Author: Katy Evans
Series: Real #6
Publisher: Gallery Books
Release Date: February 6, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase: Amazon US
Purchase: Barnes & Noble
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.
Meet Maverick “The Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the Real series releasing February 9th!
‘Not in a million years, kid.’
‘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.
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.
A fallen boxer.
A woman with a broken dream.
He even 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?
He’s mine, and I’m his. Our love is all-consuming, powerful,
imperfect, and real…
In the international bestseller REAL, the unstoppable bad boy of the Underground fighting circuit finally met his match. Hired to keep him in prime condition, Brooke Dumas unleashed a primal desire in Remington “Riptide” Tate as vital as the air he breathes… and now he can’t live without her.
Brooke never imagined she would end up with the man who is every woman’s dream, but not all dreams end happily ever after, and just when they need each other the most, she is torn away from his side. Now with distance and darkness between them, the only thing left is to fight for the love of the man she calls mine.
Underground fighter Remington Tate is a mystery, even to himself. His mind is dark and light, complex and enlightening. At times his actions and moods are carefully measured, and at others, they spin out of control.
Through it all, there’s been one constant: wanting, needing, loving, and protecting Brooke Dumas. This is his story; from the first moment he laid eyes on her and knew, without a doubt, she would be the realest thing he’s ever had to fight for.
He says he’s no good for her.
She hates that he might be right.
Brook Dumas found Remington Tate in REAL, and now it’s her best friend Melanie’s turn to find the man who makes her heart sing. After years of searching, one night in the rain, the strong and mysterious Greyson King comes to her rescue. He’s bold, and maybe just the lover, friend, and protector she’s been searching for. When they make love, he says her name like it means something. Like she means something—and that’s everything she’s ever wanted.
He disappears for days without a word, and when he’s around, he says he’ll only hurt her. Buy when he’s away, her heart hurts more.
Then Melanie uncovers the dark world he’d been determined to keep hidden, and suspects that their random first meeting might have not been so random after all.
Caught in a free fall of emotions, Melanie has no one to catch her but the man she should be running from. . .
But what do you do when your Prince Charming has gone Rogue?
Every woman wants me–except the one I sing for.
Seattle shakes with anticipation: they call it the concert of the year. They say girls are getting pregnant just thinking about Crack Bikini being in town.
But when you love a girl, you don’t leave her with nothing but a ring and a promise. Any man with half a brain should know.
So what did I expect my girl would do when she saw me again?
Well, for starters, she loathes our music. Particularly the song I wrote about her.
When I sing it, the stadium is in an uproar. Thousands of fans scream my name like I’m a god–but yeah, not her. Crystal clear: the girl’s not happy to see me.
Black hair, black boots, a bad attitude, that’s her — Pandora Stone is a freaking man-eater and she’s out for my blood.
Let her come at me. Because I’m out for her heart and, this time, there’s no way she can stop me.