TEQUILA + YOUR BEST FRIEND + YOUR BEDROOM = UM. WHOOPSIE?
Don’t sleep with your best friend. Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful. I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. Except I can't forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes of tap-tap-squirt. Awkward. Embarrassing. And the new subject of a couple of dirty lucid dreams. But I have no intention of telling him what we did. Nothing good comes from telling your best friend he’s the worst guy you’ve ever slept with. Which makes the tequila on my birthday a very, very bad idea…
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestsellingNew AdultauthorEmma Hartdons 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.