Love on the Tracks

Love on the Tracks

by Tamsen Parker

NOOK Book(eBook)

$3.99
Available on Compatible NOOK Devices and the free NOOK Apps.
Want a NOOK ? Explore Now

Overview

Love on the Tracks by Tamsen Parker

Welcome to the Snow and Ice Games where the competition is fierce and the romance is HOT in the new novel Love on the Tracks by USA Today bestselling Tamsen Parker.

Rowan Andrews is the unexpected darling of the Denver Snow and Ice Games. Luge has never captured the American public’s imagination as much as figure skating or even hockey, but her outsized personality and dare-devil ways have got everyone’s eyes glued to the track. Including a certain chart-topping heartthrob.

Zane Rivera is the lead singer of License to Game, the hottest band in the country. When Zane finds out Rowan Andrews has had some complimentary things to say about him, he arranges to meet her while he’s in Denver enjoying the games. And when a photo of him kissing Rowan on the cheek goes viral, they both see the advantages of faking a relationship for the publicity.

After Rowan’s injured in her final race, their relationship starts to feel all too real to Zane. But is this rock star ready to fall in love?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781250153401
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Publication date: 12/05/2017
Series: Snow & Ice Games , #1
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 250
Sales rank: 711,066
File size: 1 MB

About the Author

Tamsen Parker is a stay-at-home mom by day, USA Today bestselling erotic romance writer by naptime. Her novella CRAVING FLIGHT was named to the Best of 2015 lists of Heroes and Heartbreakers, Smexy Books, Romance Novel News, and Dear Author. Heroes and Heartbreakers called her Compass series “bewitching, humorous, erotically intense and emotional.” She lives with her family outside of Boston, where she tweets too much, sleeps too little and is always in the middle of a book. Aside from good food, sweet rieslings and gin cocktails, she has a fondness for monograms and subway maps. She should really start drinking coffee.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Rowan

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

Every time the erg snaps up to its starting point, I set myself again, pretending I'm at the starting gate at the top of the track, getting ready for a run. It's not quite the same movement, what with different shifting parts and no follow-through, but it's close enough to put me in the mind-set, to get me pumped up, to solidify my focus. My second time at the Snow and Ice Games, and I'm going to need to give everything I've got to make the podium here in Denver.

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

Like on the handles at the starting gate where I'll give the pull of my career, before paddling as though my life depends on it, and then sending myself hurtling down a frozen tube at speeds approaching ninety miles per hour. Laying supine on a tiny metal and fiberglass sled, contorting my body to be as aerodynamic as possible, making tiny shifts of my weight to hopefully lower my time by thousandths of a second. And, oh right, trying not to die in the process.

When I put it that way, luge sounds insane. Maybe it is, but at the end of the day, it's my life. I've spent years training for this, given up on the prospect of having a normal life in the slim hopes that I might slide down this mountain a fraction of a second faster than the next woman.

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

At least for this part of my training, I can have music. On the run, it's all the grinding clamor of the rough ice and, if it's a race, maybe some cowbell. But mostly it's the vibration and the clatter of two sharp steels slicing over the coarse surface of the track.

A luge track isn't like a hockey rink; there's no Zamboni burrito smoothing our way. Ask any slider who's lost contact with their sled — a.k.a. all of us at some undignified point or another — and they'll tell you that ice burn is more like running a frozen cheese grater over your face.

Here in the relative quiet of the gym, though, I can have music, and I do. I so do.

"Why the hell do you make us listen to this shit?"

Kate's my teammate, my roommate in the SIG village. The only people are allowed in are athletes and coaching staff, making it a haven — except from people who want to complain about my musical selections. Kate is my training partner and one of my best and only friends, and she's roughly my size, so we can trade clothes. But as much as we share, we do not share taste in music.

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

"How dare you call License to Game crap? They've been crushing the Top 40 lately, and their newest single is catchy as fuck. Admit it. I've seen you singing along."

"Only because you make me listen to it all the time, and it worms its way into my brain and won't leave. I know you think Zane Rivera's the second coming —"

"Ah! That is where I draw the line. Yes, I realize LtG is a boy band, and they're not musical trailblazers. Their music could even be described as derivative of ... well, all the other boy bands that came before them. But Zane Rivera is ..." I shift my hands on the bar of the erg, making a shitty-ass pull, but being able to do a dreamy finger-kiss is worth it. "Perfection."

Kate groans as I shift my hands back, and Travis snaps a towel toward her as he walks by with Aiden, his partner for the doubles event. "Yeah, Kate. Don't crap on Rowan's boyfriend."

I'm lucky my face is already beet red from exertion, otherwise the embarrassment-inspired flush creeping over my cheeks would be stomach-turningly obvious. All the same, I can't help myself from muttering under my breath, "He's not my boyfriend."

"Come on, you'd hit that if you had the chance."

I roll my eyes at Aiden's egging on, although yes, given the chance and he was game? I would bang Zane Rivera like a gong. He's divine, with his black hair, dark eyes, heavy brows, and lips that were made for sinning. Or really, singing, because despite LtG's music being bubblegum, verging on ridiculous tween-bait, the guy really does have a fine voice. Deep, smooth, and seductive, his voice is the only thing that makes me swoony. Otherwise, I'm a very practical girl. Have to be. No room in my life for sentiment, or romance. Just luge. Which I'm very adept at. The other stuff? Not so much.

Kate decides the boys haven't tormented me enough and piles on. "Yeah, but the closest Rowan's ever gotten to Zane Rivera is an autographed photo."

"That you got me for my birthday!"

Which, unbeknownst to Kate, I keep tucked under my mattress wherever I travel. Yes, it's juvenile and stupid, but when I'm having trouble sleeping, sometimes I pretend to talk to Zane — he's an exceptional listener, what with being two-dimensional and all — and it's calming. What is not calming is getting ragged on by my teammates, but all considered, it's not the worst way to blow off steam.

Besides, I have the remote for the stereo under my erg, and on my next glide, I snag it and turn up the music as loud as I can bear and sing at the top of my lungs while I pull, pull, pull.

Zane

Who knew banging your head against a concrete wall could be less painful than listening to four twentysomething dudes argue?

Teague's booming voice doesn't do anything to make listening less painful. "Nick, would you shut up already?"

This might be worse than when the band first formed — barely teenagers making what we thought was game-changing music that our parents probably recognized as an excuse to make noise, and lots of it. We fought all the time then, too, but mostly it was over who got the last bag of Cheetos. And fucking Teague, because he was bigger than all of us even then, would always snag it. Giant asshat.

"You've got an ear for hits like a tone-deaf tortoise!"

"Tortoises don't even have ears, shit-for-brains."

"My point exactly."

Thunk, thunk, my head meets the cinderblocks again. If only I could be a tortoise so I wouldn't have to hear my bandmates going at it once again. These days we don't write most of our own music, and you'd think that would take some of the pressure off. Really, it just makes the problems different, not gone.

It's times like these I get the urge to walk away from it all: the band, the money, the fans, our label. Everything. The thing is, though, these guys have been my life for the past ten years. As much as they drive me up a fucking wall, like Nicky and his constant need to be the center of attention — "Christian, would you put your goddamn sticks down and listen for a minute?" — they're also family. I owe everything I have to them, and walking away is not a possibility.

Even taking some space for something I want for myself isn't allowed. I think I'd be able to tolerate this crap if I had another basket to put some eggs in, but my label's been steadfast in its refusal to consider a side solo career. They're worried about it being, weirdly, too successful. Maybe in a few years when LtG isn't the name it is now, but at the moment? That idea's a nonstarter.

Not to mention that aside from the guys and my family, I don't have time or emotional energy to spend on anyone. Yeah, a post-concert hookup or a one-off evening with some starlet my agent sets up, but aside from that, I don't have the space for relationships.

So this is what I have. All I have.

Ignoring the din around me, I pick up the latest issue of Gold Plated, one of the celebrity gossip and fashion magazines. I don't know why Benji subscribes to this crap, but it never fails — the new issue's always on the ugly-ass wagon wheel coffee table that's been a fixture of our practice space since License to Game first became a thing.

While I wait for the fiery shitstorm of doom to burn itself out around me, I flip through the pages, seeing celebrities of varying types, many of whom one or more of us has slept with. Like her. And her. Or him. And oh god, the Martinelli twins. Why had Teague thought that was a good idea? He's usually the one of us with the best judgment ...

After a couple dozen pages of mind-numbing gossip, fashion tips for those of us who don't have stylists, and ads for stuff that somehow makes people feel like shit and want to crack open their wallets at the same time, I get to something worthwhile: a spread on the upcoming Snow and Ice Games.

Before the band had outgrown our childish aspirations and become a bona fide sensation, I'd liked playing sports. Had some delusions of grandeur about being able to play ball in college, delusions I've been able to hold onto since there's always the excuse of, "Well, I coulda, but I signed with a record label and made a shit ton of money singing other people's songs and dancing other people's dances."

While my bandmates tend to go after Hollywood fixtures, athletes are more my bag, and none more than the people who compete at the SIGs. Maybe a strange thing to be a turn-on, but not only is there a sick amount of hard work and dedication, but for three-plus years you're a goddamn nobody slaving away at some obscure sport, and then all of a sudden you're thrust into the spotlight and expected to know how to handle yourself in front of the media, all while gearing up for the biggest competition of your life. Between the delayed gratification and the being able to handle the extra shit suddenly heaped on their shoulders ... yeah, that's pretty hot. Not to mention their bodies. Jesus.

While my bandmates are still tearing each other apart, I slow down from my gossip-flipping to actually read the profiles of the athletes.

I'll tell you one person who hasn't got the handling the press part down, that downhill slalom phenom. Crash Delaney. "Crash" is right. If that kid's not careful, he's going to crash and burn. Too much of a wild card for my tastes. I'm sure a lot of people are rooting for him, because hey, American dream come true, but my money's on his teammate, the old man. Miles Palmer. I've got way more in common with that workhorse than I do with showboat Crash Delaney. I feel like I could have a beer with Miles while we told Crash and my bandmates to get off our respective lawns.

The rest of the profiles are a good distraction from the crap going on around me. I was looking forward to the SIGs before, and now I can't wait. I had planned to watch them at home, camped out on the couch, but wanderlust is hitting me hard. The urge to get the fuck out of Dodge because I am so over my bandmates' sniping and petty arguments is strong.

Maybe I could take some time, go out to Denver for a few days, see some stuff in person? Sure it's last minute, but there are a few perks of being famous. If nothing else, I could score a spot on one of music channels to do an interview, make my manager and my label happy.

I'd drag the rest of the crew along, too, but Christian doesn't like the cold, Teague couldn't care less about sports, and frankly I'd rather be alone for a few days.

The next page I flip to is a story on Rowan Andrews. Five-foot-seven and 145 pounds, the girl wouldn't look out of place in Valhalla. Viking blond and cut as hell, she looks like she could judge warriors, because she is a warrior. Learning about Valkyries in school, I always suspected they wouldn't just decide who lives or dies and then welcome their choices to the afterlife — at least some of them would sneak off to fight, and that would be Rowan. Yeah, there's a smile on her face, but it's of the "You want it? Come and take it" variety.

She's young — only twenty — but she's clearly got her shit together, at least as far as luge goes. I know what people who achieve big success early can be like from personal experience: kick-ass at one certain thing and kinda clueless when it comes to life in general. Don't know enough about Rowan to say if that applies or if I'm just projecting what I know about pop stars. It's her second SIGs, and if the hype is to be believed, she's medaling one way or another this year.

Even with all the shouting and arguing going on in the background, my stomach tightens. She's cute. I'm not sure everyone would think so because her features are strong, like the rest of her — sharp nose, square jaw. No way she's winning Miss America, but I'd take Rowan Andrews over one of those pageant princesses any day.

My fingertip absently traces the curve of her waist in her skin-tight uniform. What would she be like in person? In private? In bed? Get a grip, Rivera. The closest you're going to get to this girl is cheering her on from the side of the track. Her father's notoriously overprotective, and on cue, there's mention of him in her profile.

My mom died when I was ten and to distract me, my dad took me to a Luger Lookout, which is a youth search program for potential sliders. It was the one thing that took my mind off losing her, and I've been sliding ever since.

Well, maybe not the healthiest way to handle a loss, but can't blame them for trying. The rest of the interview is par for the course: she's grateful to be on the team, she's been working hard and is optimistic about her chances but the competition will be stiff, blah blah blah. The last question, as always, is prodding her to reveal something people may not know about her.

My guilty pleasure is listening to boy bands. It drives some of my teammates crazy in the weight room, but I love them. My favorite is License to Game — I've had a crush on their lead singer for basically as long as I've had crushes. Aside from medaling in Denver, probably the thing I'd like most is to meet Zane Rivera.

What the what?

I read it over and over again, charmed but also wary. This can't be a trick Benji or one of the other guys is playing on me, though — they know I'm a SIG junkie, but not the true extent of it. Besides, the magazine doesn't look as if it's been tampered with.

Rowan Andrews has a crush on me? The idea of her listening to me sing while she's working out is unexpectedly hot. Plus I like the idea that she does it despite her teammates' grumbling. I know our music's not some groundbreaking, intellectually stunning work of art or anything, but if it can get a SIG athlete through a tough workout? That's good enough for me.

I trace the outline of her torso and hip again, an idea forming in my mind. As my fingertip finds the fall of her blond hair over her shoulder, I make my call.

Fingers to my lips, I whistle loud and shrill, getting my bandmates' attention.

"Teague, you're right, it's not a great song —"

Our hulking bassist shoves a finger into Nicky's face. "Aha!"

"I'm not done yet. You're right that it's not a great song, but Nicky's right that it'll be a hit."

As expected, Nick vaults out of his seat on the beat-to-shit leather couch and goes right up to the four-inch-taller Teague, bumping his chest, or near as he can. "Booyah, bitch."

If the maturity level in this room could someday rise above eighth grade, I'd be forever thankful. Also shocked as hell, but still, grateful.

"The two of you, knock it off. We're going to put the song on our next album, it'll be the second single to drop and we'll make a shit ton of money off it, all right? We should also pick up that other thing Stanley was playing for us the other day. It won't be as big in radio play, but we'll get back some of the fans we lost on our last album. Unless anyone disagrees with me, that's what we're gonna do."

There are some grumbles around the room, but Teague puts Nicky into what I interpret as an apologetic headlock and gives him some noogies, Christian twirls his sticks, and Benji gives me a thumbs-up. Business as usual.

"All right. I'll call Stanley and let him know. But work's gonna have to wait a couple of weeks, because I've got somewhere I want to be."

CHAPTER 2

Rowan

Another day, another morning show. Green rooms like the one I'm sanding in are becoming all too familiar.

Smile, stay calm, say you're thrilled and grateful and you'll do your best to bring home the gold. That's all you need to do.

So far, the press has been great. I'm lucky they like me and, unlike some of my teammates, I've done this before. But sometimes I wish I could go back to the peace and quiet of my training days.

I'm fully aware most people wouldn't consider my routine — wake up at the asscrack of dawn to go for a five-mile training run, do school work for a few hours before heading to the weight room, meet with a nutritionist over lunch before heading out to the track to get some practice runs in, then have dinner and do more schoolwork — peace and quiet, but for me, that's how I live. That's what I'm good at.

(Continues…)



Excerpted from "Love on the Tracks"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Tamsen Parker.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews

Love on the Tracks 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Scorn9 12 months ago
Love on the Tracks is another top tier romance by Tamsen Parker that should not be missed! I'd hate to say it, but I love this book WAY more than The Compass series (and I was overly obsessed with that book). I didn't think Tamsen could make me love a book or series more than her original, but she did! This novel is a contemporary romance that follows a female sports star and a male pop star - something that makes so much sense, but I haven't seen much in the books I've read. Our leads, Rowan and Zane, are a perfect duo that I definitely want to see more of in the future. Our setting, The Snow and Ice Games, introduces us to a unique setting - competition, sports stadiums, Olympic tones, etc. Our antagonists are not bad guys, and are merely trying to do their best under what they think is the right thing. Every inch of this story feels more realistic than most romances I've torn through in the past few years. Positives: 1. Luge/Sports - I really liked the introduction of a sport that most people don't really think about on a day to day basis. 2. Strong Female Lead - Yes, India was an excellent character written by Tamsen but she had her faults (which is what made her so good, FYI) but Rowan is stronger, knows what she wants and has her head on straight (for now, anyways). 3. Lighthearted, Engaging Story - I enjoy a sweet novel that doesn't make you cringe at every turn. This book is so sweet, so simple, and an overall lovely story to make you feel good. 4. Respect - Also, if you haven't noticed many novels don't have the level of respect between the two leads like this book does. A+ for effort Tamsen!! Negatives: 1. Speed - I found some portions of this book was a little fast (no spoilers), but there are more books in the series to explore different issues among characters, competitions, etc. Overall, this book is a fantastic, romance read for all you romance enthusiasts! This book does not disappoint!!! Five out of five stars!
lenorewastaken More than 1 year ago
4.5 stars — Well this was a whole bowl full of awesome! It was kind of tailor made for me. I mean, I'm an Olympic FIEND. It’s my favourite sport. So a sports book that meshes a fictional Olympic competition (the Snow & Ice Games) with a celebrity romance, this time in the form of a famous pop star from a boy band? SIGN ME UP!!! And it was even cool that the athlete in this case was the heroine, AND she was a luger of all things! Have you watched luge? Those people are certifiable!! I actually loved both characters. They occasionally felt a bit young, but that can make for a more realistic NA in my opinion. I know I still feel young and immature at 38. And given their professions as it were, it made sense that they would feel young in certain aspects. I LOVED Rowan. She was nothing like I am. NOTHING. But I appreciated how unique she was, and how the author really showcased the dedication and hard work and sacrifices that is synonymous with amateur athletes. I LOVED how she was so blunt and forthright in what she wanted with sex…it was very sex positive in that way. I also appreciated that she didn’t go from fangirl to cool immediately, b/c it felt more realistic then. Sometimes I wanted her to more obviously see him as more than just a pop star…or rather, more quickly. But it was subtle, and it didn’t make the fangirl stuff immediately go away. It frustrated me, but again, felt more realistic. And more than what I loved about her, I LOVED how Zane saw her, and how he appreciated the things about her that she’s often been told are lacking. Like her athletic body was seen as less feminine by some (stupid) men, her strength was intimidating to others, not to mention her dedication to her sport. Which brings us to Zane. Zane was almost too good to be true. I’m not kidding. He’s this pop star, but he was so very down to earth, and just so freaking kind and thoughtful. He was like ultimate book boyfriend material for me. There was no bad boy to him. He felt very practical. I enjoyed seeing him struggle with being tired of the boy band, but still loyal to his boys. I liked reading about his exit strategy, and how he was thinking ahead to the future. And how he seemed truly torn up about wanting to move on. And I appreciated that he knew the importance of his fans and saw how they were truly responsible for all his success, so he wanted to appreciate them (even if it got exhausting). Occasionally the commentary about boy bands felt a bit…snarky, and was surprising. It almost felt as though the author looked down on boy bands and it bled through…but at other times it just felt normal. It was odd…and could all be in my head. And as I said above, I LOVED how he appreciated Rowan. He was so turned on by her aggression. Made me feel very tummy tingly. So needless to say I LOVED the chemistry between them. It was so freaking hot. Like the steamy parts were awesome, and different. And I felt the romance too…I felt the development of their relationship into more. I felt their caring for each other. I will admit the climax and conflict felt a bit tropey, but I appreciated that it didn’t last long and it wasn’t drawn out. I LOVED all the “SIG” descriptions, and seeing different sports showcased, and learning so much about luge. And I ADORED that they talked a bit about curling! So yeah. This took two of my favourite tropes (sports romance and celebromance) and blended them seamlessly and made this reader one very happy girl. Obscure sports 4tw!
Maria-Rose More than 1 year ago
As a fan of the winter Olympics, the idea of the Snow and Ice Games series is one that definitely appeals to me and I'm happy to say that this first in the series, Love on the Tracks, is a definite winner! Rowan Andrews is a twenty year old luger, with her heart set on getting a medal at this year's Snow and Ice Games (the SIGs). Her training inspiration is the music of Licence to Game, and she's the first to admit she has a crush on lead singer Zane Rivera. When she gets to meet him face to face, she is thrilled, and since it happens on morning TV, the positive publicity leads Zane's agent and Rowan's dad to come up with a plan to benefit them both – a 'dating' relationship to raise Zane's band's profile on social media and give Rowan some new sponsorship possibilities. Fake dating soon leads to real intimacy. But will the distraction cost Rowan a chance a medal? I really enjoyed this story! I loved the emphasis on the sport of luge (which I actually watch on TV) and the technical details that were interesting but not overwhelming. It's a very sex positive story, with consent coming from both sides and Rowan, while somewhat shy in public, definitely not being shy in private. She's always used the competitions as a chance to hookup and let off a little steam, but with Zane, the steam gets pretty intense! Zane is a very likable man, kind and generous. His goal is to eventually go solo, but for now he's got a good relationship with his band even as he spends time writing songs for himself. There are some lovely scenes where Rowan becomes instrumental to his music and it soon becomes clear to them both that their fake relationship could turn into a real one. Along with the romance we get some action packed competition scenes as Rowan goes for the gold. I won't give away the ending, except to say that Rowan and Zane do eventually get their happy ending (but not without some ups and downs) and I am excited to read the next in the series!