by Emma Hart
Book 3 in the Holly Wood Files series
Detective Drake Nash: hot, alpha, bossy, and… mine.
Now, if someone could tell his ex that... I don’t care if the summer fayre is coming to Holly Woods and she’s on the planning committee. What I do care about is sugar-filled food, bright lights, late nights… and danger. The type that won’t come in the form of Nonna’s new cantankerous British parrot, Gio. (Please see the damage done to Mom’s new curtains.)
Unfortunately, when the danger comes, it comes in the form of something Holly Woods has never seen. The town is rocked to its core, and once again, I’m in danger. Only this time, it isn’t because of my clients—this time, I’m in danger because of who I am… Because of my heritage. And despite the HWPD’s best efforts, the bodies keep on piling up. Drake’s determined to protect me. I’m determined that I can do it myself. Danger. Mystery. Darkness. Malice.
It’ll be a miracle if any of us make it out of this with guns unfired, cupcakes still frosted, and hearts intact…
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.
It’s better for my sanity if I get this conversation with Nonna over and done with.
Oh my fuck. I have to meet the parrot, too. Holy fuckballs. What if the colorful rat sides with her?
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it’s gonna side with Nonna.
Shit. Clearly, I can be swayed by the desperation of my future sister-in-law. I’ve really gotta get a handle on that crap. This should be Devin having this conversation, not me.
That thought hits right as I pull up behind Mom’s car on the drive. I take a deep breath, apprehension coiling in my lower stomach, and get out of my car. This feeling always hits whenever I get to my parents’ place, but today, it’s particularly strong. I know that Nonna will play the innocent card and make everything a lot harder.
I walk across the front yard, and a loud squawk rings in my ears. My heart stops for a brief second, and I bite my tongue. That thing is loud. How are Mom and Dad coping with that?
I knock on the front door twice before I push it open.
“Ye cruel wench! Ye vile wench! Cazzo! Cazzo!”
Nice to meet you, too, Gio.
“Hello,” I call hesitantly, closing the door behind me.
“Aye! Ye bloody wench!”
“Oh, shut up, you little shit!” Mom yells.
I walk into the front room in time to see her cover the offending bird’s cage with a bedsheet.
“Wench! Wench!” Gio squawks from beneath the black sheet.
Mom smacks the cage. “I’ll wench your beak real soon!”
Oy vey. Things have sure gotten violent in the Bond family home.
Nonna shuffles into the front room and, upon seeing Gio covered, gasps. “Kellie, you-a let-a him go-a!”
Mom snorts. “Believe me, Liliana. If I could imprison the little shit, I would! My curtains are ruined!”
I glance at the window. There’s a giant rip in one of the drapes. The ones she bought two weeks ago.
Nonna gasps and rushes across the room, her cane nothing more than a steadying tool. “Gio!” she exhales, whipping the sheet off. “You-a okay?”
The concern on her face is comical. Oh, Nonna.
“Vile wench! Vile wench!” Gio shrills, violently flapping his bright-green wings. “Kellie, ye vile wench!”
I squint. Doesn’t seem like Gio’s conversational skills are up to much unless he’s going to hop on the Black Pearl.
“Hello?” I try again, stepping fully into the front room.
Nonna is leaning forward, cooing at the parrot, and ignores me. Mom turns, her nostrils flaring.
“Nonna, do you know you can hear that thing halfway down the street?” I inquire.
“He is-a no thing,” Nonna murmurs. “He is-a Gio!”
Gio’s wings flap again, and Nonna stands. Two beady, black eyes focus on me, and it’s surprisingly uncomfortable. A high-pitched noise that sounds awfully like a whistle emits from the cage, and I blink harshly.
“Did he just—”
Gio interrupts me with a loud, unmistakable wolf whistle.
Holy shit. The parrot just wolf-whistled at me.
“Dinner’s cold,” I mumble against him.
“Don’t care.” The smile is gone, and there’s nothing but his kiss.
It consumes me. It always does. It’s like a hurricane and a tornado swirling inside me, washing through me like a tsunami. All sugar obsessions aside, I’ve never been truly addicted to anything.
If I had to pick one thing to be addicted to for the rest of my life, it’d be his kiss.
He grabs my thighs and hoists me onto the counter. I scream at the suddenness of the movement, and my hand hits my glass. It goes flying off the counter and lands on the floor with a smash, water and glass shards spreading across the floor.
Drake stills, stares at me for a second, then looks at the mess. His erection is pressing into my thigh, and I can see he’s weighing his options.
Clean or sex?
He wraps his arms around my waist and hauls me onto his shoulder.
Fuck. Holy fuck.
Instead of screaming, I laugh. I have no idea what else I’m supposed to do, really.
“And the mess?” I ask.
“You can clean it up later,” he answers, carrying me upstairs.
“That’s the first time you’ve ever left a mess anywhere.”
Unlike me. He’s the sponge to my dirt.
“What can I say?” He drops me onto his bed and leans over me, his eyes glinting devilishly in the lower light of his bedroom. “I’m stressed the fuck out, and if it’s between cleaning a smashed glass or being inside you, I know which one I’d rather pick.”
Heat coils in my lower stomach, settling into a throbbing ache I feel right through my pussy. I curl my fingers around the collar of his shirt and pull his face down to mine.
“Fine.” I pull his face down to mine. “But if you’re stressed, then we do it my way.”
He can’t say a word as I wrap my legs around his waist and use all of my strength to drag him over onto the bed. He laughs as I land on top of him, grinning, and straddle him.
“All right,” he agrees, sliding his hands up my legs. One stops on my butt, but the other trails all the way up my spine until his fingers are buried deep in my hair. He eases my face down to his and our lips come together easily, finding each other’s without as much as a second thought.
“Right,” I say, sitting up. “Roll over. Massage time.”
Drake stops. His cock is pushing right against my wet pussy through my panties, and I’m certain I’m flushed, but I do my best to keep a straight face. He yanks my dress up and his palm connects with my ass. I half gasp, half scream as he throws me off him, onto my back, and covers my body with his.
His eyes burn hotly, sending desire flooding through my body at lightning speed. His hands find mine, our fingers linking together, and he pins them above my head. I smile coyly, dragging my bottom lip between my teeth.
He says only three words.
“Fuck the massage.”
And fuck the massage he does.
His assault on my mouth is greedy. Every kiss is deeper and harder than the last, and I revel in each one. I didn’t know how much I needed him, how much he needed me, until right this second when the promise of each other is within touching distance.
The way he undresses us both is hurried, every item of clothing being thrown to a heap on the floor. Each touch we share is a blazing inferno that sets sparks flying across my skin, and the desperate way he plays my naked body until he teases my wet pussy with the head of his hard cock is almost cruel yet exciting.
When it gets to be too much, when I can’t take any more, I tilt my hips up.
He pushes inside me in one thrust, every single one of my nerves tingling in delight.
And he shows me exactly what he thinks of my fucking massage.
Twisted Bond (Holly Woods Files, #2):
I’m an Italian-Texan woman in a family full of cops. I’m passionate and shoot before I think. You only f*ck with me if you’re stupid.
Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.
That was my plan when I returned home to Holly Woods, Texas, and became a private investigator.
Finding the dead body in my dumpster? Yeah… Given the choice, I think I would have opted out of that little discovery, especially since all three of my brothers are cops. And my Italian grandmother is sure the reason I’m single is because of my job.
Of course, my connection to the victim is entirely coincidental. Until I’m hired by her husband to investigate her murder and shoved bang-smack into the path of Detective Drake Nash.
My nemesis, a persistent pain in my ass, and one hell of a sexy son of a bitch.
Shame he still holds a grudge from that time I shot him in the foot twelve years ago, or we could have something. In another life.
So now all I have to do is avoid my nonna’s blind dates, try not to blackmail my brothers into giving me confidential police files, and absolutely do not point my gun at Drake Nash. Or kiss him. Or jump his bones.
All while I hunt down the killer.
Sounds totally simple—until a second body proves that sometimes things that start as coincidences don’t always end up that way…
(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)
TANGLED BOND (Holly Woods Files, #2)
One date with the sexier-than-sin Detective Drake Nash. Simple.
Until you take into account that my brother finally proposed to his girlfriend, so Nonna is on a warpath—and the crazy old bat has Cupid by the balls.
The upcoming mayoral elections has everyone running on full speed, and while I couldn’t give any less craps about the corrupt Holly Woods mayor’s office, a dead body in the middle of a campaign speech has me thrown right into the middle of it. The victim is close to the mayor, but all he cares about is minimizing the damage to his campaign, so he hires me to work alongside Drake to close the case as quickly as possible.
Bad news for our tentative relationship.
We disagree far more than we agree, but being at loggerheads won’t get this murder solved… Or deal with the arrival of someone from his past.
The mysteries behind the murder aren’t the only things unraveling, and despite being knee-deep in lies and corruption and bonds so tangled they’re almost indecipherable, I have to figure out if I’m willing to fight for Drake the way I do justice…
Or if he’ll be my one who gets away.