My name is Carly Porter… And I’m really good at bad decisions.
How do I know this, exactly? Well, not including the time I accidentally bleached my eyebrows or sprained my ankle changing a lightbulb…
I had sex with my best friend’s brother.
Zeke Elliott has been a thorn in my side for eleven years. A very sexy, very tempting, very freaking annoying one. With big…hands.
And now my clitoris has a crush on the guy.
Seriously. I can’t look at him without my vagina performing accidental kegels. Which would be fine, but he’s Cain’s brother. I hate him. He’s off limits, right?
Anyone who calls herself the best friend of Brooke Barker is bound to be just as quirky and opinionated and have a brain-to-mouth filter that frequently malfunctions, and as endearing and hilarious as Carly’s verbal diarrhea may be, it also gets her into quite a bit of trouble of the frisky and mistake variety, especially when it comes to her best friend’s brother, Zeke Elliott.
For the past 11 years, Carly and Zeke have tolerated each other’s existence; because they’re polar opposites and don’t really get along that well, they’re more prone to give one another shit than sit down and watch a movie together and have a normal conversation.
But one night Carly gives into her sluttiness, losing her mind and indulging in a handsome and cocky jackass who now seems to be EVERYWHERE she is after their one night together that never happened, which irrevocably alters Carly’s life goals.
Emma Hart, once again, creates a highly entertaining as well as complex heroine who is crazy in all the best ways and would absolutely be a friend readers would want to have because as much of an asshole she can be, giving Brooke as much bullshit as possible, she always has Brooke’s back and willingly supports her and lends her an ear every time it’s needed and those qualities make Carly the best choice for a best friend.
Zeke is a bit of a wildcard because readers don’t know a lot about him besides the fact that his fiancée cheated on him, leaving him with immense insecurities when it comes to relationships and forcing him to live an unattached life because he doesn’t know how to trust again. But he does seem like the perfect match for Carly because the way they exchange barbs and the sexual tension that seems to constantly exist between them proves that they just might give each other what they need as long as they’re both willing to take a chance on their unexpected connection.
Emma Hart’s romantic comedies are playful, crazy, and down-right addictive because she expertly crafts stories with a perfect blend of steam, romance, and hilarity. Carly is just as crazy and stubborn as Brooke, which means readers never know what will come out of her mouth or what actions she’ll take that she’ll then regret and obsess over.
I’m thoroughly enjoying Emma Hart’s Barley Cross series; it’s addictive because readers never know what will come out of the heroines’ mouths and the antics they find themselves participating in are never dull or normal, which only adds to the amusement of each and every read!
4 Poison Apples
“Don’t blame me,” he says. “You’re easy to rile. You rise to the bait every time…Like a pretty little piranha.”
“Did you just—” I spin, the wet cloth in my hand, and stare at him.
He’s holding my cake. And he’s bitten into it. The frosting is on his nose.
I respond the only possible way. I throw the cloth I’m holding at his face. It’s a damn good shot, because it opens up mid-air and covers half his face, leaving one of his eyes uncovered.
Brooke coughs and looks away.
“Thanks.” Zeke wipes his face off with the cloth and chucks it back to me. “I needed that. The damn frosting gets everywhere.”
“My frosting,” I shoot at him, turning the tap back on. “My cupcake, my frosting, your karma.”
“You two are exhausting.” Brooke sighs, joining me at the sink. “You either need to be separated on a permanent basis, like three-year-olds, or just have sex.”
My stomach loop-the-loops. “Unless he comes with batteries, I’m not interested.”
“I don’t need batteries,” Zeke offers, his sexy grin now an even sexier smirk. “It’s pretty easy to keep going when you’re being prayed to mid-fuck.”
“Why? Because you’re a god?” Brooke asks dryly. “How original of you. That’s never been used by a guy in the history of ever.”
Well. In all fairness, I might have begged to a deity once or twice when we…Never mind.
Not thinking about that.
“Can we not talk about sex?” I look around the room.
“Why?” Cain grins. “Aren’t you getting any?”
I look him dead in the eye and say, “I don’t need any.”
Zeke snorts. “People always need sex, Carly.”
I turn my attention to him and raise my eyebrow. “No. People need oxygen and water and food. You don’t even need sex to make babies now. Your point is moot.”
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.