Review: Tangled by Emma Chase

Description:Drew Evans is handsome and arrogant, he makes multimillion dollar business deals and seduces New York’s most beautiful women with just a smile. So why has he been shuttered in his apartment for seven days, miserable and depressed? He’ll tell you he has the flu. But we all know that’s not really true.

Katherine Brooks is brilliant, beautiful and ambitious. When Kate is hired as the new associate at Drew’s father’s investment banking firm, every aspect of the dashing playboy’s life is thrown into a tailspin. The professional competition she brings is unnerving, his attraction to her is distracting, his failure to entice her into his bed is exasperating.


My opinion: This is an AMAZING book. I like the way it's written. It's not like most books, here we have Drew describing us what  happened to him. It was like i was watching a movie, so vivid. There were moments that i was laughing so hard... We have advices from Drew,how men see things and a few words of wisdom. If you haven't read this book then you MUST do it.

Best lines:

     As I finally reach our floor, panting and sweating, I see Kate leisurely leaning against her office
door, coat off, a glass of water in hand. She offers it to me, along with that breathtaking smile of hers.
     It makes me want to kiss her and strangle her at the same time. I’ve never been into S&M. But
I’m beginning to see its benefits.

I’ve found myself gravitating toward brunettes for the last couple weeks.
     You don’t need to be Sigmund Freud to figure that one out.

      Brooks—two.
      Evans—zip.

      “That’s good, Kate. Fine. Love Billy. Marry Billy. Just please…God…please just fuck me.”

 Whoever invented karaoke is evil. They should be shot between the eyes with a dull bullet.

 “Given head? Sucked him off? Been tea-bagged?
Blown his balls and his mind?”

      Her head rolls on her neck, and she moans, “God, you feel so…hard…so big.”
      That phrase? Hearing that phrase is the dream of every man who has ever lived. I don’t care if
you’re a freaking monk; you want to hear it.

And it’s not even good porn: “He moved his trunk-like manhood toward the weeping petals of her
womanly center.”Who the fuck talks like that?

“God! Oh God!”
      I smile as I pick up the pace, “God’s not the one fucking you, baby.”


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