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?
Oh my goodness, this book is a hilarious read from start to finish! It's been a while since I laughed the way I did reading all about Carly's dating disasters and just her life in general. This book is filled with plenty (and I mean plenty!) of sassy humor, snarky banter, sexy innuendo and more than one disastrous date. Hands down, for me the absolute most hilarious part was the whole scene of Grandma's birthday party; I promise you, I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe.
The non-relationship that is Carly and Zeke is filled with enough sexual tension to power the wind turbines in Nevada, yet Carly swears she hates him (although her body's reactions to him always tell a different story). Neither one of them lets their guard down around each other much, but when they do we get a glimpse of how happy they could be with each other once they finally pull their heads out and get themselves together on the same page; although it is understandable why Zeke is a bit hesitant, given how his last relationship ended. But my goodness, as much as Zeke can be cocky, when he turns on the charm, he really knows how to bring it and he becomes even more swoon-worthy.
The road to a HEA for Carly and Zeke doesn't happen quickly, but you will laugh a LOT at the antics and pitfalls that occur for them along the way.
The road to a HEA for Carly and Zeke doesn't happen quickly, but you will laugh a LOT at the antics and pitfalls that occur for them along the way.
EXCERPT
I
close my eyes and slip one leg out of the window.
Everybody
can see my panties.
Not
that anyone is here, but I just know everybody can.
This
is horrible. And it hurts.
I’m
never dating again.
I’m
going to buy fifty cats. They’ll never make me climb out of a bathroom window.
“You’re
looking at my underwear, aren’t you?” I ask, unfortunately pausing with my legs
wide open.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“It’s
nice underwear.”
“Oh
god.” I swing my other leg down a little too quick.
My
dress rides up.
Right
over my ass.
And
my feet can’t reach the crates.
Zeke
chuckles.
“Help
me, you pig!”
More
laughter.
“I’m
gonna be stuck here forever. Oh my god.”
The
bathroom door opens.
Can
this get any worse?
A
fifty-something woman I don’t recognize freezes in the middle of the restroom.
I
smile sweetly.
She
eyes me suspiciously before shuffling into a cubicle.
“Get
me down!” I hiss, kicking my legs. “Now, Ezekiel!”
Something
scrapes and knocks together.
“Still
so hot when you call me that. Especially when your ass is out.” Thud. “All right, sweetcheeks. I’ve got
you.”
“Sweetcheeks?
What is wrong with you?”
“Look,
you can hang there all night bitchin’ at me if you want, but it’s not my bare
ass in the middle of the alley. As much as I’m enjoying the view.”
“Oh
my god,” I groan. “You swear you’ll catch me?”
“I
swear.” His fingertips brush against my bare legs.
My
shudder is disguised by the trembling of my arms as I lower myself down.
Zeke’s
fingers trail up the outsides of my thighs until he grasps my waist. “Let go.”
I
freeze, tensing up.
“Carly,
let go. I have hold of you. I won’t drop you.”
Still
tensed, I let go of the window ledge.
My
life flashes before my eyes. Seriously. I see everything from my first memory
to the moment I let go of the ledge and I squeal because I’m going to die and I
know that he’s going to drop me and—
Zeke’s
strong grip solidifies when he wraps his arm around my waist and holds me
against him. “There,” he says calmly into my ear. “You dropped about six
inches. You’re hardly cliff-diving.”
I
open my eyes and look down at where his arm is pressed across my stomach. His
grip is tight, and the popping veins on his forearm trace tantalizing lines
across his skin.
And
my dress is still around my hips.
I
reach down and tug the material over my upper thighs. “Thank you.”
“You’re
welcome.” He releases me, and when he jumps down from the crates, I see a flash
of his cocky grin. “Nice thong.”
That
explains the grin.
I
clear my throat. “Thank you. It took me an hour to pick.”
“From
your drawer?”
“No.
From Victoria Secret. Have you seen how many panties are on that website?”
Zeke
holds his hands out for me to take. “Oh, yeah. I’m wearing a pair right now.”
My
lips curve slowly as I step down onto the ground. “Interesting. What type?
Brief? Thong? Boy short? V-string?”
He
blinks at me when I put my shoes on. “Why do you need so many different types?
It’d be much easier if you just wore none at all.”
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.
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