Bursting With Love

By: Melissa Foster

If looks could kill. One more drink. Then I’m out of here.

“Get us both another one. On me,” Tracie said, fluttering her false eyelashes.

On you? Right. Women like Tracie were made of hollow offers and a boatload of needs. Not that Hugh needed anyone to buy his drinks. He eyed his untouched beverage. Not very observant, are you? “No. I’m good.” He nodded at his full drink, wishing he could escape the booth and sit by himself—or maybe at a table where the cute brunette would take another order he wouldn’t drink.

“My pleasure,” Tracie said.

There’s that sex-hungry stare again. No way in hell.

“Thank you,” Hugh said, showing the manners his father, Hal Braden, an affluent thoroughbred horse breeder from Weston, Colorado, had instilled in him. With a bigger trust fund than he could ever spend, Hugh didn’t need women buying him drinks, but dealing with the wrath of a woman who felt put off would be worse. He could spare another half hour, have a drink, then politely excuse himself.

He watched Kat return to the bar and whisper to Bree. Even her name was appealing. She wiped the counter with a serious look in her eyes, served up drink after drink, and dodged a guy putting his hand on hers—“Behave, Chip,” she said with a shake of her head—all in a matter of seconds. She didn’t look at any of the men at the bar. In fact, she seemed to be purposely shifting her eyes to the counter every time a guy spoke to her. She was the only person in the bar not smiling—besides him—and Hugh wondered why.

He turned his attention back to Tracie, who was rattling on about Grey’s Anatomy. Hugh didn’t watch television, and after Tracie finished her next drink, he looked at his watch with a loud and purposeful groan.

“Well, Tracie, this has been nice, but I’m afraid I have to run. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for coming out to meet me. I appreciate it.”

She climbed from the booth. “I don’t have my car here. A friend dropped me off. Can you drive me home?”

Are you freaking kidding me?

Kat appeared by his side again. “Leaving already?” She glanced at the fifty-dollar bill he’d left on the table.

“I’m afraid so. It’s getting late,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

Red wrapped her arm around his, and Hugh noticed Kat’s eyes narrow.

“Right,” Kat said. She snagged the money from the table and stalked back to the bar.

As Hugh pushed the door open for Tracie to pass through, he noticed Kat and Bree watching them leave. He smiled—and this time it wasn’t forced. Kat waved. Bree turned away.

(End of Sneak Peek)


There are so many people to thank for their support, energy, enthusiasm, and inspiration, not the least of which are my readers. It’s difficult to convey how much your messages inspire me. I hope you continue to enjoy my stories, and please keep your letters and emails coming. I truly enjoy them. Chrissie Parker, thank you for giving me the Vintage Indian Chief (I love that sexy ride).

I am indebted to my team of editors and proofreaders: Kristen Weber, Penina Lopez, Jenna Bagnini, Juliette Hill, and Marlene Engel. I’m under no ill-conceived impressions that I could complete this process without each of you. Thank you for allowing me to work with you.

To my girlfriends—far and near—you have pulled me through intimate scenes, forehead-slapping frustrations, and days when I’ve been too tired to think straight, and you’ve done it with levity and grace. Thank you for always being there. You know who you are, and I appreciate you.

Natasha Brown, sis, as always, thank you for putting up with me and working with me to design the perfect cover for Bursting with Love. Rachelle Ayala, as always, your patience floors me. Thank you for expertly formatting my work—several times over.

To my World Literary Café volunteers, I couldn’t love you more, except if you brought more chocolate when you visited. And, of course, to my mother and my children, you are so kind to put up with my crazy schedule. Thank you for your support. Last but never least, thank you to my hunky husband, Les, who may or may not be my inspiration for my hunky heroes. He always wants to know, and I’ll never tell.

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