Legend
The Real Series #6 By Katy Evans Release Date February 9, 2016
Synopsis
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.)
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Excerpt
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?” “Okay.” 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? “Maverick.” “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.” “Yeah.” 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 even know 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.” “What?” 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.”
Real (Book One) The Real Series
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1CHl6sS Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35g8N Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zT7J31 iBooks:http://bit.ly/1tHrTct Mine (Book Two) The Real Series Amazon US:http://amzn.to/1I2nbzy Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1tHrdns Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zmq1cT iBooks: http://bit.ly/1yhymBF Remy (Book Three) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1vOn8T2 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35lcN Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ynVnBv iBooks: http://bit.ly/1vlqhom Rogue (Book Four) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1vOnjh8 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FOFfJy Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1wvpqI6 iTunes: http://bit.ly/12xnylU Ripped (Book Five) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Bfzsi Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yia714 Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/11X9CAG iBooks: http://bit.ly/1ynQ9FV
About The Author
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! Website: www.katyevans.net Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans Email: [email protected]
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Legend
Real #6 By Katy Evans Release Date February 9, 2015
Synopsis
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.)
Excerpt
SEATTLEMaverick ‘Not in a million years, kid.’ ‘No.’ ‘NOT INTERESTED.’ ‘Get the fuck out of my face!’ Four cities in two days, and more doors slammed in my face than I can count. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and scratch another name from my list. Hopping on to a bus and hopping off thirty minutes later, I scan the mix of both commercial and apartment numbers down the block, then knock on my last door. “Coach Hennesy?” He’s a tall man, his hair like pepper, clad in sweats, with a yellow timer hanging from his neck. He gives me a questioning look. “I’m your next champion.” He laughs, but then he must see something on my face. In my stance. Thirst, resoluteness, guts. Maybe I’m wearing my balls in my eyes. He falls sober and swings the door wide-open. “Come on in.” He doesn’t ask for my name. I guess with one look, he knows he’ll find my name in the dictionary, right next to “determined.” He leads me to his garage. “Where’d you train before?” he asks. “Self-taught. I watch videos.” He scoffs, then shrugs. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” I eye the equipment across the room. The heavy bag hangs from the ceiling, the leather worn from other fighters before me. There’s a boxing dummy at the corner. Speed bag. Weights. A whole private gym set up here. I drop both my bags, then zip open my backpack and start to put on the gloves without bothering to remove my hoodie. “Take that off; I need to know what you’ve got. Need to see your form,” Hennesy says. I clench my jaw. Slowly unzip my hoodie. Take it off and glance past my shoulder, shifting to keep my back from the coach’s view. The guy is clearing the fighting area. Good. We can get down to business. He walks to me when I face him. “Give it over.” I hand him my hoodie and he tosses it aside, then crosses his arms and looks at me. “Speedball first.” I inhale, position myself before the speedball, and hit. Wham. I keep on hitting, lightning fast, my fists making the bag fly. I would have warmed up first, but I’ve been doing this for days, and I won’t stop until I’ve got myself a coach—and not even then. I’ve got momentum now, and I pick up speed, my arms moving back and forth, working the speed bag until it’s moving so fast you can’t even see it. I’m starting to sweat; it’s stuffy in here, but I can’t stop. I need him to take me on. I need one yes to get me in the ring. Just one yes and I’ll do the rest. “Time.” Hennesy stops me. He signals to the boxing dummy and the heavy bag. “Let’s see you pound the bag.” I swing out and slam my knuckles on the bag, putting everything into my fists. Thack, thump, thud. Hennesy’s composure starts to crumble with excitement. “Holy shit, boy!” I’m getting in to it. I’m in the zone—where it’s just me, the leather brown bag, my fists, and nothing else but slamming the spot I’m looking at. “I’ve seen enough.” He stops the bag from swinging. His eyes glassy. “Fill this out.” I pull off my right glove and grab a pen as he slaps a paper onto a desk at the corner. I bend down to fill out my name and contact information and realize, too late, that I exposed the tattoo on my back. “You’re his boy.” I freeze midsignature. A second ticks by. Then two. I slowly set the pen down and take one last look at the paper. I might not get to fill it out after all. I turn. His face has paled. I wait it out for a few beats. Maybe he’s different. Maybe he can deal with it. He tosses my jacket at me. “Get out. Nobody wants to see you fight.” I frown fiercely as I catch my jacket in my fist and edge forward, equally mad now. “That’s too damn bad. ’Cause I’m fighting anyway.” I keep my eyes on him as I pull off my left glove, shove my arms into my hoodie, and zip up. I walk out and the door slams behind me. I clench my jaw, and I shove my gloves into my bag and spot the old, black gloves inside too. I push them down into the bottom of the duffel bag and zip it up. The season starts in a week and a half. No coach? No fight. I can’t even get into a gym. But I won’t let anyone or anything keep me from the ring. I pick up a penny from the ground. And I spot a girl in workout clothes across the street, tying her shoelaces. She’s a step away from the gym door. I straighten, pull my hoodie over my head, and cross the street, following after her like I belong.
The Series
Real (Book One) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JzU36O Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35g8N Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zT7J31 iBooks:http://bit.ly/1tHrTct Mine (Book Two) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JzUa28 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1tHrdns Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zmq1cT iBooks: http://bit.ly/1yhymBF Remy (Book Three) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ReiJV3 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35lcN Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ynVnBv iBooks: http://bit.ly/1vlqhom Rogue (Book Four) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JzUhL7 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FOFfJy Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1wvpqI6 iTunes: http://bit.ly/12xnylU Ripped (Book Five) The Real Series Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JzUm1k Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yia714 Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/11X9CAG iBooks: http://bit.ly/1ynQ9FV
About The Author
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! Website: www.katyevans.net Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans Email: [email protected]
Manwhore + 1
Manwhore #2 By Katy Evans Release Date July 7 2015
Synopsis
The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE continues heating up the pages in MANWHORE +1 by New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans... Billionaire playboy? Check. Ruthless businessman? Check. Absolutely sinful? Check. Malcolm Saint was an assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a racy exposé. I intended to reveal him, his secrets, his lifestyle--not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I fell hard. Malcolm Saint is absolute Sin, and I've become a hopeless Sinner. Now that the assignment is over, Saint wants something from me--something unexpected--and I want this wicked playboy's heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that I'm worthy of becoming his plus one?
Excerpt
MANWHORE + 1 by Katy Evans FOUR WEEKS I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding up to the executive floor on my own. Toward him. Toward the man I love. My body is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor. Stepping out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass, marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room. Framing those doors to each side is a pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four. Behind these desks are four women in identical black-and-white suits, sitting behind their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen computers. One of them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her desk and murmurs my name into it. I. Am. Not. Breathing. But Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man in Chicago. The human being with the most powerful effect on me. This is what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand others that I left unsent. To see him. For him to want to see me. But as I force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did. I’m wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but bright, even as I shake like a leaf. Catherine holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his office. Two steps inside I hear the swoosh of the glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the most beautiful office I’ve ever been in. His office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world. He’s pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches … He hangs up, and as if he feels me in the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes. His achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes. He inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his sides as he looks at me. I look back at him. Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. I just walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A hurricane. Four weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger than life, and more irresistible than ever. His striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly full I can almost feel them against mine. Six-feet-plus of perfectly controlled male power stand before me, in a perfect black suit and a killer tie. He’s the very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those penetrating eyes. He’s got the best eyes. They twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about his thoughts. But I had forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards. He clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside. He looks as approachable as a wall, his shoulders stretching his white shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie. But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like this. He’s walking towards me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his. He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.
Pre-Order
Manwhore
Book One Now Available Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1LG6ThL Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BYFl1v Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/16oqqTO Nook: http://tinyurl.com/ngwqaut B&N Paperback: http://tinyurl.com/kmu4brk iBooks: http://tinyurl.com/k4ns3pv BAM: http://tinyurl.com/nxbbrff IndieBound: http://tinyurl.com/kqcnmxv Google: http://tinyurl.com/l4c7nnc
About The Author
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! Website: www.katyevans.net Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans Email: [email protected] Manwhore Manwhore Series #1 By Katy Evans Available March 24, 2015 Synopsis Is it possible to expose Chicago’s hottest player—without getting played? This is the story I’ve been waiting for all my life, and its name is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. Don’t be fooled by that last name though. There’s nothing holy about the man except the hell his parties raise. The hottest entrepreneur Chicago has ever known, he’s a man’s man with too much money to spend and too many women vying for his attention. Mysterious. Privileged. Legendary. His entire life he’s been surrounded by the press as they dig for tidbits to see if his fairytale life is for real or all mirrors and social media lies. Since he hit the scene, his secrets have been his and his alone to keep. And that’s where I come in. Assigned to investigate Saint and reveal his elusive personality, I’m determined to make him the story that will change my career. But I never imagined he would change my life. Bit by bit, I start to wonder if I’m the one discovering him…or if he’s uncovering me. What happens when the man they call Saint, makes you want to sin? Excerpt About The Author 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! Links Website: www.katyevans.net Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans Email: [email protected] Ripped Real #5 By Katy Evans Available December 9, 2014 Synopsis A ripped rock star with attitude. An ex-girlfriend with a reckless plan. Pandora assumed getting her heartbroken by her bad boy ex could only happen once--until Mackenna Jones comes back to town for the biggest concert of his career. They say girls are getting pregnant just thinking about the Crack Bikini tour and it's destined to be a huge hit. Oh, it'll be a hit alright--when Pandora comes out swinging. She and her friend Melanie are determined to humiliate him onstage. But when they're caught by security and her ex is summoned, Mackenna decides not to press charges if she'll join him on tour and follow certain conditions--rules designed to give him the upper hand and keep her in close contact with him once again. Soon, the passion they once shared is reignited, and no matter how much Pandora wants to hate him, her hard exterior starts to crack. And worse: Mackenna knows it, too. But he hasn't uncovered all her secrets... Pre-Order Links Sneak Peak Excerpt Rage bubbles up inside me full force. “Now?” Melanie keeps asking me. I. Loathe. Him. “Now?” she asks again. I loathe him. He’s the only boy I’ve ever kissed. He took kisses that meant everything to me and turned them into a joke of a fucking song. A song that turns me into some sort of Eve, torturing and teasing him to sin. He is the sin. He is the penitence, the hell, and the devil, all in one. I reach into my bag, nicely tucked under my poncho, and grab the first thing I find. “Now,” I whisper. Before Mackenna knows what hit him, Melanie and I have sent three tomatoes and a couple of eggs flying through the air. The orchestra music isn’t enough to drown out his muttered “fuck,” audible through the microphone. His jaw clamps and he yanks the mic down over his chin as he jerks his eyes around to find the source of the attack. I feel delirious when I see the genuine anger on his face. I squeal, “The rest!” and grab the remaining things we brought and just keep throwing. Not only at him, but at anyone who tries to get in the way—like the stupid dancers who rush to protect him. One of them makes a whimpering noise as an egg hits her face, and Mackenna jerks her back by the arm so he can take the hits himself, his furious eyes trying to find us in the crowd. Then I hear Melanie shout, “Hey! LET GO, asshole!” My arms are yanked behind me, and I’m suddenly shoved and pulled out of my place and down the aisle. “Let go of us!” Melanie cries, struggling as two burly guards drag us away. “If you don’t let go of me right now, my boyfriend’s going to find your home and kill you in your sleep!” The guard yanks me back harder, and I catch my breath as pain rushes up my arm. “Asshole,” I hiss, but I don’t even bother to struggle. Melanie’s getting nowhere and I know it. “She knows them! She knows the band! Who do you think he was singing about just now, asshole?” Melanie kicks into the air. “She’s Pandora! Let us fucking go.” “You know Mr. Jones?” one guard asks me. “Mr. Jones!” I scoff. “Seriously! If Mackenna’s a mister, I’m a unicorn!” They seem to chuckle among themselves as they lead us past more security, around the stage, and to a small room in the back. One guy starts speaking into a radio as he unlocks the door. Melanie struggles and tries to kick out, but the enormity of what could happen starts settling on me, and I grow quiet. Holy. Shit. What have I done? “You don’t have to look so happy, dickface. My boyfriend will find your home too and kill you next!” she tells the other guard. They yank a door open and shove us inside. I stumble as I take a step, fighting for some dignity as I wiggle free of his grip. “Let go,” I grit, and he finally releases me. The radio transmitter on his hip emits a sound. A voice says something I can’t make out, but it sounds a lot like cursing. “Remove these,” one of the guards commands, pointing at our ponchos. I pry the plastic off my body and Melanie does the same, then we watch helplessly as they strip us of the bags we’d hidden underneath the ponchos. Melanie groans when they set our things on a table to the side. Cell phones. Two more tomatoes. Car keys. “Wow. You guys can’t take a little joke now, can you?” Melanie asks them with a haughty little scowl. I close my eyes and try to quell the panic rising in me. Fuuuuck. What was I thinking? I haven’t done anything this reckless in years. And it felt good. Also wrong. Very, very wrong. But good. Great, in fact. Hell, I can still picture the pissed, disbelieving look on Mackenna’s face. It gave me intense pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. But now the intense feeling I’m experiencing is more along the lines of paralyzing fear. What if the guards call him into the room to ask if he does, indeed, know me? What if I have to stand here in this small stuffy room and look at him from thisclose! I feel sick to my stomach. Later, Melanie’s going to want explanations. Big-time explanations; more than what I’ve told her so far. She’s going to have to tell Greyson what happened, and he’s going to want to know everything, because these stupid security guards messed with his girl. I don’t even know if I can explain to her the kind of past Mackenna and I share. January 22: the day I unfailingly get drunk and don’t bother to even see the light of day—I’d sworn to myself I’d never discuss that day. But Melanie and Greyson? They will want me to open my box of secrets. Of me and Mackenna Jones. Hot, wet mouths melding . . . Him, pushing into me, stretching me, taking me, loving me . . . Promises. Lies. Loss. Hatred. The kind of hatred that’s only born of an intense, out-of-this-world love that went woefully wrong. What am I going to say to him if I see him? What am I going to do? Please god, don’t punish me by making me look at him thisclose. I pace and pray, pace and pray while Melanie studies her nails, the wall, and me, sighing with the bored confidence of someone who knows she’s getting out of here intact. If I see Mackenna, I really doubt it'll be so easy. My stomach’s already in knots, and I’m having the most awful urge to vomit right now. The concert seems to last forever. One of the guards comes and goes while the other opts to stand a few feet behind Melanie, standing all military-like, as if waiting for something. Oh god, please let that something not be Mackenna. I’m wearing off a layer of my boots’ soles when, a century later, the door swings open and a chubby man in a suit and tie steps in. My blood pools in my feet from my nervousness. Lionel Palmer, the band manager, also known as “Leo.” I saw his face and interview in this morning’s paper, but I have to say he looked much happier in that picture. He glares at us—Melanie glaring back, me standing motionless—and his hands make meaty fists at his sides. “Have you any idea what you just did?” he grits out, chubby cheeks blazing red. “How long we could keep you two cozy in a fucking lady prison? What kind of fucking fans are you?” “We’re not fans,” Melanie says. The door swings open and the twins, in all their male glory, join the melee. They look intimidating all the time, but now—with their blond hair, odd-color eyes, and perfectly pissed-off scowls—they’re a force to be reckoned with. I can’t breathe. “Who the fuck are these bitches?” the one with the snake tattoo demands. “I’m getting to that, Jax,” Lionel says. So the other one must be Lexington. He charges forward and looks at me, eyebrow piercing and all, then he looks at Melanie. He points his index finger, swinging it from her to me. “I hope you two have a lot of money, because one of our dancers is injured. If she’s screwed up for Madison Square Garden—” “Don’t worry, Pandora, Greyson will take care of this,” Melanie says easily. “Pandora,” Lionel repeats suddenly. He grows still, his eyes sliding back to me. “Your friend called you Pandora. Why?” “Because it’s my name? Duh.” I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when the door swings open and a figure fills the space. I don’t think my heart is beating anymore. I feel like someone is strangling me and punching me on the inside. Mackenna. A few feet away. In the same room as me. Bigger and manlier than ever. He kicks the door shut behind him. He’s wearing aviators, so I can’t see his eyes, and ohmigod, I hate him with a passion. I came here to hurt him, but I’m so overcome by my anger, I can’t seem to do anything but stand here with my breath getting trapped in my lungs, my heart squeezing in my chest, my body trembling as all my suppressed anger bubbles up inside me. He is tall and dark, and the remains of a red gooey liquid trickle down his chest. But what a perfect chest, with its thin trail of hair that leads the way from his navel to his dick. Tight leather pants mold to his bulging thighs. A bulging cock too. I swear girls might think he sticks a loaf of bread down his pants, but I can assure you that fucker is real. As huge as his fucking ego, and I remember it used to get as hard as his fucking head. Not everyone can pull off a buzz cut, or a diamond stud earring, but he has a perfectly shaped head that makes you want to curl your hands around it and trace the curves with your lips. The diamond glints almost menacingly in his right ear, and when he takes off the sunglasses with an angry jerk, I see his brilliant, furious silver eyes, and I swear that it feels like coming home. To a home that was wrecked, and burned, and there’s nothing left, but it’s still your home. How fucked up is that? God, please let him not be real. Let this be a nightmare. Let him be on the other corner of the world while I hate him safely from my corner in Seattle. “She’s fucking Pandora?” Lionel asks Mackenna. When Mackenna’s hard jaw only tightens, Lionel turns slowly around to study me. My brain is a tangle of confusion because Mackenna is staring straight at me like he can’t believe I’m standing here. I can barely take his steely gaze. I thought this night would give me closure. That I could make him feel in front of his fans like I felt when he left: humiliated. Instead he stands there, every inch the rock god, even with tomato puree on his chest. He owns the room, carrying that unnamable X factor that nobody can pinpoint but that he has in spades, that tells you he owns this room and everyone in it. And that fact only serves to piss me off further. “Lionel,” he says in a low, warning tone. Just one word makes Lionel ease back. Now nothing stops Mackenna from staring straight at me. My face burns as I remember how I loved him. Deep, hard, completely. Don’t think about that. You hate him now! “Nice hair.” He shoves his glasses into the belt loops of his pants. His voice, oh god. His eyes run down the length of my hair, and Melanie offers, “I suggested she add a little spirit to her hair, so at least she looks happy.” He doesn’t even look at Melanie. He looks at me in the most intense way, specifically the pink strand in my hair, waiting for me to answer. I loathe that pink strand, but not as much as I loathe him. “Nice tights,” I return, and gesture to his leather pants. “How’d you get into them? From the top of a building and with a pound of butter?” I refuse to let his chuckle move me, but I feel it run down my legs as he starts approaching. “No need to use butter anymore. These pants are a part of me.” He holds my gaze helplessly trapped. “Like you were a part of me once.” He’s coming closer, and every step affects me. My cheeks burn. The gall of him to remind me. I’m so angry. Years of hurt simmer in me. Of loneliness and betrayal. “Fuck you, Mackenna.” “Already done, Pandora.” Series Reading Order Real (bk 1) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1CHl6sS Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35g8N Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zT7J31 iTunes: http://bit.ly/1tHrTct Mine (bk 2) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1I2nbzy Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1tHrdns Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zmq1cT iTunes: http://bit.ly/1yhymBF Remy (bk 3) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1vOn8T2 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1w35lcN Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ynVnBv iTunes: http://bit.ly/1vlqhom Rogue (bk 4) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1vOnjh8 Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FOFfJy Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1wvpqI6 iTunes: http://bit.ly/12xnylU Ripped (bk 5) 12/9 Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Bfzsi Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yia714 Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/11X9CAG iTunes: http://bit.ly/1ynQ9FV About The Author 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! Website: www.katyevans.net Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans Email: [email protected] Released July 29 2014 Synopsis Greyson King… My boyfriend. My friend. My protector. He’s the reason I wake up every morning with a smile on my face, and the reason I fall asleep limp, worn out, and aching for his warm arms around me. When we make love, he says my name like it means something. Like I mean something. He Lied. His name is Greyson King, but his alias is Zero. There’s zero trace of him, he has zero past, and now I know that with him, I will have zero future. He may leave no trace of him anywhere, but his imprint is in me, in my very soul—and I hate that a mere look at him commands the beat of my heart. The temperature of my body. I’ve looked for love my entire life. I’ve waited for the butterflies, the rainbows… Instead I’m in a free fall of emotions and there’s no one to catch me but the one man I should be running away from. The one man I thought was my prince charming. Except this prince charming went rogue. Greyson will stop at nothing to make me be with him. He’ll let no one stand in our way, will allow no one to threaten me, and maybe this is what scares me most of all… What will my rogue do to keep me? Other Books is the Real series by Katy Evans About The Author Katy Evans Katy Evans grew up with books and book-boyfriends until she found a real sexy boyfriend to love. They married and are now hard at work on their own happily ever after. Katy loves her family and friends, and she also loves reading, walking, baking, and being consumed by her characters until she reaches “The End.” Which is, hopefully, only the beginning… |
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