Friday, December 02, 2016

Cover & Excerpt Reveal for CASANOVA by Emma Hart!








Blurb:
Once upon a time, I loved him.

He broke me and he didn't even know it.
I ran from him.
He didn't chase me.
He never needed to, because he knew I'd come back.
He was right.
Death brought me home to him.
Brett Walker.
Drop dead gorgeous and filthy-mouthed with a smile that turns saints to sinners.
A casanova to his core.
My ex-best friend.
And the bad boy whose reputation precedes him—the same reputation I'm tasked with turning to gold... Or so they think.
Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all...




Amazon link will be released in January



Excerpt:

The coffee shop door slammed behind me. I barely gave Brett a dirty look before turning and heading in the opposite direction to where he was standing.
“Whoa. Is that the first coffee of the day?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped. “And yes, actually, it is. But don’t think I’m adverse to throwing it over your smug little face.”
He held his hands up, his expression not changing at all. “Coincidence, I swear. I was walking past and saw you.”
“And you couldn’t keep walking, huh?”
“Nope.” His eyes briefly dropped. “You look smart. Going anywhere important?”
“Ah.” I smiled, but it wasn’t exactly the friendliest one I’d ever offered anyone. “You spoke to Cora.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You know Cora.”
“She called me.”
“Of course she did.”
“Who else do you think called me? Do you have a bombshell assistant stashed away somewhere who schedules your mindless fucks?”
Brett froze. Only for a second, but long enough that it was unmissable. A smile, almost cold, slid across his slips and into his eyes. “I see your run with Camille was successful.”
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. I took one step toward him, doing the best to control the way my lips wanted to turn upward. “Oh, she didn’t even scratch the surface,” I said, staring into his blue-gray eyes. “But she doesn’t need to. Everybody else already did it for her.” I sipped my coffee and moved back. “See you at six, Brett. If that doesn’t interrupt any other…plans…you might have.”
His stubble-coated, square jaw clenched and then ticked. Annoyance flashed at me from his gaze, but that didn’t stop him shutting the slight distance between us and taking the ends of my hair between his finger and thumb. “Oh,” he said, glancing at my hair between his thick fingers. “I have plans, Lani. And every single one involves you.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and smacked his hand away from me. “Take a shower, Brett Walker. I can smell the manslut on you from here.”
“I’d rather smell like a manslut than a virgin.”
I inhaled sharply. The urge to step away from his incorrect…statement? Insult? Accusation?…was all too much, but I didn’t give into it.
No.
I did the dumb thing.
I moved into him further.
Until my breasts almost brushed his chest and I had to tilt my head back to look at him.
I laughed bitterly and smirked. “I don’t know if that was meant to be an insult, but just because you’re so far removed from normal human contact doesn’t mean I’m at the opposite side to you. I’m no whore, but I’m sure as hell no virgin. If this is the bullshit game you want to play, Brett, then fine. You should know one thing.”
“Mhmm?” he hummed, leaning in.
“I can play too,” I said in a low voice. My eyes were dead set on his. “And I could do things to you that would make you forget to pay me if I were a whore paid to fuck you to death.”
He grabbed my arm before I could turn and pulled me back to him. I took a deep breath in and steeled myself as his hot gaze collided with mine.
“Careful, Lani.” His voice was deep, husky, filled with a scarily real, lusty promise. “Or I might mistake that bravado for a fucking offer and take you up on it.”
I snatched my arm out of his, shoving the hot cup of coffee between us as my only means of defense. “Try it,” I warned it. “And you’ll never piss through your dick again, never mind fuck anyone with it.”
When he didn’t move or speak, I walked backward slowly, even though my heart was thumping crazily and was beating to the thick tune of, “Run, run, run, run.”
Brett simply smirked, scratched his finger down his jaw, and said, “See you at six. For dinner.”
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