A Few More Rules Read online

  A Few More Rules

  Dorothy F. Shaw

  Contents

  Praise for Dorothy F. Shaw

  Blurb

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  Also by Dorothy F. Shaw

  Stripped Bounty

  Sneak Peek into Stripped Bounty

  Red Queen Publications

  Praise for Dorothy F. Shaw

  “Strong women and the men who love them, sassy, sexy dialogue and a deliciously emotional roller coaster ride -- these are the hallmarks of a Dorothy F. Shaw romance!”—Megan Hart, New York Times Best Selling author of Tear You Apart

  “Unworthy Heart reminded me of what I love about the romance genre.”—The Book Tart

  “Unworthy Heart by Dorothy F. Shaw made me think, made my heart happy, made me tear up and made me sigh in happiness. Shaw combines heat with heart almost flawlessly. I cannot wait for the follow-up books in this series.”—Romance Novel News

  “[Dorothy’s] writing style is liquid, allowing the reader to easily drop into the story and intake it all.”—Ramblings of a Young PR Girl on Unworthy Heart

  “…an excellent piece of work, but then again, everything Dorothy writes is.”—Deneale’s Book Buzz on Unworthy Heart

  “If Unworthy Heart is any indication to what we can expect in The Donnellys series, then we should be in for a lot of enjoyment…You won’t want to miss out on this remarkable family.”—Beyond the Valley of the Books

  “I fell in love with the series from book one…Grab your copy and buckle up for the ride. Dorothy Shaw doesn’t do anything half way.”—Beyond the Valley of the Books on Defensive Heart

  “Holy smokes can Dorothy Shaw write a freaking awesome sex scene…”—Wicked Good Reads on Defensive Heart

  “Defensive Heart by Dorothy F. Shaw is a good read which gives credence to the statement that opposites do attract.”—Harlequin Junkie

  “Defensive Heart is a book that will make readers stop and think.”—Romance Novel News

  “As usual Dorothy gives you a real life perspective. Definitely worth the read, and truly enjoyable.”—Deneale’s Book Buzz on Defensive Heart

  “Even though there is plenty of sex in Shattered Heart, the author does not neglect the storyline at all – packing it full of romance, danger, trauma, healing, laughs, and the Donnelly family.”—Crystal’s Many Reviewers

  “Shattered Heart is an emotional tear jerker of a romance that had me reaching for the tissues on more than one occasion.”—Romance Novel News

  “This woman can put love, sex, and passion in every word, and make you feel the wind blow across your face if she writes it to do so. Trust me. Dorothy F. Shaw is and always will be, an amazing writer.”—Deneale’s Book Buzz on Shattered Heart

  “Shane and Cyn’s journey to each other is at times incredibly frustrating, sweetly touching, laugh out loud funny and burn up the sheets sexy.”—Got Romance Reviews on Shattered Heart

  “Wow! What a sexy, steamy story that kept me reading from the first page.”—Crystal’s Many Reviewers on Stripped Bounty

  “If you are into vanilla, forget this book! Characters larger than life and sex to die for. Dorothy F. Shaw painted a canvas that is both intriguing and close to hard core.”—Amazon Reviewer on Stripped Bounty

  “Epic story! Rosie and Badger are amazing characters that pull you into the story. The sex is HOT and the ending is perfect!”—Book Addicts PR on Stripped Bounty

  “I like to know the little things. Dorothy provided those little things and fed them to me slowly.”—Amazon Reviewer on Stripped Bounty

  “Stripped Bounty is a very dirty and mildly kinky erotic romance that kept me glued to my e-reader.”—Romance Novel News

  Sometimes getting on your knees leads down a path of salvation…and happily ever after.

  Finding “the one” is never easy for anybody, but Bethany Carlson hasn’t even bothered looking for hers. Especially since finding a true submissive male is something that only exists in her deepest fantasies. That is until she meets Rig.

  Rig Jenkins, a former college football hopeful turned strip club bouncer, is out for a night to escape the grind of daily life…and the past he can never quite forget. He isn’t looking for anyone or anything, but when he catches a glimpse of Bethany, and her girl-next-door appearance, he can’t help but want to know more.

  Bethany knows immediately that Rig is the sort of man she could only dream of—strong, submissive and meant only for her. But is Rig strong enough to let her lead him to the place he was always meant to be?

  Dedication

  For all the women who need to be in control, and for the men who are strong enough to beg them to be…

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my sweet Bethany, for allowing me the use of your name and image for the inspiration of the heroine. She’s not you, of course, and you are the furthest thing from a female Dominant, but that’s why it’s called fiction! Much love, honey.

  A big thank you to author Sidda Lee Rain! As usual, Momma, you carry me through as my writing sprint partner in crime! I got nothing but naked love for you!

  Super big thank you to author Megan Hart for beta reading this little novella and letting me know it didn’t suck. And also, the title suggestion. My writing slump was long and deep and I’m grateful it’s over. You’re always reminding me that my writing doesn’t suck…and this go-round, I really needed to hear it. And for that, I am eternally in your debt. Love you, bebe!

  Chapter One

  “Be right with you!”

  Rig Jenkins glanced to his right as a petite bar waitress brushed by him in such a rush, the only thing he caught a glimpse of was her back. And also her bottom—and a mighty fine glimpse it was. As Rig took his seat on a stool at the bar, he also took a little more time to behold her backside before she turned and ran off to another table.

  “What can I get you?”

  Rig turned and faced the tall brunette, wearing more makeup than he preferred to see on women, behind the bar. Clearing his throat, he glanced over the booze lining the shelves behind her. Whiskey and Bourbon was definitely a thing in this place. There had to be at least a hundred and fifty plus different kinds. A good mix of craft and domestic beer on tap too. He smiled at the brunette. “Bear with me, ma’am. ‘Lotta choices.”

  She smiled, her glossy red lips shining in the overhead spotlights. “Craving anything specific?”

  Rig rubbed his palms together. He was craving plenty, but what that was exactly, he wasn’t about to get into with her. “Guessing I’ll keep it simple tonight. Shot of Jack and a Coors Light bottle, please?”

  She winked. “Coming right up.”

  As she went to work filling his order, Rig glanced around the table area in search of the petite waitress who’d rushed past him not three minutes earlier. She was off in the far corner, nodding—a soft smile on her face, as a guy, sporting a big belly and cowboy hat, talked to her. Though Rig could only see her profile, it was obvious she was a real pretty girl.

  “Here you go.”

  Rig turned his attention to the shot and beer now sitting before him on the polished wood bar top. And then the smiling, brunette. She was pretty too, but more on the too high maintenance side of the scale, which added up to definitely not his type of pretty. He nodded and lifted the shot. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “So polite.” She tipped her head to one side and tucked a lock of her long hair behind an ear. “Name’s Connie. If you
need anything else…anything at all, don’t hesitate to holler.”

  Her eyes went soft and all doe-eyed. The silvery shadow coating her eyelids sparkled from the overhead lights as she made a show of blinking all slow and alluring.

  Rig smirked and tossed the shot back. Yep, all done up and definitely not his type. And even though he saw tits and ass on a daily basis working security at Deuce’s Cabaret, Connie’s cleavage pushed up from the tight leather vest she wore was nothing to shake a stick at.

  They just weren’t a pair he’d choose to shake his stick at.

  With a smile on her face, Bethany Carlson shifted her hips side to side, listening to one of the regulars prattle on about something with his work, and people not doing their jobs, and yada-yada, blah, blah…only he could save the day because of how smart he was.

  The band was gearing up to start, and as the guy paused in his—look at me, I’m just so amazing—story to sip his drink, Bethany took it as her cue to get moving. “You need another, Tom?”

  “Absolutely!” He smiled, his full round face appearing rounder.

  She didn’t want to be rude, truly. She was raised better than that. Instead, she smiled, she nodded, and did her best to appear interested, while at the same time figuring out a way to move along and tend to her other customers. Smile, nod. Smile, nod…rinse, lather, repeat. “Coming right up!”

  On her way back to the waitress station located at the end of the bar, another customer snagged her arm and asked for a refill and a menu. Then another requested their tab—

  Thursday night at The Whiskey Barrel. Ladies night and always busy. But busy was good for Bethany’s wallet. Plus, the crowd favorite, a local band called Zona Road, provided a full play list of country cover songs and did one hell of a job belting them out.

  The patrons, a mix of old and young country danced until their hearts were content on the small dance floor, and Bethany navigated in and around them and the others surrounding the tables, keeping everyone’s drink card full.

  After calling out her order to Connie, she closed out the tab for the customer who’d asked, pulled the pen she’d stuck in the bun at the back of her head free, and laid it in the bill-folder ready for signing. Stepping away, she delivered it to where it needed to go, grabbed a couple of empties off the table, promised another bill to a customer and rushed back to the bar.

  Hustling from one customer to the next, making sure they all had what they needed, was the name of the game. Though it kept the tips rolling in, which is what she needed most, a bonus benefit was it also helped keep her ass at the size she much preferred it to be too.

  With a menu tucked under one arm, the new bill-folder under the other and drinks in both hands, Bethany spun to head off and make her deliveries— And collided with a rather large patron passing in front of her.

  “Shoot!” The trickle of cold liquid slid down her hands and forearms, and she instinctively shot her hips back in attempt to keep the spillage from hitting her bare legs.

  The guy grabbed her upper arm. “Oh, damn. You okay?”

  “Yeah. All good, just need a towel.” She glanced up, ready to reassure him with an easy smile…and lost her breath. My, oh my. Before she realized what was happening, he’d snagged a bar towel from the stack next to the waitress station, took one of the drinks from her hand, and began cleaning her up.

  Bethany stood dumbstruck, taking in his features. My word, he’s beautiful. And tall, so tall. The rough rub of the stiff cotton towel on her forearm snapped her out of her momentary drooling-over-a hot-guy stupor and she slipped the rag from his hand. “Thank you, I’m okay.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m real sorry for plowing into you like that, ma’am.”

  “No harm—a tremor ran through her—done.” Did he…ma’am? The sound of the word, in his deep tone of voice and slight southern accent, had heat radiating from her lower abdomen through her limbs.

  Working as a bar waitress these past couple of years, Bethany had been addressed a thousand different ways. Honey, baby, sweetheart, miss, dear, sweetie, even cutie…but never ma’am. Apparently “ma’am” birthed a fire inside her so hot, it turned her blood to burning lava unlike anything ever had before.

  Wow, she more than liked, if not loved the sensations, as well as the mental and emotional responses running rampant through every inch of her body, but hell if she had any idea why she was reacting this way.

  In an effort to distract herself, even if only a little, Bethany finished the clean up job. When she was done, she tossed the towel aside and did her best to put a lid on the vibrations still ping-ponging around her insides. She cleared her throat in order to talk and not sound like a complete doofus. “I’ll take that drink back now.”

  With a slight shake of his head and a sexy smile arching his too perfect lips, he glanced away from her for a heartbeat, and then met her gaze again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Heat rose up Bethany’s neck and face, and she thought for sure she was the color of a bright red apple. Good grief. He stepped closer and the scent of clean soap filled her lungs…and her knees went loose.

  The warmth radiating off his big, muscular body surrounded her and every inch of her skin tingled in response. And then a shiver raced down her spine. Unable to stop herself, Bethany tilted her head back to keep eye contact and let out a sigh. Gorgeous smile…

  The urge to tell him to get on his knees plowed through Bethany’s brain with a force so severe, she sucked in a breath.

  Before the words had a chance to manifest, the feel of the cool glass hit her palm and Bethany tore her gaze away long enough to grasp the drink in her hand so she didn’t drop it. Catching his eyes again, she couldn’t stop a smile from arching her lips—not that she wanted to stop it though. “Thanks.” She shrugged as relief spilled through her that she hadn’t blurted out a command she’d never in her life given before. “Gotta go deliver these.”

  Another moment passed, the tension between them thick as molasses, before he nodded and stepped aside. Instantly, Bethany felt the absence of his big body as if he’d been wrapped around her but suddenly let her go and pulled away. An almost feral craving clawed at her insides to have the heat of him around her again.

  Which was crazy!

  Aside from when he grabbed her arm, their bodies hadn’t even touched!

  Stupid crazy!

  Frowning at the unexpected feeling of loss inching along her skin and settling in her stomach like a block of ice, she stepped away and headed toward her waiting customers. It wasn’t like she didn’t see good-looking guys on a regular basis. She saw them all the time.

  Bars were full of them. And country bars had them in spades for sure. She never engaged with them though. Never flirted or lingered or was even interested. What on earth could be so different about this one? Why him?

  Bethany was baffled, except…good grief, his smile! The man’s smile took his already good looks and sent them right off the charts. The light was dim in the bar, but not dim enough where she couldn’t see the color of his eyes. They were blue and gorgeous. Close cropped, brown hair, chiseled jaw line. Full lips. Over six feet tall, and definitely muscular—as in washboard abs kind of muscular. She didn’t need to see beneath his t-shirt and flannel to know that was a fact. The boy was straight up fine. No doubt about it.

  But her sudden attraction to him was more than all of those things combined. Question was, did she want to find out how much more?

  Chapter Two

  Rig watched the epitome of the perfect girl next-door walk away from him, and once again, he admired the incredible view of her behind in denim short shorts. Except this time, he also took the opportunity to check out her silky legs. His jeans got a whole lot tighter in the fly area and his palms ached to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked.

  She wore very little makeup, if any at all. Which he loved. Her hair was pulled into a thick bun positioned low at the base of her head. She wore a flannel shirt, tied into a knot at her wa
ist and some sort of barely there lace tank top underneath it. And cowgirl boots, good God, boots! Rig ran his palm over his head. Damn, she was sexy.

  He’d called her ma’am—no different from how he addressed all females he came in contact with. It was a respect thing his Momma and Daddy ensured he learned as a kid, but for some reason when he said it to this girl, it felt way different.

  The second the respectful term had passed his lips, her eyes had flared, a fire sparking in them. But then, almost immediately, as if he was connected to her in some mystical way, his body responded like she’d called him directly to her—and he followed the instinct, stepping as close as he could get.

  God Almighty, when Rig touched her arm and the heat of her skin passed through the thin flannel sleeve to his palm, his dick had gone rod hard. Even so, he knew on some sort of molecular level he’d been wrong to touch her without asking. When he let go, all he could think about was how much he wanted—no, needed to touch her again.

  After she’d taken the bar rag from him to finish cleaning up the spill, he stuffed his hands in his pockets like a stupid insecure teenager. He didn’t trust himself, and looking like a fool was far better than touching her again without permission.