Author: Katy Evans
Release date: April 9, 2013
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Age Group: Mature New Adult/ Adult
WHERE TO BUY!!!!
A fallen boxer.
A woman with a broken dream.
IS HE FOR REAL?
He makes me forget my name. One night was all it took, and I forgot everything and anything except the sexy fighter in the ring who sets my mind ablaze and my body on fire with wanting...
Remington Tate is the strongest, most confusing man I've ever met in my life.
He's the star of the dangerous Underground fighting circuit, and I'm drawn to him as I've never been drawn to anything in my life. I forget who I am, what I want, with just one look from him. When he's near, I need to remind myself that I am strong--but he is stronger. And now it's my job to keep his body working like a perfect machine, his taut muscles primed and ready to break the bones of his next opponents . . .
But the one he's most threatening to, now, is me.
I want him. I want him without fear. Without reservations.
If only I knew for sure what it is that he wants from me?
About the Author:
Katy Evans writes books with lots of kissing and wanting and sexy dangerous males. She’s married with two children and three dogs and spends her time baking, walking, writing, reading, and having fun with her family. She’d love to hear from you at; authorkatyevansATgmail.com
Where to find her?Excerpt:
Melanie has been shouting in my ear for the past half hour and my nerves are so frazzled by what we're witnessing, I can barely even hear anything. Only my heart. Pounding like crazy in my head as the two fighters in the underground boxing ring lunge at each other, both men equal in height and weight, both extremely muscled as they pound their faces in.in the underground boxing ring lunge at each other, both men equal in height and weight, both extremely muscled as they pound their faces in.
Every time one of them lands a punch, cheers and claps burst across the room, which is crowded with at least three hundred spectators, all of them thirsting for blood. The worst part of it all is that I can hear the god-awful sound of bone cracking against flesh, and the hairs on my arms are pricked in utter fear. Any minute now I expect one of them to fall and never, ever, get up.
“Brooke!” Melanie, my best friend, squeals and hugs me. “You look ready to puke, you are so not cut out for this!”
I’m seriously going to kill her.
As soon as I take my eyes off these men and make sure they’re both breathing when they finish this round, I’m going to murder my best friend without mercy. And then myself, for agreeing to come into this place in the first place.
But my poor, dear Melanie has a new man-crush, and as soon as she found out the object of her nightly fantasies was in the city participating in these “private” and very “dangerous” underground club fighting games, she begged me to come with her and watch him. It’s just hard to say no to Melanie. She’s effusive and insistent, and now she’s jumping in glee.
“He’s next!” she hisses, uncaring of who won this last round, and if they even survived. Which apparently, thank God, they both did. “Get ready for some serious piece of eye-candy, Brooky!”
The public falls silent, and the announcer calls, “Ladies and gentlemen, and noooww…the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the man you’re all here to see. The baddest of the bad, I give you, the one, the only, Remington “Riptide” Tate!”
A shiver runs along my spine as the crowd goes crazy with the name alone, especially the women, and their eager shouts tumble one atop the other.
“Remy! I love you, Remy!”
“I’ll suck your cock for you, Remy!”
“REMY, POUND ME, REMY!”
“Remington I want your Riptide!”
All heads turn as a figure in a hooded red cape heads toward the ring. The fighters tonight, apparently, don’t wear boxing gloves, and I see his fingers flex and unflex at his sides, his hands enormous and tanned, his fingers long.
Across the ring from me, a woman with a poster that reads, “REMY’S #1 BITCH” waves it proudly in the air, and she’s screaming to the top of her lungs in his direction—I guess in case he doesn’t know how to read or misses the neon pink letters, or the glitter.
I’m so astounded, only now realizing my crazy best friend isn’t the only female in Seattle who’s apparently lost her head for this guy, when I feel her squeezing my arm. “I dare you to look at him and tell me you wouldn’t do anything for that man.”
“I wouldn’t do anything for that man,” I instantly repeat, just to win.
“You’re not looking!” She squeals. “Look at him. Look.”
She grabs my face and directs my gaze in the direction of the ring, but I start laughing instead. Melanie loves men. Loves to sleep with them, stalk them, drool about them, and yet when she catches them, she can never really hold onto them. I, on the other hand, am not interested in getting involved with anyone.
My romantic little sister has had enough boyfriends, and drama, for both of us.
I stare up at the stage as the guy whips off the satin red robe with the word RIPTIDE in the back, and the spectators scream and stand cheering as he slowly turns to acknowledge them all. His face is suddenly before me, illuminated by the lights, and I just stare like an idiot from my place. My God.