Status Updates From The Prosecutor (Harlequin I...

She struck him. IN A COURTHOUSE. I mean, what the fuck?!?! What is with bizarro romanceland acting like physical violence of an adult woman on an adult man has no consequences whatsoever!?

Emma walked out of the restaurant's kitchen, untied her apron and shoved it into her tote bag. Her feet did the normal protest and she eyed one of the barstools. If she sat down, though, she wouldn't get up. She'd crash right there and let the stress of the day seep from her body. She'd known plenty of exhaustion in her life, but this heaviness, which slowed her steps and made her dream of sleeping for a month,

Zac pulled the phone from his ear. Stared at it a minute. His boss had just threatened his job. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?

If doing the right thing got him this garbage, why bother? He'd never considered himself an idealist when it came to politics and he knew there were times political maneuvering dictated the outcome of a case, but he'd never been pushed face-first into it.

Emma had been fighting this wall of

FIGHT

The author is using "epic fail" as a sentence and also I think she's using it incorrectly.

Blame it on the orgasms, as in multiples. Thanks to one Zachary Hennings, whom she couldn't seem to stop thinking about today. A total stud.

Eh. He didn't impress me much. Don't know what kind of sex you've grown accustomed to, though.

"Get naked, Zac. I'm a chick in need."

He cracked up, but did as he was told. How she loved a man who followed directions.

These two are morons for having sex. What an idiotic idea.

Assignment complete.

But was it the right thing? For the first time in his career, a career filled with emotional cases that he'd both won and lost, he found himself questioning his own judgment because he wanted to get laid. MORON.

Seated next to him at the long folding table, Emma sighed and the soft sound hit him square in the chest. He wanted her, no doubt about it. His problem was that he didn't just want

Somehow, she'd found safety in this man. Or maybe all the nights alone had simply made her think she'd found safety.

"I'm sorry. My mind is raging. But I love every second of kissing you. I'm alive again and that's a gift."

"When can I get a look at your file?"

"ZACHARY, you're so forward."

Again, he laughed. Those shifting lines are nonexistent now. "You don't want to go there with me, Emma. I can take dirty talk to a whole new level."

Promises, promises.

She hung up and stared at the ceiling. Her mother hadn't come down yet. Should she even tell her? Would witholding that information make her a horrible daughter? Or a humane one? Since Penny had taken their case, Mom's mood had lifted some. This news might send her spiraling back into depression.

And Emma wasn't sure she could handle that. Selfish? Yes. Right now, thought, with this latest development, she needed

He shifted his head, his lips hovering just over hers. And right then he decided that if they were being watched, he didn't give a damn.

He's a moron.

"Houses need maintenance."

"Yeah, but so do people."

I like how the author is making both the hero and heroine feel lust.

Although it's intensely unrealistic.

"I'm here because I don't want you going home by yourself. I'll follow you and make sure you don't have any unexpected visitors."

Earning mensch points.

Emma loved it. Every inch of it. The look on his face when he read the note, all rock-hard and vicious, showed Emma a side of him she hadn't seen before. He may have been the enemy, but he wanted to win fair and square. She appreciated that in him. Or maybe she was looking for something to like beyond how good his butt looked in track pants.

She seriously had to get her head in the game. This guy could keep

A smile crept across Emma's face. Obviously she had developed an affinity for conflict, for the clashing of wills. For WAR. Zac understood the intoxicating pull. No matter how gruesome the case, he experienced a natural high every time he stepped into a courtroom.

Cannot relate.

Emma gathered her apron and shoved the car door open. Her feet hit the pavement and she nearly groaned. Hauling trays all night had left her arms and back aching and, combined with her beat-up feet, she longed for her bed.

Nothing about waitressing was easy, but the money was good. Better than good since she'd gotten lucky and landed a job in an upscale steak place. Still, she craved the day when she'd go back

Lately it seemed as if she was always in a hurry to get somewhere while never really reaching the place she wanted to be. ... Emma sang along with the radio. She felt things were looking up. Even if the gray sky, in complete contrast to her mood, hung dull and lifeless, it wouldn't dampen her sunny mood.

At her touch, heat radiated through his gut. He was no saint and willing women weren't all that hard to come by when he put some effort into it, but he could honestly say he hadn't felt that kind of fire in a long time. Whether it was wishful thinking or simply wanting action, he didn't know, but he liked it.

Wanting action.

As a man who liked a challenge, he appreciated her ferocity. Her determination to find justice in a case that had more turns than a scenic drive. It didn't hurt that he found her easy on the eyes. Not in a flashy, made-up way, like a lot of the women he'd dated. Why he went for those women was no mystery and it was definitely nothing deep. Guys were guys and Zac supposed most enjoyed the company, among other

Plus, for some reason she believed him. Maybe it was his eyes and the way they snapped from hard to sparkly or the way his confidence displayed strength and a willingness to fight, but above all, Zac Hennings screamed of honor and truth.

You have to be joking...

The idea that she should have checked with Penny before talking to the prosecutor flashed through her mind. Maybe she'd been too hasty, but that had never stopped her before.

So... you're a moron...

As suspected, Zac was still at his desk, his big shoulders hunched over a legal pad as he took notes. A fierce longing - that black emptiness - tore at her. She'd always been drawn to men with big shoulders and the way her smaller body folded into the warmth and security of being held. Pfft. Right now she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out with a man, never mind been held.

Dwelling on it wouldn't help

Then again, he had that yacht-club look about him. His short, precisely combed blond hair and perfect bone structure just added to the patrician image. The only thing slightly ruffled about him was the unfastened top button on his shirt and his loose tie. The look fit him, however. Country-club rugged.

If she'd met him elsewhere, she'd have steered clear of him. In her experience, men who looked like that were