Revenge is a dish best served cold. Which is a real problem when the attraction runs red-hot.
Best Served Cold, an all-new standalone romantic comedy from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Emma Hart is LIVE!
Trust me. I know. The only reason I decided to renovate my family’s ice-cream store was to serve up a sundae full of revenge for my a-hole ex who opened an ice-cream store right next to mine.
It was supposed to be simple.
Renovate. Reopen. Put his peachy butt out of business.
Until he decided to get under my skin—and broke my toe.
Now, I’m stuck with Chase in my store every day, helping me renovate. But he’s also in my head, and I’m spending a little too much time up against his abs.
Not that it’s the worst place to be.
But it doesn’t change anything. I still hate him, and I’m still going to get my revenge.
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It’s always interesting when I read a second chance romance where the hero and heroine break up and end up loathing one another for a variety of reasons with such reckless abandon that every interaction is a production – one that could easily turn into a three-ring circus or a WWE wrestling match, even if they’re merely fighting with words because readers are more than aware that scathing words are just as destructive and volatile as any physical encounter could be.
It’s kind of a shitshow when Raelynn Fortune and Chase Aaron go from being lovers to archenemies, and the fact that Chase hits Raelynn where it hurts, her family’s ice cream business, makes things even worse between them because even though Rae made a rash decision in breaking up with Chase, his revenge is something that could not only hurt Rae, but it could actually cost her, her livelihood, something she’s unwilling to let happen, even if it means getting her own revenge on the man who just might still own her heart.
The fact that readers get both Rae and Chase’s perspectives is key to understanding what’s going on inside their heads; these two have such big personalties their need to one up the other or at least get back at the other for something they did festers in their minds and forces them to unleash their own version of mayhem in extremely entertaining and outrageous ways. But when everything is said and done, these two have so much to sift through and the fact that they are one another’s competition when it comes to their businesses makes their past relationship and their present one heck of a sticky situation and not just because they serve ice cream.
I have to say that each time Chase made a clueless comment or seemed oblivious to the true state of things between him and Rae, I didn’t know whether it made him cute and endearing or if it made him seem like a guy who just doesn’t ‘get it’ when it comes to relationships and issues that occur when both people aren’t on the same page. Both Chase and Rae have made plenty of mistakes in the two years it’s been since they broke up and Chase took it upon himself to work against Rae instead of with her, and while it wasn’t his plan to drift even further away from Rae, it’s clearly going to take some ingenuity on Chase’s part to make amends with the woman who he wants as his partner, not his adversary.
Emma Hart continues to showcase her comedic prowess and her ability to create snarky heroines who know how to hold their own amidst the chaotic nature of their lives. The hijinks that occur in Best Served Cold due to Chase and Rae’s vendetta against one another and the choices they make are both outrageous and risky, but there’s also an emotional pull in this story as these two attempt to figure out where things went wrong between them and if there’s any hope for a reconciliation. Be ready for one heck of a wild ride with Rae and Chase, but it’s worth it when these two figure out that things might best be served hot rather than cold.
4.5 Poison Apples
“And there goes my water.” Rae got up and dumped the contents of her glass into the sink. “Thanks for that.”
I shrugged. “Can’t drill without dust, babe.”
“Can’t drill without dust, babe,” she parroted in a high-pitched voice. “Whatever. You can drill without contaminating my water.”
“Remember who’s doing who a favor here.”
She cocked one hip and put her hand on it. “The only reason you’re still here is because I bent over an hour ago and you saw my underwear.”
I couldn’t help the twitch of my lips. “That may be a contributing factor.”
“Oh, please. You keep staring at me just in case I flash you again.”
“Actually, I’m staring at you because you look hot as fuck in that dress.” I paused. “But I won’t deny that you flashing me would be a bonus.”
Rae rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to you. You’re ridiculous.”
“You—” She stopped and pointed at me. “You are. You are. You!” she growled and stomped into the kitchen.
I choked back a laugh. “I am delightful, handsome, and phenomenal in bed!”
She came back within seconds. “If you’re trying to make me fall in love with you again, you’re failing dismally.”
“Technically, I’m not trying. I’m such a delight you’ll fall back in love with me anyway.”
“You’re a raging egomaniac.”
“And you are a beautiful ray of happiness.”
“And you—wait, what?” She frowned. “When did this get turned around on me? Stop complimenting me. You don’t compliment me when I insult you.”
I leaned against the wall, still holding onto the drill. “All right, you’re a miserable little shit. Is that better?”
Her lips twitched as she tried not to laugh. “No. You’re supposed to compliment me even when I tell you not to.”
“I’m not falling for your female psychobabble.” I pushed off the wall and looked for the next ‘x.’ “Compliment yourself. I have no problem doing it.”
“I compliment myself all the time. Have you seen my boobs?”
I shot her a side-eye. “Yes. I’m also fond of those.”
Rae folded her arms across her chest. It did nothing to further her cause of pretending to be annoyed. All it did was push her tits up.
“If you’re trying to make me stop looking at your tits, you’re doing a bad job.”
She looked down and immediately dropped her arms. “Yeah, well, shut up.” She sniffed. “How many holes are left?”
I scanned the wall. “Three. You should try one. It won’t kill you.”
She shifted. “No offense, but I don’t know if I trust you around me with tools.”
“I wasn’t even near you when you dropped the scraper on your foot. I won’t drop the drill. I promise.” I paused. “If anything, I’m the one who should be worried given that you’ve already dropped the drill once.”
“That was an accident.”
“Exactly.” I pushed off the wall. “Come on. You might learn something.”
“I doubt it,” she mumbled, wiping her hands off on her dress and coming to stand at my side. “Okay, let’s humiliate me.”
I laughed and drew her into my body. She nestled against me as if she were made for me. Her ass curved perfectly into my hips, and the gentle sweep of her back flattened against my stomach and chest like a missing puzzle piece.
“Wrap your hand around the handle,” I said, raising her hand to it. “And hold onto it. Tight.”
“I think I can figure that out.”
“Remember who dropped the drill.”
She sniffed. “I didn’t expect the wall to be so hard.”
“Rae, it’s fucking brick. Not marshmallow. What the hell did you expect?”
About Emma Hart
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.
Connect with Emma
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