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OMG be prepared for sore ribs with Emma’s newest romcom! After a tequila filled night Aspen ends up in bed with her best friend Luke. And wah-wah, tequila gets the best of him and makes for a horrible mistake. Now mortified, Aspen fakes not remembering what happened to spare herself the embarrassment…but so does Luke! Cue the awkwardness! Aspen now has a dilemma: does she tell Luke the truth or leave him to his supposed memory ignorance? Her other best friend seems to think she needs to tell the truth. But Aspen doesn’t want to risk her friendship with Luke just to fix their mistake.

Luke cannot believe what happened. A night with Aspen and he’s an embarrassment to the virile male race. Tequila is not your friend in those intimate moments. But Aspen doesn’t remember their night…could that be a good thing? She doesn’t remember his embarrassing performance but he can’t seem to stop daydreaming what sober sex with Aspen could’ve been like. Another tequila night loosens Aspen up and her secret spills out…she LIED. She remembers it all and Luke isn’t wasting another chance.

Luke proves once and for all that tequila ruined his night and one sober time with Aspen is glorious. Crossing that line from friendship into a relationship is risky. But Luke believes they can survive the risk. After their twenty year friendship, they already know each other inside and out; all they have to add now is the romance portion. More nights together, a few actual dates, and Aspen is falling hard for Luke. Her trepidation at crossing the line with him dissipate as they take that final plunge and trust in their friendship as the foundation for a HEA.

Tequila + you best friend + your bedroom = um, whoopsie?

Tequila Tequila, an all-new hilarious standalone romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart is LIVE!!

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…