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.
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.)
“Noelle,” Drake calls after me, narrowly avoiding the main door slamming in his face.
“Hold them,” I order when Grecia holds my messages out.
She freezes as I storm past her and up the stairs.
“Later!” I yell at Mike, jamming my key into the hole and turning it violently.
“Noelle!” Drake finally growls.
I shove the door open so harshly that it slams into the wall behind it and then fix him with my gaze. “In there. Now.”
His chest heaves, and a long moment passes between us as he stares at me, both Mike and Bekah staring at us from their office doors.
“Did I not make that clear, Detective?” I tilt my head to the side. “Now means now, not in five fucking minutes.”
Drake’s in front of me in two long strides. “Watch your damn attitude, Noelle,” he warns me quietly, his breath skating across my cheek. “You might get away with sassin’ your family, but you won’t with me.”
“When you’re on my property, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” I lower my voice. “And you might not realize it, but I’ve been shitting myself ever since I saw that body yesterday, so unless you want me to rip out a pair of stilettos and tear you a new asshole until you’re forced to tell me what I need to know, you’ll drag your ass into my office.”
“Another threat.” He whips his handcuffs out and dangles them in my face. “Want me to use ’em, ma’am?”
I step closer to him, moving the cupcake box out of the way of our bodies, and fix him with a stare that I know is as potent as his. “I dare you to try, sir.”
We stand off against each other, barely a few inches separating our bodies. My heart is thumping in my chest, and hell, I’m turned on. My lower stomach is burning, and the heat is seeping between my legs because all I can think about is Detective Drake Nash putting me in handcuffs.
He lowers the restraints and attaches them to his belt again. Then he nudges me away from the door and slams it shut with his foot. I open my mouth to speak, but he grabs my arm and spins me against the solid wood surface. I gasp and drop the cupcake box as my back collides with the door and his chest presses against mine.
“Don’t ever dare me, Noelle,” he whispers, his tone thick with a seduction that crawls over my skin and joins the heat between my legs. “Because if I get you in cuffs, there’ll be no trying about it. You’ll be beggin’ for it, babe. Keep getting up close and personal and that’ll be sooner rather than later.”
“You wish,” I breathe. Yes. I do. I damn well do.
He dips his head so his mouth is hovering above mine, and every breath coats my lips. “I couldn’t give a fuck if we’re smack-damn in the middle of a murder investigation. You keep pushin’ me the way you are and I will take you. I’m not afraid to give you a real reason to shout my name.”
“You give me a hundred reasons every day.”
“’Bout time I gave you a good one, don’t you think?”
Good logic. Bad execution. “No. I don’t. I think you should tell me what I need to know.”
“I just did,” he murmurs.
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.