Love Done Write

By Amelia Foster

Reading every new book by H.R. Reve consumes twenty-four-year-old stylist Sydney Bordelon’s free time. After the latest installment, her inebriated self thinks emailing him—hiding behind username RedLace24—detailing the effect of his words on her libido is a good idea.

Being a forty-two-year-old English professor at a private university and writing erotica makes Harrison Winslow guard his identity closely, never interacting with fans. Until RedLace24.

Flirtatious emails and steamy sexting culminate in a weekend of hedonistic sex and surprising intimacy. Harrison struggles to keep the truth from Red, especially when she discloses her name and opens up to him, revealing that she’s an aspiring author.

When fate intervenes and his truth is exposed, Harrison must channel the romance of his alter ego if wants to retain the woman who excites his body and challenges his mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Feb 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781773399041

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2019 Amelia Foster

ISBN: 978-1-77339-904-1

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my double A team who are the reason I do everything.

To all the hashtags that light up my life:

My #RChat backbone of support, advice, handholding, and loving critiques. You girls made every second of this possible. I do solemnly swear to eliminate felt from my vocabulary. Well, mostly. Or try. Yes, I promise to try.

My #MDO lovelies Marit, Meka, and Evie who provide all the dirty pictures and inappropriate jokes a girl could ever want.

My #BoardmanBitches Hannah & Evie who have made putting ghost peppers, pirate bars, and kilts in the same sentence actually make sense.

And finally to Evie, the very best person I could ever ask for, thank you for understanding every worry and giving the tough love when I need it and unfailingly being in my corner. You will always be my person.

LOVE DONE WRITE

Amelia Foster

Copyright © 2019

Chapter One

Sydney

Da-ding!

Sydney closed her eyes and thanked every technological genius she could remember from the creator of the first computer to the brains behind her iPhone that alerts were a thing. Specifically, alerts for new emails. Specifically, alerts for new emails notifying her of new blog posts. And, most specifically, when those new blog posts were additions to the heart-racing, steamy, sexy tale by H.R. Reve.

Inhaling deeply in through her nose and exhaling out of her slightly opened mouth, she forced her shaking hands to make quick work of Mrs. Sullivan’s bimonthly appointment. Every other Thursday at three PM, she had her short, white hair washed and set. In a little under ten minutes, she managed to have the elderly woman comfortably seated beneath the red-tinted dryer.

Once the sole customer of the afternoon was deafened by the hot air, Sydney raced to her phone, cursing the zero point three seconds it took for the fingerprint recognition to unlock the device. Every Thursday afternoon, he updated his site and every Thursday, Sydney Bordelon waited impatiently for the latest installment. She normally timed her lunch break around the anxiously awaited sound, but he had been late today. Mrs. Sullivan was nice enough but definitely didn’t like to wait.

Sydney’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as her email popped up with the link. I’m gonna go tame the mane in the bathroom in case Lex decides to show up unannounced again. She rolled her eyes at Kelli, running a hand through her long, unruly chestnut curls.

Lexi, their boss and owner of the salon, had a strict policy forbidding stylists from so much as brushing their own hair while in front of customers. Just three weeks ago, she had been on the receiving end of a Lexi lecture when the owner had shown up unannounced and saw her simply rearranging her hair at one of the stations. For once, the ridiculous rule would work in her favor. She scurried into the back and locked the bathroom door before the bubble-blowing receptionist could even grunt an acknowledgment.

She pressed her finger against the cool glass of the screen and tapped her foot as the website loaded. Her gaze darted around the small lavender room and, as always, she wondered what in the ever-loving hell she was doing. The question lasted right up until the picture of the author popped onto her all-too-small screen.

Perhaps picture was an overstatement. The circular image simply contained a suit-clad forearm resting on one knee and half of a salt and pepper bearded jawline leading to lips far too plump to belong to any man.

And that was all. Her every fantasy for the last year had been centered around a portion of a man … and the hundreds of thousands of panty-soaking words that had oozed from his long—and sure to be capable—fingers. Also only partially visible in the picture.

She slid down the page, the temperature of her body already increasing with anticipation. And the knowledge Mr. H.R. Reve had been the only man to never let her down. Since she first discovered his works, she had been a rabid, obsessive fan, reading every book he created.

Jessica’s body was taut and firm, laid out on the bed before me. More tempting than the selection of pastries at the bakery this morning. And far more delicious. I licked my lips, intent on tasting every inch of her creamy, supple flesh.

Sydney whimpered in the back of her throat and leaned against the bathroom wall. She’d barely begun the story and her fingers itched to dive beneath the waistband of her stretchy black pants. A man she’d never met had more control over her body than any man she’d been with in her twenty-four years on the planet. Thanks to alcohol, a keen sense of self-awareness, and the invention of the IUD, that number was not insignificant.

I knelt between her legs, my fingertips trailing along her inner thighs. She reached for me, but I gave her a slow shake of my head. No, darling, tonight is for me. I pressed my lips to her right hip bone. For me to explore you. I moved and repeated my action on the opposite side. For me to pleasure you.

She lost the battle with her own self-control. Despite the knowledge that she was one thin wall and a curtained divider away from Kelli and Ms. Sullivan, Sydney’s sun-kissed bronze hand dove beneath her red lace thong. She wore the same pair each week. Unrealistically, she did it for him. As if he knew. As if it would tempt him a tenth as much as he tempted her.

I continued my languid discovery of the spots that made her moan, gasp, and cry out for more. If you will only give me one night, Jessica, I intend on making the most of it.

Sydney slid her index finger inside, coating it thoroughly before