Piece of Work, an all-new sexy and hilarious romance from Staci Hart, is available NOW!


Marble isn’t the only thing that’s hard at this museum.

His body is as chiseled as Adonis. His lips are as sculpted as David. And his ego is the size of the Guggenheim.

You know the type—wolfish smile and the gravity of a black hole. The kind of man who sucks all the air from the room the second he enters it. My cocky boss thinks this internship was wasted on me, and he doesn’t hesitate to let me know.

But he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it to him. If I can stay away from his devil lips, that is. Lips that cut me down and kiss me in the same breath, leaving me certain he’s on a mission to ruin my life.

And maybe my heart.

Melanie’s Review:

It was like a flush rising from my toes to the crown of my head– slow at first then quickly escalating to a wild heat that seemed to spread across my body. A love story that is so much deeper than what the book cover could possibly convey. Staci Hart is not a new author to me and I’ve enjoyed so many of her books but I have to say that Piece of Work is by far my most favorite so far. I was completely blown away by how entirely well written and how well researched it was and as each page turned, the more gratifying the story became.

Rin Van de Meer is the epitome of the ugly duckling story we were all told as little kids. You see her bloom from a timid, quiet, and insecure college student and into the bold, intricate, and confident lady she was meant to become. Landing her dream internship at the MET, Rin makes quite a lackluster first impression towards her new boss (Bianca) and her boss’s boss (Court). In her too short jeans, ripped up sneakers, and mousy demeanor she is quickly dismissed but thanks to some amazing friends who won’t let her take “no” for an answer and a life changing shopping trip later, Rin sets out to change the preconceived notion people have of her. Armed with chic new clothes and a tube of red lipstick she begins to realize that hiding in the shadows was not something that she wanted anymore. She no wanted to be seen and seen she was.

Court Lyons had been badly burned in the past. Used for his name and the title he holds at the MET, he’s learned to keep people at a distance. It’s when he sees those beautiful, vibrant red lips and legs that seem to go on for days that his whole world is blown to bits. Court was staggered by the realization that this woman is the very same nervous, unconfident intern he once dismissed. But it wasn’t only Rin’s makeover that catches his attention – her intelligence and her expertise on the very same things that he lives and breathes for is ultimately what wins him over. The more time they spend together, the more tempting the whole situation becomes.

And let me just say… When these two art buffs give into their desires, their chemistry is a work of art on its own. A very erotic and sensual one at that. The heat that slowly simmered swiftly turned to burning hot. You guys… Wow, wow, wow! All the dirty talk and the getting’ down to business scenes were insanely, ridiculously, downright sexy. More than that, the connection they had saved them from their biggest fears—Rin’s fear of taking risks and believing her worth and Court’s fear of being able to trust anyone and accepting the fact that he indeed is enough to be loved outside of his name and stature.

Ms. Hart has so wonderfully incorporated a woman of color as her heroine and in my humble opinion something that is needed to be done more often. It gives women like myself the chance to see themselves on the pages of a romance too. I loved the message that just because a woman feels good about themselves in new clothes and makeup doesn’t make them shallow. Sometimes, that is exactly what we need. To look good in order to feel good. It’s a mechanism to making one realize just how priceless their worth is. Though the start was quite slow for me, I’m so glad I decided to continue to climb because once it picked up it was simply the best!



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He smirked and flipped up his sunglasses.


“You’re early,” I clipped.

“I would have had my assistant text you, but she’s currently bedridden.”

You could have texted me.”

“I didn’t have your number,” he said simply.


His eyes shifted to look behind me, and I turned to find my friends standing me in a row with my suitcase in front of them, my messenger bag on top, and fake smiles on all their faces, lips together, their judgment about as quiet as a foghorn.

“These your roommates?”

“Yup,” was all I said as I turned and took my suitcase, hugging each of them down the line with promises to text when we landed. And then I turned to Court, rolling my suitcase in front of me like like a riot shield.

I tried to pick it up to carry it over the threshold, but it was heavy, and before I could get far, he’d swept it out of my hands like it was a loaf of bread and not fifty pounds of mascara and shoes.

I waved at my friends, who offered encouraging smiles and hand gestures, and I closed that door, immediately regretting every decision I’d made to bring me to the moment I turned around.

He stood at the door to the backseat, holding it open for me like a gentleman, which I knew he was not. But the look on his face of regret and deference, under the hard shell of his brooding, was almost too much to bear.

So I did the only thing I could.

I ignored him.

I ignored his gorgeous lips as they tilted and the sleek cut of his jaw as I walked past him. I ignored the sight of his long legs as he climbed in next to me and the smell of him that made me want to grab him by the lapels of his jacket and bury my nose in his chest.

The driver took off, and I busied myself in my bag, looking for my headphones and book.

His eyes were on me. I pretended like I didn’t notice.

“You’re not wearing lipstick,” he stated.

Headphones, headphones, headphones. “It’s an international flight, Court. Of course I’m not wearing red lipstick for a ten hour flight.”

A pause. “Rin, I—”

Aha! I popped in my earbuds the second they were in hand.

His lips flattened, his face unamused. Rin, his lips said, but I smiled and shrugged, pointing to my ears.

“Noise canceling,” I said way too loud.

His chest rose and fell with a sigh I couldn’t hear—I’d already turned on music, a playlist we’d built the night before geared toward resisting douchery and unwanted-slash-totally-wanted advances—and he reached into his own bag, a leather affair at his feet, his hand disappearing into the bag and reappearing with a book, which he handed to me.

He watched me with his expression shrouded as I paused, my eyes on the offered book. An image of Penitent Magdalene by Tintoretto filled the cover, and I met his eyes, pulling my earbuds out by the cord.

“I thought you could use this. For your proposal,” he said, giving nothing away. “I…A colleague of mine wrote it, so if you have any questions, I can connect you. If you want.”

I took it from his hand, surprised and disarmed. “Thank you,” was all I said. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but closed it, and with a nod, he reached back into his bag for his own book. Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake.

I put my earbuds back in place, trying not to bite my lip, but it found its way between my teeth despite the effort at the sight of him sitting there, dressed like that, reading Margaret Atwood. After giving me a thoughtful gift, a book he knew I would want, one I would need for my dissertation.

Court Lyons made about as much sense to me as a scrambled up Rubik’s Cube.

I leaned against the door as I flipped through his gift, doing my best to sort through the rush of questions and confusion as Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s sang about being cheated by the opposite of love. And I found I knew exactly the feeling.

About the Author

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey.

From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.


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