Read Wild at Heart (Walk on the Wild Side #1) for Free Online Page A

instead. And Onyx was an urban girl who got freaked out by city parks, who’d practically hyperventilated when she learned there was no cell phone reception at Wild Mountain. By now, Onyx had probably gotten herself eaten by a coyote, and they’d wind up filming the scene back behind the Ranger Station latrines.
    Judging by all the clattering and banging and shouting coming from outside, the tech crew truck had arrived with the cranes and dollies and lighting equipment, more elaborate stuff than any Amber Waves production had ever used, and she really needed to go out and be sure it was all in working order. A professional make-up artist was on her way too, and an on-location colorist so Amber could see the look of the final product more clearly while they were still actually filming.
    Damn it. Curling up in a ball just wasn’t an option.
    She had a movie to make. The most ambitious movie of her career. A movie she owed to the 41,457 people who’d funded her Kickstarter campaign, whose money she couldn’t even return since she’d already spent every cent on the crew and equipment and two stunning new ARRI Alexa cameras that Nick had spent the last four months slavering over. She’d maxed out all her credit cards, to boot. And taken out two big bank loans, both riding on the fact that she had money-generating stars as headliners. This film was make or break for her.
    Nick might be slime, but he was not going to break her.
    She sat up in bed, swung her legs over the side, got her feet on the floor. There, progress . She was tough, she was strong. She was going to win a flipping Oscar—for herself . Best Fucking Director, Best Fucking Picture. And Nick Turner could just...go fuck himself. Or whoever else he could find to fuck.
    She stood up. Went to the little cabin sink and splashed cold water on her face.
    Took a deep breath and stepped out the door into the sunlight.
    The clearing by the Ranger Station was a swarm of activity—black-t-shirted guys moving large metal crates around. A catering truck from Sunshine Raw Organics, which was one of Ruby Torres’ diva demands, so she could stay on her crazy Paleo diet, though thank God Ruby was paying for it herself. Oh, and two guys in dark sunglasses and suit jackets, with ear-pieces and wires disappearing down under their collars—Ruby’s private security detail, who went everywhere she did. Except while she was having sex with Nick Turner, apparently.
    Amber couldn’t resist just one little glance over to Nick’s cabin. The door was still closed tight. No doubt Nick was still in bed with their leading lady, treating her like a human blow-up doll.
    And Ruby Torres was probably smart enough not to expect anything more from Nick than that.
    Thankfully, Amber’s thoughts were cut short by the grinding sound of tires on the gravel road. An ancient, beat-up blue Volkswagen came rumbling down to park between Ruby Torres’ limo and the Head Ranger’s jeep.
    Jake Hultensaalt was here.
    Okay. Amber’s head was pounding and her heart felt like it was stuffed with lead shot, but she had to plaster a smile on her face like she had everything 100% under control. Jake was sacrificing mega-bucks to make this tiny little film with her, and she didn’t want him to regret it the moment he arrived.
    At least he wasn’t the diva type. Far from it. One of the biggest names in Hollywood, a man paid millions per film, able to afford a fleet of Maseratis if he wanted—and he famously drove a Bug that had belonged to his dad in San Francisco in the 1960s. And carried a toolbox with him so he could do his own repairs.
    The engine no sooner wheezed to a halt than Jake threw open the door and leapt out, six-feet-plus of world-famous muscle packed into a faded pair of Levi’s and a tight white t-shirt. Thick mane of chestnut hair, chiseled cheekbones, perfect razor stubble, a mega-watt smile. And those shoulders —Jesus. No wonder he brought in such big money at the box office.
    The man