Monday, 15 February 2016

Marked by Rebecca Sherwin BLOG TOUR!

Marked - Facebook


I couldn't live without pain.
I'd been born into a life of torture and I walked the lonely road of torment, praying for mercy. I was scarred mentally. I was deformed physically. I was mutilated emotionally.
I was a sailor lost at sea, a soul lost in limbo, a shell of a man with no hope.
Until I found her. My fiery-haired, crystal-eyed little one who brought light to a life that knew nothing but darkness.
But she had dark shadows of her own. A past filled with anguish and brutality. A future that promised nothing but the barren life I understood too well.
We were two victims. Two loveless souls searching for something to live for. We were monsters. We were evil. We were doomed.
Our scars ran deep and our grasp on each other depended only on the search for punishment - for the next slice of pain that made us feel alive. We lived for the hurt, we lived for the anger. We lived to mark each other with intensity, belonging, and our own messed up version of recovery.
This isn't a love story. It's a story that cuts. It's a story that captivates. It's a story that questions morals and crosses the line of sanity.
It's a twisted story, one you won't see coming until it's too late...

Please be advised - Marked contains content that some readers may find disturbing.
**Marked is a STANDALONE novel**


So it’s no secret how much I LOVE Rebecca’s previous books, but I was actually pretty nervous about this one... I had a special hatred for any character that hurt or who had a bad word to say about Curtis (from the Twisted series)... You know unless he had done something to deserve it and even then it was a bit of a sketchy line... What can I say?! I love the guy! So I was nervous about reading Benny’s story because he was someone that seemed to have a real deep seated hatred for Curtis without having an openly valid reason. I wanted to hear his side more than anything, because even though I hated him I couldn’t hate him in the way I wanted to and that just confused me, he’s so enigmatic that I couldn’t help but be intrigued by him and drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Marked is the life story of Benny ‘The Hunter’ Wright, so you get to know every last detail of his sometimes disturbing tale straight from the man himself as it’s told entirely in his POV, and boy does he have a lot to say! Benny broke my heart at least 10 times every chapter and as I read I couldn’t stop the protective instincts from surging to life and really why would I want to? He deserves protecting, he needs someone in his corner. You really need to heed the warning that comes with this book because Benny’s story isn’t one for the faint of heart, there is a lot of heartache and a TON of evil but if you stick with it and persevere you won’t be sorry, because his story is sensational just like the man himself.

Every story has that one character that shakes it up and changes everything... For Marked that is Faith. Faith explodes into Benny’s life in a blaze of colour, turns his world upside down and gives him things he never dreamed he’d have. I don’t really know how to sum her up other than her being a philosophical firecracker! Her moods flip quicker than a coin, one minute she can be raging out and the next she can be calm and spouting off some wisdom! So while Benny had my heart in pieces and was running away with huge chunks of it, Faith kept my mind in knots and between them they had me well and truly hooked, on both them and their antics, so much so that when I had finished the book I sat there for a while thinking ‘What am I supposed to do now?!’ They are just that imperfect couple that on first glance seem co-dependant and unhealthy for each other but when you dig deeper and get to know them and their methods and the reasons behind their actions you realise that they are actually perfect for each other, because no one else will ever be strong enough to be able to fill that void, soothe the ache that they both have and whenever I asked myself ‘Why are they doing that?’ I had Faith’s words in my head ‘What the little ones see, the little ones do’ when I added in the fact that they are basically just two scared, lost kids in adult bodies everything clicked and made sense and I felt like I totally got them both by the end of the book.

Rebecca’s books are always really deep and Marked is no different, the psychology was amazing... It was actually scary sometimes how warped Benny’s mind had become from his childhood, scary but so fascinating! Like I mentioned before Marked isn’t for the faint of heart, the things that Benny has lived and survived through are shocking so just prepare yourself for the waterworks... Grab a box of tissues just in case ;)

Thank you for telling The Hunter’s story Rebecca, I am so glad I got to know and love the real Benny :)

Watch the trailer!

Purchase Marked on all platforms


“Relax,” she said with a smile. “I won't hurt you.” I trusted her. It was an alien feeling to me, and one I hadn’t felt since I met Freddy. “Ready?” I nodded, laid my head back and squeezed my eyes shut. “You know,” Faith said as the first prick touched my skin and I flinched, my body tensing. “There are many meanings behind the significance of the swallow.” I hummed, signalling for her to go further, lost in the sensation of her hand on my stomach and the needle pricking my skin. She was right – you can't count the number of times the needle pierces. It didn’t hurt; I’d felt enough pain to know what it really felt like, but this wasn’t pain. It was uncomfortable pleasure. It was pleasurable discomfort. “Traditionally it’s chosen by sailors. It symbolises the miles of ocean they’ve travelled.” Her voice was soft and comforting, allowing me to drift away from constant defence, like a sailor who had stopped rowing to feel the ebb and flow of the sea beneath him. “And some say it means ‘these fists fly’. Fighting talk, from boxers back in the day.” I slipped into the lull created by Faith and her soft touch, the way she made branding my skin forever feel as natural as breathing. “They’re usually inked in a pair on the chest, and the sailors believed that if they were lost at sea, the swallows would carry their souls to find peace.” That was exactly how I felt on the leather bed, exposed and open without saying a word. I felt like I’d taken a slice of peace to calm my lost soul.

About the author

Rebecca is a London born and bred mother, writer and psychology student. She is the mother of a superhero (who is currently growing his hair like Thor!) and spends her days with her nose stuck in a textbook, her fingers tapping away at the keys...or she’s building forts and eating gummy bears.
She is the author of summer romance, Second Chance Hero, and the psychological romantic-suspense series, Twisted. An avid reader and lover of stories that keep you guessing, Rebecca writes tales that will challenge your perceptions and toy with your emotions. Rebecca’s stories invite you to open your mind and dig deeper into the meanings of the lives of each and every character you meet. She entices you into their world – to feel with them, to grow with them, to love with them. She asks you to become a part of them and allow them to become a part of you.
Connect with Rebecca
Other Books by Rebecca
Second Chance Hero (A Seaside Romance)
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The Twisted Series
Survival (Twisted #1)
Amazon universal link:
Revival (Twisted #2)
Amazon universal link:
Thrive (Twisted #3)
Amazon universal link:
Allegiance (Twisted #4)
Amazon universal link:
Releasing on all platforms soon

Saturday, 13 February 2016

The Consequence of Seduction by Rachel Van Dyken BLOG TOUR!!

From New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken.
Reid Emory has never had reason to question his luck with the ladies. As the owner of a lethal set of aqua-blue eyes and a devastating grin, this Hollywood heartthrob always brings his A game…but lately his luck seems to have run out. The actor is in need of some help, and there’s only one person he can trust to take his love life—and his career—to an explosive new level.
Jordan Litwright’s newest client is trying her patience. As a publicist, she’s more than content to stay in the background and let others shine. But when a publicity stunt backfires, she suddenly finds herself thrust into the spotlight—as Reid’s new love interest. And while other men usually overlook her, Reid is focusing in with laserlike intensity. There’s no denying they have serious chemistry.
But once Reid breaks into the big time, can they turn their made-for-the-media romance into a forever love?


I’m going to start by saying that although The Consequence of Seduction is a standalone and the previous books focus on the other couples, to have all the background knowledge on the jokes and references you might WANT to read them first but you certainly don’t HAVE to read them first.

I was a little dubious about Reid for a couple of reasons but the main one was, and I feel bad for saying this but, I never really knew if the Reid we saw in the previous books was the real Reid or if it was just another role he was playing, I’m glad to report that Reid is actually pretty epic and he even beat his brother at times and in case you haven’t met Max let me just say he is basically a legend so that was no easy feat!! Jordan really wasn’t what I was expecting, I honestly thought she’d be this cut throat woman that would do anything and happily steamroll through anyone to get the result she needs and I guess she is to a point but that’s only really with her work, other than that she just seems to be a normal down to earth woman.

The Consequence of Seduction is told from both Reid and Jordan’s POVs so you get to experience the whole journey with them and they have an incredible journey, it’s not without its ups and downs but what story doesn’t have highs and lows? No story in this series would be complete with the hurricane that is Max Emory, he seems to have upped his game and I can’t decide if that’s just because this is Reid’s time to shine and he wanted to upstage his brother or if it’s because he has Becca now... Probably a mixture of the two!! The sibling banter/rivalry between Max and Reid throughout the book was quite frankly brilliant, they had me crying with laughter so often that most of my reading time must have been spent rereading the pages I couldn’t see through the tears! Milo, Colt, Jason and Becca also make appearances throughout the book and they don’t disappoint either, individually they are brilliant but when the gang is all together they are EPIC.

I can’t put into words how much I smiled and laughed while reading The Consequence of Seduction, the story was spot on and the characters are gold, and it’s not just this book it’s all three of them, I can honestly say that I will be rereading the series as a whole at some point because it’s just one of those series that you can pick up and you’ll have an instant smile on your face. I’m already counting down the days until Jason’s book ;)


I wasn’t nervous. Please. The nervous guy was always played by a dude who had no fashion sense, had never kissed a girl, and thought that foreplay was an actual play—in baseball.

I had killer fashion.
Had kissed tons of girls—even secured my first by the age of four from a six-year-old riding the bus to school.
And foreplay was my specialty. I like to think that some men are just gifted in that area—not to boast, but I’m one of them.
Oh, and I was a hell of a baseball player.
So that weird, shaky feeling currently residing in my stomach, slithering its way up my chest? Heartburn.
I popped two Tums.
“Hey, you okay?” Jordan asked. Her big brown eyes were makeup free—making them look even prettier—more natural. She’d given up on her hair so it was wildly cascading in every direction known to mankind, giving her a sex kitten look I wasn’t at all comfortable her sporting outside my apartment.
“Yeah.” I coughed. “Heartburn.”
“Weird. I wonder why you have heartburn after all those shots, five slices of pizza, and three glasses of red wine?”
I grinned. “Beats me.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote from my hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked calmly, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“Changing the channel?” she answered without looking at me. “The movie ended an hour ago and you usually go to bed at eleven, so . . .”
“But this is date night.”
“Uh-huh, and now date night is over. I’ll tell you what.” She turned and tucked her legs beneath her. “Since you’re new at this whole dating thing, I’ll give you a free pass and let you in on a little secret.”
“I’m listening.” Okay, so I was trying to listen while my eyes zeroed in on her low-cut blouse and fringes of the black lacy bra that was peeking from beneath. Focus. Focus. Focus. Did she have pizza sauce on her breast?
“When girls come home from a date, they don’t take a hot shower and run their hands all over their body moaning and groaning and replaying every touch, every caress, every kiss.”
Can’t. Look. Away. I leaned forward. Yup, definitely pizza sauce. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
“Usually, they pour themselves a glass of wine, toss off their tall heels, turn on the TV, put on their sweats, and read while New Girl plays in the background.”
How was it possible she wasn’t aware she had food on her chest?
“Reid, are you listening?”
“Of course I am!” I nodded. “Wine, heels, TV, books, New Girl.” I know, neat trick, right? Just pull the details out of what they said and repeat them. Works nine times out of ten. Unless you’re Max. If you’re Max, you usually just get punched, because he tends to brag about the fact he remembered in the first place.
“What?” Jordan looked down. “What are you staring at?”
“Sauce.” I pointed. “Right there.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “I’m not falling for that trick where you point and I look down and you hit me in the face. How old are you, ten?”
“No, seriously.” I moved forward. “You have pizza sauce right here.” I swiped it with my thumb and then licked it off.
“That should be gross,” she breathed.
“I know.”
“But it was kind of sexy.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying ‘I know.’”
I smirked. “Sorry . . . oh, look, you have something right here too.”
This time she did look down. And my ten-year-old self cheered as I knocked her in the chin and said, “Gotcha.”
Defeated, her shoulders slumped forward. “I deserved that.”
“I couldn’t help myself.” I watched in a hypnotic trance as her tongue sneaked out and teased her lower lip. It was the perfect moment for a kiss, but the line had been . . . skewed. I wasn’t sure if it was okay, in the privacy of my apartment, to actually kiss her. I mean, I’d kissed her, but this felt different, more intimate.
“This is the part”—Jordan leaned forward and gripped my shirt with both hands—“where you either kiss me or cough awkwardly, make an excuse, scratch your balls, and cower back in your bedroom.”
“Wow, so many choices,” I mused, meeting her halfway. “Eenie, meenie, minie—” Our mouths met in a frenzy. She tasted like wine and pizza.
Holy shit, it was hotter than it should have been.
My hands moved to her hips as I tried to pull her onto my lap. But her skirt was too tight.
“Damn it.” I tugged harder and heard a split.
Jordan reared back. “Did you just rip my skirt?”
“Small tear.”
“No.” I gripped the fabric until it gave with a scratchy tearing sound. “That’s a rip.” With a grin I tossed the discarded remains onto the ground.
Jordan stared at the skirt for a few seconds before wrapping her legs around my torso and fusing her mouth with mine. “You owe me a skirt.”
“Can I rip you out of that one too?”
She laughed against my mouth. I stood, lifting her with me, and walked her backward toward my bedroom.
We looked good. She was half-naked, sexy, I was carrying her around like a badass, and then things went . . . south.
And not a good south.
“Watch out for my shoes—”
I tripped over two spiked heels, sending Jordan flying into the wall. She slid down said wall and landed on the plant—yes, THE plant, the one she’d kept alive for all those years.
“My plant!” she yelled. I burst out laughing as remnants of dirt and plant sifted through her hands. “YOU KILLED IT!”
“Whoa!” I held up my hands and backed up, tripping over the damn shoes again and stumbling to the floor.
I shit you not, Jordan giddyup crawled toward me, faster than lightning, straddled me, and started fighting.
“We’ll get you a new plant!” I yelled as she smacked my chest. I gripped her wrists and flipped her onto her back. “Don’t you think—”
She bucked beneath me.
“—it was probably time to let the plant go? You know, cut the apron strings!”
“It’s not my child!” she wheezed, tuckering herself out.
“Exactly.” I nodded, then released her hand and patted her cheek.
Her eyes went wild.

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. 
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866! 
You can connect with her on Facebook  or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is 

Friday, 12 February 2016

Legend by Katy Evans RELEASE BLITZ!

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage wants to rise to the top and become a legend in the ring. Though he keeps his identity well guarded, he's known on the fighting circuit as the new kid with a chip on his shoulder and a tattoo on his back that marks him as trouble. He's got a personal score to settle with the Underground's one and only Remington "Riptide" Tate.
As Mav trains, he meets a young girl—the only other new person in the town--and sparks fly. When things get heated between them, he finds out she's none other than Reese Dumas, the cousin of Remington Tate’s wife. A girl who's supposed to root against him and a girl he's supposed to stay away from.
But Maverick fights for the woman in his heart, and the monsters in his blood. The world’s eyes are on them and the victor will go down in history as the ultimate fighting champion; the ultimate LEGEND.
* LEGEND is the 6th and final installment of the REAL series, but it can also be read as standalone or after the three Remington and Brooke books (Real/Mine/Remy.)

Amazon US    Amazon UK    Amazon US (Paperback)    iBooks    Nook    B&N    BAM    IndieBound    Kobo    Google Play


I have been a fan of the REAL series since day one and I will NEVER be able to put into words how much I love this series and these characters and Legend was, in my eyes, the perfect end to a truly epic series.

Maverick Cage is an enigma, everything about him is shrouded in mystery and if I’m truly honest it just adds to his appeal, he is a total badass and I love every thing about him. Reese is incredibly strong, I didn’t realise quite how strong until about halfway through because she is so quiet and shy she downplays her strengths, I think she will surprise a lot of people. 

Legend is told from both Reese and Maverick’s POV so you get a full 360 degree view of their story, you see all the ins and outs and most importantly you get to see them through each others eyes which I found really enlightening because they are both quiet people, they don’t always verbalise what they are thinking or feeling and when they do they choose their words carefully, so being inside their heads shows you their unedited thoughts and feelings. Many of you will be pleased to hear that you see and hear about Remy, Brooke and Racer A LOT, the Tate’s are a huge part of Maverick and Reese’s story for many reasons but the biggest one, and the only one I’m telling you ;), is that Reese is Brooke’s cousin and she’s staying with them for the summer :). I feel the need to add in a little bit about Racer here... He is such a cool little dude and so much like his dad! I’m so glad he was such a big part of the book because he gave it that element that only kids can. I couldn’t help thinking that Maverick and Reese are like the Romeo and Juliet of the Underground... She’s with the Tate’s and he’s the rookie who is determined to be against Riptide in the final. They have some ups and downs in their story, secrets that come out and things that try to get in the way but they persevere and never let it stop them and it unravels into one hell of a book.

As always with this series the fight scenes are beyond epic, I could clearly picture every jab, hook and uppercut, and I know I’ve said this before but it needs to be said again... Katy is an amazing writer, she really does paint pictures with words and it isn’t just the fight scenes, it’s every scene, she can describe with 10 words what would take me 100 or more, I honestly have no idea how she does it!!

Legend really was the perfect end to this series, in so many ways it was perfect and I haven’t stopped smiling since I picked it up, the ending was just beautiful, when I finished reading my heart was full of love for these characters and it always will be, I love them HARD. Thank you Katy for sharing these phenomenal books with the world :)


It’s midweek already, and I’m halfway through my workout when I get a text from Brooke:
Hey! Huge line at the Underground registration, might pick up lunch on our way back home. Don’t wait for us - lunch home w/Diane
Me: Got it ☺ Will take Racer to park and meet you home ltr
I set my phone aside and scan the gym again. Some otherworldly impulse has me walking past the weights section. I cross the treadmills, bicycles, toward the mats at the end and the boxing bags. I scan the area where Maverick always works out. There are several guys at the bags now. None of them are as big, or mysterious. Or hot.
He’s gone.
Disappointment washes over me. I wait a bit, checking the time. Five minutes to leave for Racer.
Reese, you’re acting stupid.
“You’re looking for your friend? The one you come in with?”
“I . . . ah . . . yeah.”
“He hasn’t come in.”
“Right. Thanks.”
I head to pick up Racer from day care, meet Pete there with the stroller and our snacks, then sit Racer inside and push him to the park. There’s this spot I like under the shadow of a tree. I head there. “How was day care, Racer?”
He’s scanning the park for dogs, I know.
“This is nice, isn’t it?”
I pull out his fruit bears and open them. He dives in.
“Racer, I ran extra hard today and I’m suddenly hungry. If I tell you an extra story tonight, would you give me one of your fruit bears?”
“Two stowies,” he negotiates.
“Okay, two stories, for two bears?” I shoot back.
He hesitates, then nods and lets me pull out two bears, examining my hand thoroughly. I let him open my palm.
“See? Two?”
He grins a dimpled grin that I could eat up, and then continues eating.
I shove them in my mouth and start to set up my blanket and stop in my tracks when I spot the figure doing pull-ups on the tree.
His T-shirt is riding upward due to the lifted position of his arms, and I can see the concrete-like squares of his abs perfectly.
His extraordinary eyes blaze and glow when he spots me a few feet away, not far from the tree. He drops himself to the ground, lithe as a cat and surprisingly quiet, and as he stretches to his feet from the crouched position he landed in, his eyes are direct and interested and warm. No, not warm. More.
There’s a flip in my stomach when his lips curl a little. He ambles over and I have the oddest sensation that he was waiting for me. But . . . was he?
“Mavewick!” Racer repeats, and puts out his fist.
He bumps fists with Racer. “Dude. Cool cap.”
He taps Racer’s Yankees baseball cap. Then his eyes lift to meet mine.
My stomach feels unsettled, but it’s not from hunger, more like from nerves or something like . . . anticipation.
“Didn’t see you at the gym today,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I talked to Oz.”
“You did?”
He gives me this quiet, perfect smile and simply nods.
“That’s great.”
We smile for the most delicious few seconds.
“So you’re fighting during the inaugural?” I ask excitedly.
He pulls out a page from his back jeans pocket. “That’s me.”
I take and scan the page. It indicates his accepting the Underground terms and rules of engagement, states his coach’s name, and then his name. A dangerous little chill runs down my spine when I read:
Maverick “the Avenger” Cage
And Maverick “the Avenger” Cage is watching me read this paper, studying my reaction.
My palms are sweaty all of a sudden. “Well . . . wow.”
My stomach is quaking upon seeing his name, I don’t know why. Maverick Cage. His name is a conundrum. Maverick means “rebel,” and cage . . . But it looks like this maverick is coming out of his cage.
He tucks the page back into his jeans. “I had to tell someone.”
“And you came to tell me?” If I sound bewildered, it’s because I am.
He stares into me, a liquid look coming to his eyes. “It wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you.”
“That’s totally not true.”
He glances down at the stroller. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell my buddy here.” He fist-bumps Racer again and Racer giggles at the attention.
“Mom and Dad are busy, so I get to keep him for an extra while,” I tell Maverick.
He stares at me. He has a very stubborn, arrogant face, but when he smiles, pleasure softens his granitelike features. And he’s smiling right now. Dear me. “So he’s not yours,” he says.
“God, no. I wish!”
I can’t think straight when he looks at me. I feel naked. As if he knows that I’ve missed him. As if he knows that just looking at him makes me feel odd. Odd and oddly sensual inside. Responding to him.
I open my blanket and bend over to smooth it on the ground. Then I realize my butt is sticking out, the Himalayas of butts out there for him to see. In tight exercise gear. Fuck.
He kneels on his haunches at the edges of the blanket and opens his hand. “Share the blanket with me?”
His knuckles are still scarred. I can’t decide why I keep looking at them. I get a gut squeeze of empathy every time I see the bruises. His hands are huge. He plants them on the blanket, then shifts to lean back on his arms, stretching out his legs before him. Other couples are nearby on blankets. It feels intimate when I set my stuff down, and I feel myself go hot when I sense him watching me settle down next to it.
He spreads out just a little more and squints up at the tree, then looks at me in silence.
I search the picnic bag. “Want some . . . kid food? Or I’ve got . . .” I pull out my emergency Snickers bar, which I’m proud not to have touched yet, and I hand it over. “Plus one water and a drinking cup with a lid.”
I pass the drinking cup to Racer and hand Maverick the water. He takes it. “I’m good.” He opens the water bottle and hands it to me.
I shake my head. I’m not hungry, really. Or thirsty. My stomach feels full of butterflies again and it makes no sense, since I don’t evenknow him.
He shifts up higher on his arms, the flex of his torsal muscles visible through the cotton of his shirt.
“I almost thought you’d arrived to the gym and got yourself kicked out,” I try.
“Not yet. There’s still tomorrow.” He smirks.
And there’s a tinge of merriment in his eyes.
“Wee, and the ducks?”
I jerk my attention back to Racer and my pending business with him. “Right. I promised we’d feed the ducks today.” I quickly pack our stuff and then push the stroller toward the lake. He walks beside me.
I feel him watching me as I stop at the dispenser to fill up a cup of duck food.
“Mavewick, get me out,” Racer commands.
Maverick sweeps him up and sets him on his feet.
“Don’t go in the water, Racer, just stay on the edge, and don’t let them bite your finger. Do it like this. . . .” I show him how to cup his hand. “Or throw it in the water and watch them pick at it.”
He nods and starts throwing all over, sending the ducks after the nibbles.
I sit on the ground, the scent of damp grass surrounding us as Maverick sits beside me.
“Hey, I want to do something for you.”
I can’t remember how to breathe.
I give him a moment to explain, but he’s not helping me out, only smiling. His face is open, friendly, his smile captivating. But his eyes are guarded, careful. I try to keep my voice indifferent.
“You mean for the gym?” I ask, a puzzled frown on my face.
He nods. “For that. And Oz.”
“Oh.” I shake my head, laughing softly. “It’s nothing, really.”
When he looks at me, he looks curious, and unsatisfied somehow. But a genuinely appreciative smile touches his eyes. “Trust me. It’s not nothing. It’s something, and I appreciate it.”
His open gratitude makes me so warm. He makes me feel impulsive.
“I’m in a healthy-living boot camp this summer. You’re meeting the new Reese,” I hear myself blurt out.
Wow. Did I just spew it out like that?
I’m so desperate for him to share bits of himself that I’m just totally baring myself to him without his even asking. Thank god he takes it in stride with an attractive little dance in his eyes.
“What was the old one like?” he asks easily.
I shrug and shake my head, not really wanting to get into that.
When he does nothing to fill the silence that settles between us, it leaves me with nothing to do but look up at him. I lift my lashes, and he’s staring at me with a look of total intrigue in his eyes. Wisps of hair tease my face, and I push them away, feeling really restless under that stare.
“Help me kick my own ass, and we’ll call it even,” I suddenly suggest.
He shakes his head with playful stubbornness. “We’re not even. I still owe you.” His eyes grow thoughtful, and he reaches into his pocket and extracts something. “Open your palm.”
He looks so intense that I open my palm and watch him drop something in it. “What’s this?”
“My IOU.”
I stare at the penny in my palm, then look up at him in confusion.
His voice sounds a little more harsh and textured all of a sudden. “I don’t have a lot right now, but I got this.”
“For a rainy day?” I ask.
“For any day.”

At Tate’s corner, outside the ropes, his coach whistles. “You two get some headgear on. Stat.”
Tate’s lips curl rebelliously, and he looks at me with challenge in his eyes.
I smile back, a feral curl of my lips.
We tap gloves.
No headgear.
I jab. He swings his arm, blocks the hit, leaps back, and I jab again, blocked again.
We space apart and jump in place, shaking our shoulders, loosening up. I pull my gloves back up, narrow my eyes, and he asks, “You think you’re the shit because you’re fast and strong? I got news for you. I’m faster, I’m stronger, and I’m disciplined. Your coach isn’t doing you any favors.”
“He’s in my corner, and that’s enough for me.”
He swings, I duck fast and come up behind him. He straightens and faces me again. “If you settle for that, then you should settle for second place.”
“What the fuck. You want me to win?”
“I want a good fight. I like keeping things real. Reminds me I’m a man. Mortal.”
“I want to be a legend. Legends never die. Even if they die alone.”
He swings again, and I duck, come up, and jab three times.
He blocks repeatedly, then hooks with his right; I deflect. He grins and jabs again. I block, then I duck before he puts me up against the ropes, and I head back to center. He follows.
“To be a legend you need to fall seven times, get up eight,” he says.
I remember a final a few years ago when my father kicked Tate to a pulp. “Or not fall at all.”
He backs up his arm and then smacks the smirk right off me. “Before you stop falling, you need to embrace the fact that you’re going to hit the ground.”
I clean the blood from my mouth, glowering.
We take positions again, and he watches me as if waiting for my next move as we start dancing around, jumping, waiting for the other to strike.
“Do you want the headgear now?”
I lunge and start hitting, and he blocks, deflects, blocks. “Fuck you,” I grit out.
“Getting angry doesn’t help. You control the anger, not let it control you.”
I want to prove him wrong; I loop out my arm and aim for his head.
He ducks and hooks, his knuckles cracking into my jaw. I spurt blood and bounce against the ropes.
I shake my head, wipe the blood away, grit my teeth and straighten, narrowing my eyes. “My turn,” I growl, and I swing. My fist connects: a kidney punch.
He blocks my next hit, frowning in thought. “You’re cocky for someone who just lost yesterday.”
He jabs.
I dive my upper body to the side, evading. “You got to play it to become it.”
“I’m the champion, not you.”
“You won’t live forever, champ.”
He jabs three times, then leaps back, flexes his arm and looks at it.
“Muscle memory. You hit enough times, you fight on instinct; part of your brain works on your assault, the other is focused on the other’s assault. Let your muscle memory work for you and consciously stay focused on your opponent’s eyes.”
I laugh mockingly. “I don’t need your pointers.”
“Go back home to daddy, then.”
“When I’m finished with you.” I punch him, then raise my left hook and connect hard enough to stun him.
He raises his head, shakes it to clear it, and wipes blood from his nose. I catch my breath, satisfied I got some blood. At least I won’t be the only one with an ice pack tonight.
He sees the blood on his arm and looks at me, impressed.
“TIME!” his coach yells out from the corner. “You two won’t have shit for the fight if you keep up this nonsense.”
Tate grins at him, then turns back and glowers at me. “You get enough?”
“Barely warming up here.” I squint the blood out of one eye and raise my gloves. “Come get it, Riptide,” I growl.

Real (Book One) The Real Series

Mine (Book Two) The Real Series

Remy (Book Three) The Real Series

Rogue (Book Four) The Real Series

Ripped (Book Five) The Real Series

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!