 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: focusing 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 was touching her, he’d—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, be sure to pick up the next
LOVE IN BLOOM release:
LOVERS AT HEART, The Bradens, Book One
Love in Bloom Series, Book Four
“Contemporary romance at its hottest.
Each Braden sibling left me craving the next. Sensual, sexy, and satisfying.”
— Bestselling author, Keri Nola, Psychotherapist (on The Bradens)
LOVE IN BLOOM is a nine-book series. Check online retailers for availability
SNOW SISTERS
Sisters in Love
Sisters in Bloom
Sisters in White
THE BRADENS
Lovers at Heart
Destined for Love
Friendship on Fire
Sea of Love
Bursting with Love
Hearts at Play
Acknowledgments
The Snow Sisters series has been a joy to write, and not only will there be more Snow Sisters books, but you can follow Danica, Kaylie, Lacy, Max and their friends in the remaining six books under the Love in Bloom series umbrella, The Bradens.
I grew up with six brothers, and as the only girl my competitive nature drove me toward being able to do all that my brothers could do, rather than the more feminine things on which other young girls focused. Creating the Snow Sisters was a fun and interesting process, and I am indebted to all of my girlfriends for sharing their lives with me, through which I’ve learned—and parlayed into my writing—about friendship, sisters, and the differences in the way women and men approach life. There are so many friends who have become my sisters at heart, and instead of trying to name each of them, I’ll say this: You know who you are. When you read this, you’ll feel it in your heart, or maybe you’ll get that chill up your back that we laugh about, or perhaps you’ll remember when we talked on the phone and laughed, cried, screamed, or cursed. Or the emails we’ve shared, the Facebook messages, the quick tweets, or the handwritten notes. Yup, it’s you, sweetie, every one of you, and I love you all. And of course I cannot skip my brothers, because without each of you I would not have a clue about how to be a strong woman or how the minds of men work. I’m still a little confused there, but you each have helped tremendously. Thank you.
I cannot give enough praise and gratitude to my editors who have worked diligently to meet my crazy publication schedule and to help me make my writing the best it can be. Kristen Weber, Penina Lopez, and Jenna Bagnini, you are the best teachers, the most supportive and professional editors, and women for whomI have great respect. Thank you for all you do for me, and in turn, to my readers. I am honored to be under your tutelage and to have you on my team. Much gratitude goes to Juliette Hill and Marlene Engel for their proofreading expertise and willingness to scrutinize every printed word. I am also indebted to Rachelle Ayala, Regina Starace, and Natasha Brown for giving my work priority in their busy lives and for their formatting and cover expertise. Thank you.
No book finds its wings without strong support from the community, and I’d like to thank all of the bloggers, reviewers, and World Literary Café staff and members who have so generously supported my writing efforts. Your generosity does not go unnoticed.
Writing the Love in Bloom series in such an expedient fashion would not have been possible without the support of my husband. Les, you are my forever love, my inspiration, and my best friend. Here’s to getting old and gray and never admitting it to anyon
e. My kids have endured months of kissing me goodnight while I’m at my keyboard, and listening to me hash out story lines over dinner or on their rides to school, and my mother has learned to call after my “writing hours,” and although she hates it, she never complains. Kids, Mom, I adore you, I appreciate you, and I would not write with such strong emotion if it were not for each of you.
Last, but never least, my gratitude goes out to my readers. Thank you for picking up my stories and sharing them with your friends. Thank you for your emails and messages on social media. I hope you will continue to send them. You inspire me on a daily basis.
Melissa Foster is an award-winning, International bestselling 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 Women’s Nest, a social and support community for women, and the World Literary Café. When she's not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa 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 The Women's Nest or 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 on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and most online retailers
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