Emma Hart

Emma Hart – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:56 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Emma Hart – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 The Duke Who Saved Christmas Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/the-duke-who-saved-christmas-read-online-emma-hart Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:56 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-duke-who-saved-christmas-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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Sylvie Harding once swore that the only reason she’d ever return to Castleton was to plan her sister’s wedding… And here she is.

After eleven months of planning, the Christmas Eve wedding of her little sister’s dreams is only three weeks away, and professional wedding planner Sylvie is all hands-on deck from the moment she arrives home. Swept up in the magic that is Christmas in her hometown, the only thing that can possibly dampen her spirit is coming face to face with her childhood frenemy.

Thomas, the Duke of Castleton.

The man she spent her childhood feuding with thanks to an errant cricket ball is just as snarky, annoying, and gorgeous as she remembers. Despite running the village tree farm and his mother being the ringleader of all things Christmas in town, the past few years have turned him into a right little scrooge.

When a string of tragedies hit the wedding plans, Sylvie only has one person she can turn to: Thomas. Not that she has a choice—he has a habit of showing up exactly when she needs him to save the day, and she can’t stand it.

And when the ultimate disaster befalls the wedding just two days before the ceremony, Sylvie doesn’t see how it can go ahead.

But Thomas can.

And it just might be his chance to prove to Sylvie how he truly feels about her—and save Christmas at the same time

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE – SYLVIE

There was a pig in the middle of the road.

I was more surprised than I probably should have been, but in my defense, the pig was wearing reindeer antlers.

How they were in place, I didn’t know. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how such a momentous feat was occurring, but it was a stark reminder of where I was.

Castleton. The Yorkshire Dales. Where pink and black pigs mooching about in the middle of the road wearing a reindeer antler headband wasn’t all that weird.

All right.

The reindeer headband was weird.

The pig, however, was totally normal.

Farm animals weren’t exactly known for staying inside their fields, and it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of those here.

Everywhere.

Fields were everywhere.

So were farm animals, to be fair, although they did tend to retreat to barns in the winter. The frosts up here were sharp—sharper than I was used to after ten years living in the south of England where it was decidedly warmer. Unless Jack Frost wanted to terrorise most of the population, of course, then all bets were off.

Especially when he got together with a pissed off Elsa.

Never mind. I was going off on a tangent.

The point remained that there was a tiny pig in the middle of the road, and the pig possessed a remarkably lacking sense of danger. Lone animals usually hightailed it into the nearest field when a car came, but this one was just standing there, staring at me.

All right. Not all animals. Like sheep.

Sheep didn’t count.

Sheep were absolute bastards.

And so were bloody pheasants on account of the fact they flew into your car instead of away from it.

Maybe a pheasant was where this miniature pig learnt its road safety.

I turned the key to stop the engine running, grabbed my phone, and got out, taking the key with me. The last thing I needed was to get locked out of my car on what I knew was an unnamed road with no serious civilisation for at least a twenty-minute drive.

Apparently, you could take the girl out of the countryside, but you couldn’t take the countryside out of the girl.

I turned on the torch on my phone, sighed, and looked at the pig. “What are you doing out here?”

The little black and pink porker that was either a piglet or one of those mini pigs looked at me.

Naturally, it didn’t talk back.

It was a shame. If it did, then I’d know where to return him. On the other hand, allowing animals the ability to speak sounded like a headache that should only be unleashed on Halloween.

Or, you know.

Never.

In hindsight, parrots were bad enough.

Gracious, could you imagine if cats were given the gift of speaking the English language? We’d never hear the end of their complaints.

Dogs? That I could get on board with. A great deal of their chatter would be saying how much they love us and how happy they were to see us, and that was the kind of thing you could never hear too many times.

That was why I wanted a dog more than I wanted a boyfriend.

The dog would appreciate me more. And they were trainable.

At least so said my dating history.

The pig stared at me for a moment longer before he turned away and walked towards the hedgerow. It disappeared into the darkness, and the branches of the roadside hedge snagged on its reindeer antlers, popping them off its head.

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From Best Friend to Bride Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/from-best-friend-to-bride-read-online-emma-hart Sat, 30 Aug 2025 08:42:44 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/from-best-friend-to-bride-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)

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Would you marry your best friend to fulfil her dying grandmother’s last wish?

From New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart, comes a brand-new romantic comedy about how no good deed goes unpunished… AKA, the perils of marrying your best friend and accidentally falling stupidly in love with them.

When I find out my grandma only has weeks to live, the last thing I expect her to say is that her dying wish is to see me married.
The only problem is that I am the furthest thing from getting married a girl can be.
Broken-hearted I can’t fulfil her dreams, I seek comfort in my best friend, Fred… Who proposes to me on the spot.
The agreement is we’ll get married quickly and quietly, I’ll temporarily move into the estate he inherited as the Earl of Coventry, and we’ll get an annulment when the time comes.
Nana will never know.
Nothing between us will change.
In the end, it’ll be like our marriage never happened, and we’ll go right back to being best friends.
Until I realise that Fred is a man. A hot-blooded, hard-muscled, big di—ahem—man.
Nana always said that the best laid plans are the most fun to rip up, and maybe we should do just that

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

* * *

FRED

Would you marry your best friend to fulfil her dying grandmother’s last wish?

I did.

And, somehow, at some point, I fell in love with her.

My best friend—not her grandma, just to be clear. Although I’d loved her as if she were my own grandmother for my entire life.

I didn’t know how it happened. It felt almost as if everything had changed overnight, and I couldn’t even pinpoint the very moment I fell in love with Delilah Elizabeth Peters.

I just did.

I was wholly, helplessly, obsessively, unquestionably in love with my best friend, and it scared the life out of me.

Falling in love wasn’t in my plans. Not again. Not after the disaster that was my last relationship. I’d asked Deli to marry me purely to make her grandmother happy, and at the time, I’d figured that there were worse things in life than temporarily marrying your best friend.

I was right.

There were.

Falling in love with her was one of those things.

And so was sitting in front of the divorce papers to wipe away our marriage and pretend the ten months had never happened.

And, spoiler alert, darling reader, but I couldn’t do it.

More to the point, I wouldn’t do it.

I know what you’re wondering.

How did I reach this point of sitting in my office at one a.m., nursing a glass of the strong stuff, thinking about ripping up the divorce papers that would reset my life to a time before Deli was mine?

Well.

Get ready.

You’re about to find out exactly how I fell in love with my best friend.

1

* * *

DELILAH

“Your ugly crying face reminds me of that Kim Kardashian, but it’s somehow worse,” Nana said, idly stirring her margarita. “So, stop crying, Delilah.”

“That’s a bit below the belt, Mother,” Mum said, glancing between us. “Not entirely untrue but mean all the same.”

I wiped my fingers furiously across my cheeks. “Why are you ganging up on me? I’m upset!”

Nana sighed. “I’m the one who’s dying, dear.”

“That’s why I’m upset!”

“I’m not that upset about it.”

“Of course not. You’re not the one who has to live without you,” I pointed out, taking the tissue Mum offered me and dabbing it below my eyes.

There was no use trying to save my makeup.

I didn’t need a mirror to know there was no hope for my mascara now.

“I suppose that’s a very good point,” Nana said as she looked over her shoulder. “Where are my tacos?”

That’s right.

The woman who, not even an hour ago, heard her doctor tell her that she likely barely had months to live without more treatment, was more concerned about how long this restaurant was taking to bring out her tacos than her impending death.

While I, her youngest granddaughter, had been crying ever since.

No wonder my crying face was like Kim Kardashian’s. I couldn’t stop the bloody tears, no matter how hard I tried.

Not even tortilla chips and queso were doing the trick, so this was a deadly situation.

“Why don’t you go and wash your face?” Mum said softly, handing me a small packet of face wipes.

I knew what that meant.

It was her universal sign for, ‘Go and sort yourself out, Delilah.’

“Good idea,” I muttered, taking them from her. “Excuse me.”

I got up from the table with my bag and the face wipes in hand and made my way into the ladies’ restrooms. A quick glance in the mirror showed me exactly why my mother had sent me here.

I looked like I’d been dumped ten times over and smothered my face in stinging nettles.

“Good God,” I whispered, yanking two wipes out of the packet.

It was no wonder my cheeks were black from my mascara, though. My eyes were just watering at this point, even as I scrubbed aimlessly at the remaining makeup left coating my skin.

I was in a daze.

Like I was in a parallel universe, one where nothing would be okay, where my life would never be the same again. The words of Dr Anthony echoed in my mind, endlessly spiralling around my brain.

His apologies.

His assurance that Nana’s body could handle another go of radiation and chemo to give her another couple of years.

His regretful verdict that she likely only had three months left if she refused… if she was lucky.

His solemnity that she should go away and think about it.

I didn’t want to believe it.

I didn’t want to believe what he was telling us. Until today, there was always a chance that her cancer was curable. At one point, that had been reality, until it came back almost overnight, much more aggressively than before.

And now…

My heart was sliced cleanly in two with both sides warring. One side said there was no way Dr Anthony was right, that he was mistaken, that all the tests were wrong. They had to be wrong.

The other said it was inevitable, we knew it was coming after the last round of tests, that he’d warned us, that I shouldn’t be surprised.

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Rough Around the Hedges Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/rough-around-the-hedges-read-online-emma-hart Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:08:30 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/rough-around-the-hedges-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)

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He’s the city boy who wants to destroy the place she loves most.
She’s the countryside girl who is determined to break him first.
But when hearts are involved, can either of them truly win?

I, Rose Matthews, have always considered myself a perfectly reasonable person.
Until the day Oliver de Havilland—the hottie I wham, bam, thank you ma’am’d two weeks ago—shows up at Hanbury Allotments and hands me a closure notice. In two months, he’s going to shut down the place I love the most—the very place that keeps the dwindling community of our village alive.
Long story short; I’m ready to riot.
Riot. Protest. Run naked through the village centre with nothing but lettuce leaves covering my lady bits. You know, the usual.
The new Duke of Hanbury is as arrogant as the last, but there’s no way I’m going to let him get away with this. Especially not since his plan is to sell the land to make way for more cookie-cutter housing nobody wants.

This is more than a battle of wits—it’s a war, and a dirty one at that.
But I won’t lose.
Because if Oliver didn’t want to play dirty, he shouldn’t have roughed up a gardener

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

* * *

ROSE

Hanbury Allotments

“Behold my schlong!”

I stabbed my trowel into the raised vegetable bed in front of me and stared over the fence at my neighbour. “George, I’ve told you not to talk about your marrows that way. I’ve already had to calm Carol down three times because her grandson told all the ladies at church to ‘behold his schlong.’”

“That sounds like Carol’s problem,” George said nonchalantly, shrugging his drooping shoulders.

“It’s mine when she complains to me as the head of the allotment committee,” I pointed out.

“I know I’ve used it frivolously in the past, but I mean it this time. Look, Rose.” He leant over the waist-high fence and held his monstrous tiger marrow out in front of me. “It’s fuckin’ massive.”

He wasn’t lying. He needed two hands to hold it, and never had I seen a man so proud of one giant vegetable.

Size really did matter, it seemed.

“Mind your language,” Susan said from the other side of my plot. “And stop referring to your vegetables as genitalia, George. It makes it sound like you’re overcompensating for something.”

“I don’t need to overcompensate for anythin’.” George huffed, hugging his marrow to his chest. “Just because you aren’t getting any.”

“I’m seventy-one. What am I supposed to be getting? The bloody flu? Backache? Cataracts surgery?”

That was a bit dramatic of her.

She wasn’t that old.

She was practically middle-aged these days. And the picture of health, thank you very much.

Then again, Susan wouldn’t be Susan if there wasn’t a little drama in her day.

“Sex, Susan. Sex,” George said, enunciating each word. “S-e-x.”

“Psh.” She waved her gloved hand through the air in front of her. “Who has the time for sex? What’s wrong with a good cup of tea and reruns of The Chase to fulfil all your needs on a Friday night?”

Well, a cup of tea, for a start, but if I said that out loud, I’d be chased out of the country.

“What needs are being fulfilled by The Chase?”

“Bradley Walsh.” Susan licked her lips. “Now, there’s a man I’d let sex me up.”

Disgust contorted George’s aged features, and his jowls wobbled when he shuddered. “I don’t come to the allotment for casual sexual harassment like this.”

“You’re the one calling your marrow a schlong.”

“That’s less harassment than saying you’d sleep with Bradley Walsh.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I bet Bradley Walsh would.”

“How do you know? You haven’t asked him.”

“I don’t need to ask him to know what he’d think.”

“What about Gordon Ramsay instead, then? He’s a tasty thing.”

“Susan, he’d probably tell you that you’ve spent too long in the oven.”

“How rude—and what utter nonsense. If I were a meal, I’d be a dessert. No oven required.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because desserts are the best part of a meal, and I am most certainly far too good to be a mere appetiser and too sweet to be the main.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “That’s how I know.”

“Sweet? More like sour.”

I sighed and rubbed my hand down the side of my face, probably leaving a trail of dirt smeared over my cheek, but who cared? I was surrounded by chaos, which was saying something considering I was usually the chaos.

Thirty-six.

There were thirty-six plots at this allotment site, and mine was smack bang in the middle of two seventy-somethings playing out some perverted enemies-to-lovers fantasy like they were tragic protagonists in a romance novel.

I didn’t care what either of them said. They absolutely had the hots for one another, and they most certainly got a thrill out of flirt-arguing over the top of my head.

Sexual harassment? Pfft. I was the one being bloody sexually harassed here, thank you very much.

I just wanted to plant my marigolds to keep the whitefly off my tomatoes, for the love of God.

“Can you two take your flirting elsewhere?” I said, getting to my feet. “My pure and innocent ears are being corrupted by your depravity.”

“How can you call yourself pure and innocent?” George snorted. “Didn’t you pioneer the naked allotment calendar last year?”

I paused. “Yes, and that raised a lot of money for the farmer’s youth club to go on their trip this summer. We’re doing it again this year, and I’m not letting you get out of it, either.”

Susan laughed. “You can show the whole village your schlong then, George.”

He’d be showing more than just the village. Those calendars had been a viral hit.

It was truly surprising how many people were interested in a calendar of naked people covering their wobbly bits with their homegrown vegetables.

The internet was a strange place.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” I said, turning to her. “You’re getting your melons out, Susan. You didn’t do it last year, either.”

She dropped her trowel. “I can’t get naked in public!”

“You did that plenty in your younger days,” George said. “You once danced through the high street wearing nothing but a grass skirt and coconut bra.”

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You’re the Boss Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/youre-the-boss-read-online-emma-hart Sat, 11 May 2024 14:56:56 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/youre-the-boss-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

A sexy, banter-filled romcom between the secretary trying to escape and the man who refuses to let her go...

Current life hand in my resignation and get out from under the thumb of my cold, demanding boss that I’ve not-so-lovingly nicknamed The Bastard. After a month of trying and failing to get the infuriating man to accept it, his grandfather offers me the chance I’ve been waiting go on a trip up north for six weeks for a project that will solidify my boss’ position as the company Vice-President, and he’ll personally see to it that my resignation is processed on our return. The catch? I have to live with him for those six weeks.

That’s exactly how I acquire a rich, handsome roommate who doesn’t seem to know what a shirt is, can’t operate a washing machine, and might actually set the kitchen on fire. They’re all sides of Theodore Black I’ve never seen before, but I still don’t know if I want to kick him or kiss him. Until I accidentally walk in on him doing some self-care in the shower. And maybe… the office isn’t the only place he’s the boss.

You're the Boss is a steamy standalone romantic comedy. If you love roommates, office romances, and hate/love relationships, this is for you.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE – CHLOE

The Bastard

“Pour me a drink.” I slammed my bag down on the table and dropped woefully into my chair.

Heidi uncapped the bottle of soju and poured me a shot. “I’m guessing he didn’t accept your resignation today, either?”

I threw back the liquor and wiped my mouth, glaring at her. “No. Do you know what that bastard did when I offered it to him? He didn’t even look at me when he said, ‘Miss St. James, if that envelope doesn’t contain the report on the Adair Travel acquisition, I don’t want it.’”

My best friend rested her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “It seems like he’s just coming up with excuses now. Surely, he’s aware of how miserable you are. There’s no way he can’t be.”

“Ha! Do you really think that loathsome, self-centred bastard is aware of anything but his own feelings?” I poured another shot and downed it. “I cannot believe such a miserable wanker is descended from such sweet men. His grandfather and father are absolutely nothing like him. I’m this close to begging Cassidy to let me work with her for the President instead, even if it means a pay cut.”

“What I don’t understand is why you have to hand your resignation letter to your boss. Can’t you just submit one via email to HR?”

“That’s the one bone I have to pick with the duke,” I said, toying with my empty glass. “Well, that and his insistence that I was vital to this arsehole settling in at the company. I mean, sure, I got a pay rise, but do you know what also went up? My blood pressure.”

Heidi poured me another shot.

“Direct employees such as my wonderful self are obligated to hand in a written resignation to their superior as well as contacting HR. I’ve already told HR I want to resign, but they can’t process it until the boss gives his permission.”

“That seems a bit arse backwards.”

“Yeah, but how much of a selfish git do you have to be not to accept your employee’s resignation? I’m giving him six weeks’ notice, and I’d be training my successor on top of doing my job. He’s hardly going to be left high and dry, is he?”

A waitress came over and set a plate of ribs and wings between us. “Your side dishes will be right out.”

“Thanks,” Heidi said. “Can we get another bottle of soju, please?”

“Of course.”

Heidi turned back to me. “Your problem is that you’re just too good at your job, Chlo. Isn’t that how you became the President’s executive assistant in the first place?”

“Yes, but that was when the duke was the President,” I replied. “He was much easier to work for, and I had competent superiors who taught me everything I know. Nobody was expecting him to retire and hand the business down this soon, and if I’d known, I’d have resigned before I ended up in the Vice-President’s office.”

“Don’t you still speak to the duke regularly? Can’t you ask him to tell his grandson to accept your resignation?”

“Ha! Do you think that would make a difference? The Bastard’s father has already tried. Cassidy caught me in one of my failed attempts and promised to speak to him, but that git of a boss of mine brushed it off.” I grabbed one of the ribs as our side dishes were brought out—and the other bottle of soju.

Heidi picked up her water and sipped through the straw, glancing away thoughtfully for a moment. “You knew resigning wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t like he became the Vice-President of the company at thirty-one just because it’s his family business.”

I tore into my rib with my teeth, pulling a hefty chunk of meat off the bone. All right, fine—she was right. That bastard was exceptional at his job and had worked to prove to the company shareholders and board of directors that he was qualified to hold his position, but I would never admit that out loud.

“I think he enjoys torturing me. Perhaps I’ve stumbled into a Christian Grey fanfic without realising it,” I muttered.

“Hmm. He certainly has the looks and the bank account for it.”

“Not to mention that insufferable know-it-all, micromanaging personality.”

“I’m not sure you’re someone who can complain about a micromanaging personality.”

“Please don’t compare me to him. I prefer to describe myself as meticulous,” I argued.

“Whatever you want,” she sang, licking sauce off her fingers before tucking her short, dark hair behind her ear. “Have you even found another job yet?”

I paused. “I have a couple of interviews lined up.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to pull in the same salary you’re on right now? You’re on more money than the average executive assistant.”

“I work more hours than the average executive assistant,” I countered. “A lower salary is a fair trade-off for less working hours.”

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Wild The Complete Series – Wild Attraction, Wild Temptation, Wild Addiction (Wild #0.5-2) Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/wild-the-complete-series-wild-attraction-wild-temptation-wild-addiction-wild-0-5-2-read-online-emma-hart Mon, 09 Oct 2023 12:40:13 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/wild-the-complete-series-wild-attraction-wild-temptation-wild-addiction-wild-0-5-2-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Emma Hart Series: Wild Series by Emma Hart
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Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)

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He's a sex addict. I'm a love addict.
He craves my body. I crave his heart.
His addiction feeds mine.
My cravings ignite his.
Together, we're dangerous.
Destructive.
Obsessive.
Wild.
This is temptation...

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

You don’t have to be born beautiful to be wildly attractive.

- Diana Vreeland

“Angus! You little shit!” I hobble across the kitchen, my still-damp hair plastered to the sides of my face and my tights knotted around my ankles. “Go away!” I swipe at my cat and he leaps from the counter.

I look at the now half-empty tin of tuna on the side. How he managed to get the lid off, I’ll never know. It was only cracked open a little after I drained the juice.

“Seriously? I go to get dressed and you pilfer my dinner? What kind of cat are you?”

Angus looks at me, unaffected, and licks his paw. I stare at him in annoyance for a long moment before giving into the inevitable and tipping the remaining fish into his food bowl. He sticks his tail in the air triumphantly as he meanders across the room to it.

“Stupid animal,” I mutter, reaching down and tugging up my tights.

Rrrrrip.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!” I bend over and examine the rip snaking up my right calf. With a heavy sigh, I pull the tights off and throw them in the trash. The lid clangs down loudly, and Angus looks away from his food to shoot me a disdainful look.

I point at him. “This is all your fault, you know. I caught you stealing my tuna so had to run out here before I could put them on. Don’t you know tonight is the night I could end up in Jackson’s bed, hmm? And look at these.” I stretch my leg out in front of him. “They’re whiter than white.”

My cat returns to his food. I drop my leg and head back into my room. Well, one good thing has come from this—if I do end up going home with Jackson tonight, it’s one less obstacle in the way.

I run my hands up my legs, checking to see if I missed any spots when I shaved earlier. No stray hairs, thank God.

I keep half an eye on my grumpy cat as I grab the hairdryer and dry my hair. I wouldn’t put it past him to do anything else… like open a cupboard to find more tuna. The damn animal has two thumbs, I’m fucking sure of it. The shit he can do is not normal.

By the time my hair is falling around my shoulders, dry, the cat in question is sitting at my kitchen table staring at me. I do my best to ignore him as I apply my makeup and get dressed in something more covering than my underwear.

My phone buzzes.

There are a million stores in this city and I still haven’t found a rehearsal dinner dress. What’s wrong with me?

I grin at my best friend’s text message. That’s what you get for choosing your wedding dress in Paris without me.

Whatever. We’re looking for your dress soon. Behave tonight.

My smile drops. Shopping with Bridezilla? Oh, crap. Although, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and admit Aaron is the one who picked the earlier date. Dayton only went along with it because he left all the major choices up to her… Which means he’ll be finding himself wearing pink.

All is fair in love and war, I suppose.

I drop my phone into my purse knowing the last words of her message will be disregarded. Given that Jackson, my ex-manager, is my number one man crush for, like, ever, behaving is the last thing on my mind tonight.

Today is his birthday, and I plan to help him finish his day with a bang. Preferably a hot and sweaty one that finishes up with an orgasm.

Really, it’s not much to ask for.

“You,” I pause at the door and point at Angus, “Stay out of trouble. I don’t want to come back and find you humping a lady cat again. Are we clear?”

He mews pathetically and turns away from me. I roll my eyes and head downstairs to my waiting cab. I’m already running a bit late thanks to the tuna fiasco—okay, so I was running late before that happened, but it’s so much easier to blame my cat.

Downtown Seattle is thriving as we drive in. The window of the cab is cracked open a little and I can hear the happy shouts and laughs of groups of people as we come to a stop. We’re stuck in some traffic, and I tap my foot agitatedly.

I lean between the seats and try to get a glimpse at how bad it is. “Do you know how long we’ll be stuck here?” I ask the driver.

He shakes his head. “No, darlin’, sorry,” he rasps in a heavy smoker’s voice. “There was a crash just outside the Southfall earlier today. Last I heard the cops were still sniffing around there.”

“Great.” I blow out a long breath. “Listen, I’m running late. Do you mind if I get out here?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >210

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Dead and Breakfast (Fox Point Files #1) Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/dead-and-breakfast-fox-point-files-1-read-online-emma-hart Thu, 20 Jul 2023 19:19:55 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/dead-and-breakfast-fox-point-files-1-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Contemporary, Suspense Authors: Emma Hart Series: Fox Point Files Series by Emma Hart
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >95

From New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart, comes an addictive new romcom mystery series that fans of her Holly Woods Files series will adore. It's all the heat, heart, and snark you love—just deadly. Welcome to Fox Point — not everyone leaves this town alive. I remember the first time I ever saw Detective Inspector Noah George.
We were seven, stupid, and he threw sand in my eye. I’m pretty sure that’s when I fell in love with him. Hey—I did say I was stupid.
Summers in Fox Point, my grandfather’s seaside hometown, were all we had together. Then we turned eighteen, life happened, and he never spoke to me again.
Until my grandfather’s death calls me back to the small town, only for his lawyer to tell me he’s left me my family’s dilapidated bed and breakfast that was home to many things—my first sleepover party, where my grandma taught me to cross-stitch, my first kiss with Noah…
And apparently, my first dead body.

My name is Lottie O’Neil, and I’m on the hook for the murder of a man I’ve barely met.
And the one who’ll have to arrest me is the only man I’ve ever loved.
Unless I find the real killer first.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Funerals weren’t my thing.

I’d never been particularly good around dead people. In fact, I wasn’t all that good around blood, never mind anything that was no longer alive.

It was ironic, given my historically bad black thumb. The only dead thing I was good with was a dead plant. I didn’t want to think about how many plant souls I’d killed in my twenty-eight years on this Earth.

I wanted to shudder at the prospect of it.

I never knew what to do at a funeral. I’d only ever been to one in my life, and it was at this very same church, but I could barely remember it. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was too young to really understand what was going on when my nana died, or if it was because I’d slowly blocked out the pain as I’d gotten older.

It was weirdly fitting that the funeral I’d just witnessed was that of my darling grandpa.

I hadn’t cried in the ten days since he’d died. We’d known it was coming—he’d moved out of his bed and breakfast five years ago to move in with us, then to the hospice where he’d lived out the past six months of his life, bar the final two days where he’d gone back to our house.

He was ready, he’d said. He’d wanted to die at home, here in Fox Point, but since that wasn’t an option, ‘the shack my parents had bought’ would do.

I’d laughed at it. It was such a Grandpa thing to say, and it was comforting in a way I hadn’t known I’d needed at the time. To know that the man I loved so dearly was still in there, despite his pain and deterioration, brought me so much peace.

Especially when he’d let go. He’d done so with us around him, holding his hands, telling him how much we loved him.

I would never forget that shattering moment of silence when he stopped breathing.

For a moment, it’d been like the entire universe had frozen. The world had stopped turning, the wind had stopped blowing, and even the seas themselves had settled into stillness.

I’d struggled with silence ever since.

There had to be noise now. Music or a TV channel or even white noise whooshing away in the background. Silence brought such overwhelming grief that I couldn’t stand it. Silence allowed my mind to wander, to relive those final moments, and I wasn’t ready for it yet.

It was said that grief came in stages, and perhaps I was firmly in the denial stage. Not denial that Grandpa was gone; denial that I had to face up to the hole his death had left in my life.

Even now, as my father wrapped his arm around my shoulders while we walked away from the church, it wasn’t silent. The breeze that came off the North Sea and filtered through the streets was a little colder than usual for this time of year, and it rattled through the old trees at the perimeter of the church, swishing the leaves together in a melancholy melody that followed us all the way to the car.

Mum stopped there and looked back. Her eyes were ringed with red, and she clasped a thick wad of tissue to her chest as a lone tear slowly slid down her cheek.

I slipped my arm around her waist, leaning my head against her shoulder. “Come on, Mum,” I said softly. “We don’t want to be late.”

She nodded and turned back to the car, where Dad opened the door for her to get in. She did so without a word.

She hadn’t spoken for two days.

I wasn’t sure she knew what to do without Grandpa.

I didn’t know if any of us did.

Being back in Fox Point without him was weird. I’d only ever known this town as an extension of the vibrant, loving man that he was, and those memories were filled with sand and sunshine, with freshly-picked strawberries and his booming laugh.

There was sunshine, sure. There was sand on the beach. There’d be fresh strawberries to pick soon enough when it warmed up a little more, but I’d never again hear his bigger-than-life laugh.

Fox Point was eerily empty without him.

“Mum’ll be okay,” Dad whispered, squeezing my hand. “She just needs time.”

“I know.” I smiled sadly at him and climbed into the back seat behind Mum. We’d arrived in the funeral procession, but Dad had driven over early this morning with an old friend of his. We had to meet Grandpa’s lawyer to look over the will since he was the executor, and Dad thought it would be best to go straight there after the funeral.

Get it over with and all that.

Looking at Mum, I wasn’t sure it was the best idea after all.

She was Grandpa’s only heir, being the last living person of her family. Including me, of course, but we had no reason to believe he’d leave me anything.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >95

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The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/the-problem-with-pretending-read-online-emma-hart Thu, 01 Jun 2023 11:54:09 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-problem-with-pretending-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Contemporary, Funny Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >128

Literally colliding with the hottest guy in the world and agreeing to be his date to his sister’s wedding? Done… for some reason.

Finding out he’s actually an aristocrat and will one day inherit an ancient Scottish dukedom and castle? Yep, that’s a surprise.

Sharing a bed with him at said castle because his family thinks I’m his girlfriend? Okay, I’m sure I’ll survive. Even if he does make my heart pitter-patter and my lady bits—uh, never mind.

Dealing with his family feud, his bridezilla sister, and his grandma’s gobby cockatiel who fancies himself the castle alarm system? It’s… well, it’s… something.

Oh, and a snowstorm, keeping my real identity a secret, trying to figure out where the heck I know the Glenroch family from, and why his mum keeps looking at me weirdly?

Yeah, that I’ll need some help with…

*Please note that The Problem With Pretending is set in the United Kingdom and is written in British English. It's set in my aristoverse but is a complete standalone.*

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE – GRACE

The Dramas of Dating

“He stuck it in my arse.”

I paused with my fingers hovering over the keyboard of my laptop and slowly raised my gaze from my dissertation I was working on to where my best friend was staring at me. “I’m sorry… What?”

Amber slammed her keys on the coffee table and met my gaze. “He stuck his penis up my bum.”

“No, no, I got that bit,” I replied, letting my hands settle on my laptop. “Also, hello.”

She sighed, throwing herself onto the sofa and almost knocking over my bottle of water in the process of putting her feet up on the coffee table.

“The date didn’t go well, then?” I asked, glancing at the time. “Despite it going on all night.”

And her wearing the same clothes she’d left in sixteen hours ago.

If looks could kill, Amber would be on the hook for murder. “Grace!”

“What? I was only asking.” I blinked. “Also, did you close the front door?”

“Did I not slam it hard enough for you?”

“I didn’t know if Mrs. Johanssen, four houses down, heard you or not, so I thought I ought to check.”

“Grace! You’re my best friend. Aren’t you supposed to offer me some advice?”

“Sorry, Amb. I’m not really sure what to reply to an accidental dick in the arse except offering you some Vaseline,” I replied honestly. “Of all my dating fails, I can’t say I’ve ever been as unfortunate as that.”

Amber stared at me, and she blinked so emphatically that one of her false eyelashes came free from the glue and peeled away from her eyelid.

“You’ve got a little…” I touched the tip of my nail to my eye and lightly tapped.

She winced and peeled it off. “Better?”

“Not really. Now I feel like I’m talking to half a bird.”

“For God’s sake.” She carefully removed the other eyelash—that was obviously applied yesterday—and dropped them in an empty mug on the coffee table. “Is that better?”

“I’d prefer you put them in the bin as opposed to my tea mug, but I suppose it isn’t worse,” I replied, manually saving my essay. “How did he put it in your arse?”

Amber blinked at me. “I’m never doing it doggy style again.”

That explained quite a bit.

“Ah. But still, how don’t they know? Surely the resistance is a dead giveaway. I mean, it goes from wet and ready to…”

“Putting a bowling ball in a buttonhole?”

“Slightly more drastic a descriptor than I was initially going for, but I suppose it works.” I shrugged and saved my document again to make sure, then put my laptop on the table. “I guess you won’t be seeing him again, then.”

“What gave it away?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it is lunchtime. Is he that bad if you’ve been with him that long?”

“We didn’t get back to his place until two in the morning. I tried calling you after the terrible sex from his bathroom to pick me up, but you didn’t answer.”

I blinked at her. “Yes, Amber. It was four a.m. I was doing the same thing most normal people were doing and sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you call me back this morning?”

“I did. It went to voicemail.”

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out her phone. “Ah. It’s dead.”

“I guess he didn’t have a charger,” I mused, getting up and grabbing the mug with her fake lashes in. “Mine is at the side of the sofa.”

“Thank you,” she sang, leaning over to snaffle the charge lead. “Ah. There we go. Now I’m going to have seventy thousand notifications pop up.”

“I told you to shut them off in the settings. You’ll feel so much freer without all that interference.”

“If only I could. I’d miss half my work. Why did I decide to work with social media?”

I walked into the kitchen, flicked the kettle on, and shouted back through the hall, “Because all the other jobs you were open to required you to wear actual clothes on a daily basis.”

“Ah,” Amber called back. “Now I remember.”

I shook my head and turned back to the kettle, pausing to grab two mugs from the cupboard. I didn’t like to dirty them unnecessarily, but I wasn’t about to plop her eyelashes out and drink from the same mug I had this morning.

Apparently, those eyelashes had had quite the night.

“Oh, no. He’s texted me! Grace! Help!”

I sighed.

The kettle reached its boiling crescendo and the click of the button switching it off reverberated through the kitchen. I hurriedly made two cups of tea, doubled back for the packet of chocolate digestives to tuck under my arm, and rushed back through as quickly as I dared.

“What did he say?” I asked, moving my elbow to drop the packet of biscuits on the sofa before I put the tea down.

“‘Thanks for a great night, sorry about the whole butt thing and having to rush off to work this morning. Are you free Friday? Apology dinner on me,’” she read. Amber slowly dragged her gaze from her phone screen to meet mine, and she was so stony-faced that if she stayed like that much longer, she’d end up turning into a gargoyle and catapulting herself to live on the side of my father’s house.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >128

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Big Duke Energy Read Online Emma Hart http://www.wownovels.com/big-duke-energy-read-online-emma-hart Wed, 02 Nov 2022 21:50:14 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/big-duke-energy-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Funny, Romance Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >131

When bestselling romance author Ellie Aarons finds herself with chronic writer’s block, she’s pretty sure all she needs is a change of scenery. A beautiful lakeside cottage with her cat seems like a good idea.
She’s wrong. She needs more than a change of scenery—she needs a muse.
Which is why it’s so irritating that she’s drawn to the enigmatic but grumpy Duke of Windermere who owns the estate she’s staying on.
They don’t get along—not in the slightest. They could not be more different, which is why it’s so irritating that Max seems to be the muse she’s been looking for. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t help but picture him as the hero in her next book.
Oh, well. There’s really not a lot she can do about it. The muse wants what the muse wants.
Except Sir Winston Purrchill keeps exploring the goat barn, and Max’s delivery of him for the fiftieth time means he sees her manuscript open on her laptop.
He knows instantly that she’s writing about him. The story she’s written reflects their entire relationship until now, but that spicy scene?
That hasn’t happened. Yet.
Max is ready to compromise—he’ll give her the inspiration she needs for her novel, but she has to stop asking why he’s so against the relationship his grandmother desperately wants him to have.
With her deadline looming, Ellie has no other option but to agree.
She just hopes that she won’t do what her heroine is doing.
And fall in love with the duke.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

ELLIE

Cockblocked By My Brain

His cock was huge.

I sighed, disappointed.

I could not start a book like that.

I hit the backspace key until I’d deleted it all. Unfortunately, all that had achieved was giving me another great view of a blank page with nothing but the words “Chapter One” written on it.

I’d been here for eight days, staring at the endless whiteness that was the beginning of a new book.

It was new to me.

My writing process could be chaotic, but the only thing that wasn’t was the fact that I always had the first scene written before I officially started writing and tracking my words.

With this book…

I had nothing.

Nada.

Diddly-bloody-squat.

I’d written the first line what felt like one hundred thousand times, and I was shit out of luck.

My brain was broken.

There were no words in there.

I knew the working title. I knew the story. I knew how my down-on-her-luck heroine’s life would change after a chance meeting with a duke who was once her brother’s best friend. I knew how they’d fall in love and save each other from their messy lives, but I couldn’t write it.

This was a problem, to say the least. I had a tight-arse deadline from my publisher to adhere to and an awful lot of dedicated readers who were desperately awaiting a new book.

One that I couldn’t write.

The words were gone.

I was no stranger to a bit of writer’s block. Usually, a day or two away doing something mindless like sorting the towels or watching my favourite show or even reading a book would fix it, but not today.

There was a great wall there, stopping my fingers and my brain from communicating.

Nothing worked.

It was scary.

I’d never been in this position before.

And, of course, the more I thought about my looming deadline, the more I panicked. The more I panicked, the tenser I got, and the less I could focus, meaning I had less and less chance of getting myself out of the situation I was in.

It was a vicious circle of never-ending proportions.

I was somewhere in the middle of it all right now. The words just really weren’t coming out, and it was so stupid because they were there. In my brain. Swirling around and around the way tea did after stirring.

But I didn’t need them there. I needed them on the page.

I sighed and sat back in the chair, then tapped my nails against the surface of my desk. This just wasn’t working. I was simply doing the same thing over and over again, but it wasn’t like it was changing anything. I wasn’t getting anywhere.

This was… not good. My editor would be expecting an update, and what was I supposed to tell her? “Oh, I’m sorry, my brain doesn’t want to work so I have nothing but a working title that I despise and a vague idea of what might happen but I’m not really sure, actually.”

No, no… That wasn’t going to work.

“Fuck my liiiiife,” I breathed, burying my head in my hands. I clawed my fingers through my hair, digging my nails into my scalp, and dropped my chin right to my chest in defeat.

My phone dinged with a text message, and I reached for it, pulling it off the charge lead.

MEGAN: I hate my boss. She’s a snobby judgemental pious bitch and I wish I could hit her with a frying pan and throw her in a canal somewhere.

Ironically, I was feeling that way about my boss.

There was just one problem.

I was my boss.

ME: I, too, hate my boss. And you missed a couple of commas.

MEGAN: Shove your Oxford comma up your arse.

ME: Never. I’ll be buried with it.

MEGAN: What did your boss do?

ME: Her brain won’t work. What did yours do this time?

MEGAN: Ripped my entire marketing plan to pieces in front of the whole team. I fucking hate her so much. I need a new job. I’m going to get a new job.

She wasn’t going to get a new job. She’d been looking for one for the last ten months, but she hadn’t actually gone on any interviews. I’d even sent her some job listings to call her bluff, but she and I both knew she wasn’t going to get another job.

She’d worked too hard for the one she had, and she was far too determined to prove to her boss that she was wrong and Megan was right.

ME: No, you’re not. You’ll never get a new job.

MEGAN: ALL RIGHT BUT I WANT ONE.

ME: It doesn’t change the fact you won’t quit.

MEGAN: No, you’re right. I won’t. I’ll prove that snobby cow wrong if it kills me.

ME: It might. Your blood pressure seems pretty high.

MEGAN: You’ve met that woman. My blood pressure is always high.

ME: You should see someone about that.

MEGAN: I will. The CEO when I’m promoted above that bitch.

ME: Dream big, darling.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >131

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Lust Read Online Emma Hart (Vegas Nights #2) http://www.wownovels.com/lust-2-read-online-emma-hart Mon, 16 Jan 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/lust-2-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Funny, New Adult, Romance Authors: Emma Hart Series: Vegas Nights Series by Emma Hart
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

Read Online Books/Novels:	Lust (Vegas Nights #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Emma Hart
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9781370865949
Book Information:
New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart, brings together two polar-opposite single parents in the second book in the sinfully sexy Vegas Nights series. Detective Adrian Potter had a lot to answer for. I didn’t care that he was tasked with shutting down the city’s most prolific hookers. I cared that he was stopping me from providing for my daughter. He didn’t care. Not at all. Until I broke down in the backseat of his car… And he let me go. Adrian was a single parent, too. He knew how hard I had it. At least, he thought he did. He had a job. He had people who cared. He didn’t know just how lucky he was. My name is Perrie Fox. I was a whore of the highest value. Until Detective Adrian Potter. Until the tattooed, redemption-seeking detective entered my life, looking for his fairytale. The cop and the hooker. Happily ever fucking never. You’ve met one Fox sibling. Now meet the other… (LUST is book two of the Vegas Nights series. While it is a standalone, the time frame does overlap with scenes in the previous book, SIN. You can, however, read LUST without reading SIN.)
Books in Series:	Vegas Nights Series by Emma Hart
Books by Author:	Emma Hart Books

Chapter One

Perrie

Sometimes, a girl just didn’t need a finger up her asshole.

Today was that day.

Unfortunately, whether I needed it or not hadn’t mattered to the selfish, married guy lying on the bed in the next room. He wanted his finger in my ass, so I had to deal with his finger in my ass.

Thank god I made him pay before I fucked him. I wanted to get the hell out of this room—and before he did. I’d been stiffed with a hotel bill before, which basically meant all the degrading bullshit I’d put myself through that evening had been for nothing.

I brushed my hair up into a ponytail. The band snapped against my fingers right as the sound of a phone ringing shrilly crept through the crack in the bathroom door. The sounds of a scramble ensued, followed by a very clear, very bright, “Hi, honey!”

Yeah. I’d be bright and happy if I were a guy who’d just got my dick sucked by a professional.

If I had business cards, that’s what I’d put on them. Perrie Fox: Professional dick sucker. It had a ring to it.

As much as I wanted to stand here and cuss out the guy, I couldn’t complain. One, I was as bad as he was. Two, he’d paid me enough to keep the roof over mine and my daughter’s heads and feed us for the next several days. This was also my cue to leave.

I knew how it went. He’d speak to his wife for at least fifteen minutes, telling her all the things he’d done. Then, when she inevitably saw the credit card bill or bank statement—or she’d been online—he’d explain away the cash withdrawal as a little gambling he’d inevitably lost.

Welcome to Sin City. Not even Satan wanted half these fucktards.

I stuffed my heels in my purse and slipped on my flats. They allowed me to escape through the suite unnoticed. I didn’t know which room the guy was in, but he didn’t hear the click or creak of the door as I made my getaway.

Thank god.

I’d learned to read people in the few years I’d been doing this. It came in handy—if I had to approach anyone in a busy place, it made it easy to pick out who I could sidle up next to at the bar or the gambling table and get lucky with. I was rarely wrong. I couldn’t afford to be wrong—if I was, by the time I’d realized it, someone else had grabbed the right guy.

Anyway, this meant I knew exactly what kind of man the guy I’d just disappeared on was. Aside from being a sleazeball cheat, he was one those. He’d ask for my number to call every time he was in Vegas since he was here for business.

The fact he’d told me, mid-screw, that I was the best hooker he’d ever paid for gave that away.

Unfortunately, I’d had virgins give me a better time, so he could suck it.

I certainly wouldn’t be doing any more sucking for him.

I handed my ticket to the hotel valet. He’d already been slipped a hundred bucks by the guy, whatever his name actually was, so the valet retrieved my car and handed me the keys without a word. He knew exactly what I was. I wasn’t exactly a stranger at any of the hotels in Vegas, but as long as they kept getting business out of me, they didn’t really care that much.

Because, let’s face it. This was Vegas. Hookers weren’t exactly unique here.

Or, maybe they did care. Maybe they simply realized that for every moment they did care, there was someone else who didn’t.

It was whatever to me.

I slipped the valet ten dollars and got into my car. It wasn’t the newest car—hell, it was older than my daughter, so I stood out like a sore thumb at this high-end hotel, but no amount of luxury could disguise what I was, and it was just that simple.

No matter how you looked at it or even considered the fact my family owned half the strip clubs in Las Vegas. I always was and always would be a whore, because they were all but dead to me.

Stuck in traffic, I tapped my fingers against the top of the steering wheel. The minutes were clicking over on the clock, and I was ever more aware of the fact that if those minutes ticked over the hour, my sitter was going to cost me even more money. Which was a joke in itself, because my daughter, Lola, would be asleep. And if she wasn’t, I needed a new damn sitter since it was a quarter to midnight.

Thankfully, I managed to escape down a side road and made it home minutes before the clock hit twelve. I hastily paid my sitter, bid her goodnight, and locked the door as she left. I watched through the window as she got into her car and drove off down the street into the darkness.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

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Sin Read Online Emma Hart (Vegas Nights #1) http://www.wownovels.com/sin-1-read-online-emma-hart Mon, 12 Dec 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/sin-1-read-online-emma-hart Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Authors: Emma Hart Series: Vegas Nights Series by Emma Hart
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >108

Read Online Books/Novels:	Sin (Vegas Nights #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Emma Hart
Language:	English
Book Information:
New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart, brings the heat and heart in a brand-new series of sexy standalone novels, starting with SIN... Damien Fox lived up to his name. Cunning, sly, and dangerous, fifty percent of Vegas’ strip clubs were his. Whatever he wanted, money, attention, women, he got. And now he wanted to buy my bar, no matter the cost. I wanted him to go to hell on a first-class ticket. He played a dirty game, and I followed his rules. I let him think he would win. Despite our differences, it was clear to see that we were no more than two broken hearts colliding in the darkness. Closed off, sexy, and holding a pain that would crush a lesser man, he was the ultimate sin. One I couldn’t deny myself, even though I knew better than to trust a fox... (SIN is book one of the Vegas Nights series. Each book in this series is a standalone novel.)
Books in Series:	Vegas Nights Series by Emma Hart
Books by Author:	Emma Hart Books

One

Dahlia

It didn’t feel real.

Staring at the book-themed bar that was now mine, I sighed. It was all I could think about. It wasn’t real. It was a dumb dream that I’d wake up from if only someone would punch me in the face.

I’d always known that The Scarlet Letter would be mine. The bar was a love letter from my father to my mother, and today was the first time I’d stood in the building since my father’s death. Seventeen years since my mom’s murder had flown fast—but not as fast as the three months since my father’s passing. I’d spent the weeks since his funeral staying with family in California, but two days ago, I’d gotten a call from the manager of the bar.

Someone wants to buy your bar, she’d said. He’s offering a ton of money. You need to come and handle this.

Honestly, that was the polite version. Since the manager was my best friend, the exact words had been, “Dahlia Lloyd, that’s enough of this. That cock Damien Fox wants to buy the bar and won’t leave me alone. Get your ass back to Vegas to deal with your shit, because this is your problem, not mine. I won’t fix anymore for you. Three months is long enough.”

She wasn’t wrong. She’d been running the bar in my absence, doing all the things that weren’t in her job description because I’d been hiding from the reality of my situation.

Which was this. The Scarlet Letter, Las Vegas’ most successful non-strip club, was mine.

This building with its book-nook booths and literary influence woven into every part of it was all mine.

I knew how to run it. I knew every inch of the building. I just didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do now.

“Well, hello, stranger.” Abby, my best friend, strolled into the bar, cutting off my woeful and self-pitying inner-monologue. Her fiery auburn hair fell loosely around her shoulders, contrasting perfectly against her scarlet-red dress.

She pulled me into the tightest hug known to man, squeezing for all her worth. Which, thanks to her love of Pilates and yoga, was a lot.

“Hey. Can’t breathe.” I wriggled to extract myself from her tight grip.

“I don’t care if you can’t breathe.” She squeezed one last time, as if to make her point, then let me go. “How dare you leave me here to deal with that insufferable man?”

I blinked at her. “I didn’t even know you were dealing with him until two days ago.”

“You should have known.”

“With all my psychic powers?”

Abby pursed her glossy lips.

“I know, I know.” I sighed. She could guilt-trip with the best of them. “I should have been here. I’m sorry, Abs. I just needed…”

“Time. I know. Four weeks from your dad’s diagnosis wasn’t enough time for you.”

Swallowing hard, I carefully set my purse down on the table nearest to me. It was one of the one-legged ones that was fixed to the floor, and its lone leg was a stack of fake books. It was one of my favorite things about the bar.

“It wasn’t,” I agreed with her. “I still don’t feel ready to be back here.”

“You’ll never be ready. You just have to do it. If we all waited until we were ready to do something, we’d do nothing but watch reruns on Netflix.”

She had a point there, too. I hated it when she was wise like this. It made it hard for me to argue with her.

“Well, I’m back now. I dropped my stuff at the house earlier, and I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow, saying the words made it feel more real. “You’re right. Three months was too long.”

And, if I was honest with myself, I was starting to get bored—and annoyed. I loved my family, but I had little tolerance for my soap-star cousin whose drama didn’t stay on the set. I knew moping around wouldn’t be something my dad wanted me to do. He’d made that abundantly clear the moment the doctor had looked at him and told him the tumors on his lung were cancerous and that treatment would only prolong his life.

“Don’t cry for me, flower,” he’d said, holding my hand. “I’ve done my bit with you, now it’s time for me to see your momma. It’s all yours now.”

I took a deep breath and swatted the memory away. Holding onto it would do nothing but make me cry. It was still too raw—four weeks wasn’t enough for anyone to find out they were losing a parent, especially not when that parent had raised you for almost your entire life.

Quite simply, I didn’t really know how to live without my father. It was a world I was attempting to navigate, and most days, I felt like a newborn giraffe trying to walk for the first time. As lame as that sounded, it was the truth. That was why coming home was so scary.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

Lust (Vegas Nights #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

9781370865949

Vegas Nights Series by Emma Hart

Emma Hart Books