If there is one thing that can seduce me more than a hot body and all the sexy times that come with it is a snappy wit and finally tuned intelligence. I guess technically that is two things but for the sake of things let’s boil it down to BRAINS. It’s great and all to have eye candy but sooner or later you are going to have to look at your piece of heiney and talk to them and if they can’t get my mental vajay-jay stoked then it rolls over falls asleep and with boredom comes the inevitable shopping for a new plaything. Smarts are what make good partners hawt, hott, OUCH… sizzle! This goes for everything. Friends, lovers, books and people who want things from me. Word to the wise: Entertain me if you want something from me. I’m playful and appreciate banter, trivia, informality and originality. If you send me an email like you are emailing the CIA, I know you’ve never visited my website.
Alison Bliss is my new favorite author of this five minutes! She will probably remain [a] favorite, but for this moment in time I am using the specific article [the] because this book made me elevate her to Masteress of the LOL, Queen of the HAHA’s and High Priestess of the I-Just-Snorted-Beverage-Out-My-Nose! (Why is it that men are the only one’s that can be masters and women have to be mistresses it actually makes little sense because we don’t say Mister and Mistress. It’s too freaking early to seek etymology and I don’t give a hairball) I hadn’t been prepared for this book to be the tickler it was and I was pleasantly surprised and happy to get to read it early! TA, Entangled–y’all are peaches! Oh and just so you know this is Masteress Alison’s first pubbed book and it doesn’t taste like chicken AT ALL.
Emily Foster has had the crappiest birthday evah! Her BFF’s plan to take her for a celebratory night clubbing and land her a birthday slap and tickle end with her witnesses a mob hit. But that is only the bloody icing on the difficult night. Before hand she runs into a sexy weasel, jerk who ‘helps’ her deflect the attention of a creeper by playing a beau a bit too convincingly. Mister Mysterious liplocks and then cuts and runs. To her misery her next run in happens to be when she falls at his feet.
By the time I noticed the step up in the floor, it was already too late. I tripped and reached for the closest thing to me, which happened to be a man. Trying to catch myself, I had an intimate moment with the bulge in his pants on the way down. The floor punched me in the face but the pain was slight compared to the mortifying beating my pride had just taken.
Two seconds after I hit the floor, I decided to stay there. I wasn’t sure if it was because I physically couldn’t get up, or mentally didn’t want to. The man I’d felt up lifted me with ease, stood me upright, and held me until I steadied myself. Mortified, I refused to look up until I heard him ask, “Are you okay?”
No! It can’t be.
My eyes shot up, looking directly into his, and I stopped breathing. It was the hunky weasel with the steely gray eyes. If I had to embarrass myself in front of someone, why did it have to be him? Where in the hell is Sergio when you need him?
The hunk smiled as if he read my mind. “I always wanted a girl to fall head over heels for me.”
I stood motionless and tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound stupid. “Well, next time I’m near your crotch, I’ll be sure to bring my knee pads.” Nope. That wasn’t it. At least six guys turned their heads toward us and sucked in their breath.
Emily and Jake are two of the most frictiony-ish characters I have ever had the pleasure of reading and it was a joy in my heart to see them aggravate one another to distraction. Jake is the ultimate in cocky, controlling, got-it-handled, go to guy and I loved witnessing his meltdowns when he encounters Emily’s complete and absurd lack of impulse control, pig headedness, flippant tongue and plain ol’ childish neener neener. They are fabulous as a couple and one of my absolute favorites of the entire year.
Let me jump back a moment to the actual story because I’m gushing about the characterization and leaving you a little head scratching about the plot. Mr. Weasel Jerk (aka Jake Ward) is at the club that night to get to the men of the crime syndicate. Emily is a hitch in the works and when he sees her fleeing from the private area of the club in fear he tries to protect her and get her to safety. This is just the first in a long list of times that the two erupt in flames. I give Emily BOD here because she doesn’t know Jake from Adam at this point. Throughout the rest of the book Jake is attempting to keep his little wild, combative bird in a shabby, gilded cage for her own protection. The thing is that Emily is a wild bird and while she wants to live she likes to fly. Birds need to fly. These to ruffle and feathers also fly.
“What are these?”
“Fish balls,” Hank said dipping one in tartar sauce and taking a bite.
“Seriously? I didn’t know fish had–”
Jake clamped his hand over my mouth and politely excused us before dragging me away from the table. In the living room, he glared at me with exasperation. “What’s your problem?”
“Mine? What’s yours? I’m sure they’ve heard the word balls before. Hell, I bet your uncle even has a pair.”
“Damn it, Emily. I don’t want to think about my uncle’s balls before I eat,” Jake said, crinkling his nose at me.
“Well neither do I, but I was making a point.”
Jake shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you have an issue with censorship.”
Read Rules of Protection you will love it, kiss it and want to take it home with you. Alison Bliss will be your new favorite author for this five minutes! Hey, Alison, whens the next Tangled in Texas book?
Purchase Rules of Protection:
Rules of Protection Excerpt:
I caught him eyeing me from across the room.
He was tall, dark, and…well, interested. I couldn’t get a good enough look to see if he was handsome. Although dim lighting obscured his face, it highlighted the thick, gold chain around his neck and ridiculously huge diamond stud in his ear.
Nestled in downtown Chicago, The Jungle Room buzzed with flashy, well-lubricated businessmen with oversized wallets and scantily clad women with oversized racks. They circled each other like vultures, waiting to see who’d fall onto their backs first. It appeared the men were winning—a form of upscale prostitution.
Gina sat beside me at the bar, encouraging me to do the flirty eye thing with Shadow Man. “It’s your twenty-eighth birthday. Everyone should get laid on their birthday. What better present to give yourself?”
“I can give myself an orgasm.”
Gina laughed. “Not the same.”
I shrugged. “Depends on the guy. Besides, I don’t need birthday sex. I can hardly see him. He’s probably ugly.”
“It’s a one-night stand. Only thing that matters is the size of his—”
“Then pretend it’s your birthday!” I downed my cosmopolitan and spun the stool around. “Bathroom break. Keep an eye out for Dale.”
I followed the hallway to the restrooms. A line formed outside, but moved fast. Two women stepped in behind me, giggling like teenagers. I half-assed listened to them when someone grasped my elbow.
I immediately recognized the jewelry.
The man was 100 percent Italian Stallion, sporting a tight zipper shirt and black hair slicked back over his ears. He was around my age with a decent face—definitely not ugly like I’d thought—and he was tall and nicely built. Actually, he wasn’t bad looking at all. Maybe Gina was on to something with this birthday sex idea.
“Hey, sweetness. Saw you eyeing me back there.” He looked me up and down, licking his lips. “Now that I’m here, what are your other two wishes?”
Oh, jeez. Did he have to open his mouth? I hate men who start a conversation using cocky, sexist remarks. They come off as piggish jerks.
“I wasn’t eyeing you. I was…uh, looking for someone.”
“Well, you found me.”
“No, I mean someone else…the guy I’m with.”
Okay, so I lied. Dale hadn’t arrived yet, and even if he had, no one would believe he was my boyfriend. Ever. I didn’t have the right equipment Dale’s sexual preference gravitated toward. But this guy didn’t need to know that.
“The name’s Sergio. How about I buy you a drink, honey?” He rubbed a finger down my arm as I stared at his weird girly hands.
“No thanks,” I said, moving away.
“Aw, come on. I’ll wait for you, then we can go get that drink.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t.”
He grinned as if I had somehow encouraged him and leaned against the wall. “No problem. I don’t mind waiting.”
What the fuck? Is he deaf?
“No, really, I can’t. My stomach’s upset and I… I’m going to be in here for quite a while.”
The two girls next to me made faces at each other, stepped out of line, and walked away. Oh, great. Did I just make them think I had diarrhea? Sadly enough, it didn’t deter Sergio.
“Whatcha drinking tonight?” he asked, still not giving up.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Pepto Bismol.”
A woman stepped out of the bathroom, and I ran in before the door could shut. I didn’t know what was worse— me pretending to have diarrhea or Sergio not caring that I did. Gross.
Momentarily cornered, I tousled my hair, washed my hands twice while singing “Happy Birthday” to myself, and then reapplied my makeup. Hard to believe it was my birthday, and I was spending it hiding in a public bathroom eating a Tootsie Roll I found in the bottom of my purse.
I even realized something while in there. There isn’t much to do in a bathroom to occupy your time—unless, of course, you actually have the shits.
I’d just finished chewing the chocolate candy when I poked my head out the door. Yes! He was gone. I hurried down the hall and rounded the corner, but Sergio stood at the nearby bar. I ducked back into the corridor, hoping he hadn’t seen me.
I rubbed my hand over my eyes and breathed out. “Christ.”
Then a smooth, deep voice asked, “You okay?”
It startled me at first, thinking Sergio had found me. I pulled my hand away from my face reluctantly and gazed up at a man with wavy dark brown hair. He was tall—probably a few inches over six feet—and wore black slacks and a white dress shirt. His steel gray eyes pierced mine, making it hard to form a coherent thought, much less breathe.
When I didn’t answer, he asked again. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Um, I… I’m fine.”
“Let me guess, avoiding someone?”
My sluggish brain finally caught up, and I recalled hiding from Sergio. “You could say that.”
“I just did,” he responded, a hint of southern twang fortifying his voice. “Pull the boyfriend card. It usually works on us clowns.”
“I tried, but this guy is more persistent than most. My friends are somewhere on the other side of the bar, and I’m tired of hiding in the bathroom.”
The man glanced at his watch. “Tell you what, if you’re still here when I come out, I’ll escort you across the room.”
“Best offer I’ve had all night.”
His eyes scanned my black miniskirt, stopping on my bare legs. “Somehow I doubt that.” He turned and walked toward the men’s bathroom.
I blew out the large breath I’d been holding and resisted the urge to loosen a button on my blouse. Sergio or no Sergio, I planned to stay put until he came back.
Okay, so I’m a hypocrite.
Sergio’s remarks and lingering looks came off way more threatening than the new guy’s did. Tall, Dark, and Delicious was virtually harmless and particularly flattering. It helped that he hadn’t approached me with a line; he was more interested in helping… Ah, damn. Men are such weasels.
The guy played me. Of course.
He knew if he showed concern for my well-being, I’d drop my guard. That’s why he did it. Sadly enough, it almost worked. After all, he was no threat; just a gentleman trying to help out a lady. Well, screw him! He could pull the hero crap on some other unsuspecting girl. I waited for him to come out to tell him to his face. But Sergio rounded the corner first.
“There you are, sugar. I wondered if you’d fallen in.” Sergio handed me a shot glass filled with a pink liquid. “I got your Pepto, but I had to talk to three bartenders before I could get your order filled.”
Seriously? Bartenders make a shot called Pepto Bismol?
I hadn’t known it at the time, but what a lucky stroke of genius that was. Sergio must’ve thought it was a drink all along and hadn’t realized I was a smartass.
The men’s bathroom door opened behind me, and heavy footsteps approached. I was still irritated the douchebag had used a diversion tactic to hit on me, but the last thing I wanted was him to stroll up and ask me what I was drinking. It was one thing to let Sergio think I had an upset stomach, but it was a whole other thing to share that false information with the hunky weasel.
I threw my head back, downed the shot in one large gulp, and handed the empty glass back to Sergio. “Wait a minute,” I said. “That wasn’t—”
Two large hands captured my waist, spinning me sideways with dizzying speed, and a sharp, assertive mouth sheared the rest of the words from my lips. The stupid weasel was kissing me. I hadn’t expected it, and it only furthered my irritation. I’d have to play along to make it look good. Either that or I’d be stuck with Sergio the rest of the night.
Damn. I hate weasels.
Begrudgingly, I kissed him back, but only to make it believable. At least that’s what I told myself. If he wanted a show, then that’s exactly what he was going to get. I leaned into him, curled my arms around the back of his neck, and moaned softly.
Immediately, his lips stopped moving against mine, and his body became rigid. I thought it was the end of the match, and we would each return to our respective corners. With me being the winner and all.
Boy, was I wrong!
The moment I began to back away, he firmed his grip on my waist and parted my lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. No, actually, it wasn’t a kiss, more like a molestation of my mouth. Who was I to complain, though? It was good. Really good.
My fingers slid through his hair. His tongue touched mine, and a fiery sensation rocketed through my entire body. Involuntarily, I shivered, and it set him off. His thumbs dug into my hips as he pulled me tighter against his growing erection. I gasped at his hardness and, remembering where we were, fought the urge to touch it.
A bathroom hallway in a packed nightclub wasn’t where I wanted to partake in a public display of heavy petting. I must’ve surprised him when I responded to his kiss, but it all happened so fast I didn’t have time to contemplate his motivation. Nor did I care to. Sergio had to be standing there with wide eyes and an open mouth, but I didn’t want to stop long enough to check.
When I finally pushed the weasel away, he grunted in protest, but didn’t stop me. Panting softly, I glanced around and noted the empty hallway. Sergio had disappeared.
I wasn’t sure what to say. My brain shifted gears but had trouble getting up to full speed. So I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Did you wash your hands?”
A patronizing grin contorted his face, but he ignored my question and asked one of his own. “Why do you taste like Pepto Bismol…and chocolate?”
My cheeks flushed with heat. “Long story, but it doesn’t matter. Why’d you do that?”
“You kissed me. Why?”
“Long story, but it doesn’t matter.” He winked and then walked away.
His abrupt departure surprised me, but I was outraged he didn’t ask for my name or phone number. Hell, he didn’t even ask me to go home with him. As if he actually intended to save me from Sergio after all. And I never thanked him.
Back in the bathroom, I composed myself, fanning my face with a paper towel. I was hot, but it wasn’t the kind of heat staved off by air conditioning. Only time—or possibly an orgasm—would cure the fever under my skin.
After a few minutes, I strolled back into the main room more in control of the brain fog that had overwhelmed me. I spotted Gina and Dale walking in the opposite direction from me on the other side of the dance floor. I yelled to get their attention, but the music was too loud.
Weaving through the crowd, I waved frantically and yelled again. “Gina! Dale! Hey, over here!”
By the time I noticed the step up in the floor, it was already too late. I tripped and reached for the closest thing to me, which happened to be a man. Trying to catch myself, I had an intimate moment with the bulge in his pants on the way down.
The floor punched me in the face, but the pain was slight compared to the mortifying beating my pride had just taken. Two seconds after I hit the floor, I decided to stay there. I wasn’t sure if it was because I physically couldn’t get up, or mentally didn’t want to.
The man I’d felt up lifted me with ease, stood me upright, and held me until I steadied myself. Mortified, I refused to look up until I heard him ask, “Are you okay?”
No! It can’t be.
My eyes shot up, looked directly into his, and I stopped breathing. It was the hunky weasel with the steely gray eyes. If I had to embarrass myself in front of someone, why did it have to be him? Where in the hell is Sergio when you need him?
The hunk smiled as if he read my mind. “I always wanted a girl to fall head over heels for me.”
I stood motionless and tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound stupid. “Well, next time I’m near your crotch, I’ll be sure to bring my knee pads.” Nope. That wasn’t it. At least six guys turned their heads toward us and sucked in a breath.
A young Hispanic guy leaned over, flexing his eyebrows. “Damn, girl, where have you been all my life?”
“Out of it,” I sneered. “Now, leave me alone. I’m talking to the weasel.” Disappointed with our exchange, the guy turned away and shrugged to his buddies.
I turned my attention back to the man who lifted me from the floor and noticed he glared with one offended eyebrow raised. “The weasel?”
My cheeks flushed. “It’s what I dubbed you, since I didn’t know your name.”
“Why a weasel?” He paused. “Wait… You thought I was hitting on you back there?”
The confusion on his face changed to humor as he shook his head. “Nope.”
I guess I should’ve been relieved, but I wasn’t. Actually, I was insulted and…well, pissed off. “Why not?”
“Is that a trick question, where no matter what I say I’m going to be wrong?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Damn,” he said, grabbing my arm and jerking me away from the crowd. “Why are you yelling?”
“Because I’m mad at you.”
“You don’t even know me. Do you have a split personality disorder or something?”
I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes. “You’re a weasel and a jerk!”
My outburst made him laugh. A lot. When he finally got himself under control, he grinned. “Look, I get that you have this head-turning ability and like to stand out in a crowd, but I don’t.”
“You think I turn heads?”
“Sweetheart, a man would have to be blind or stupid not to look.” He smiled again. Damn, I wished he’d stop doing that. “Definitely a looker, but that makes you trouble. I don’t need the unwanted attention you crave.”
“I’d swear there’s an insult somewhere in there.”
“Darlin’, if I insult you, you’ll be the first to know. Now point out your friends. I’ll see to it you get to them safely.”
Copyright © 2014 by Alison Bliss. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
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