Blog Tour, Excerpt,& Giveaway for MINE by Katy Evans
Title: Mine
Author: Katy Evans
Date for Re-Release of Paperback: November 5, 2013
Publisher: Gallery Books
Blog Tour Hosted by: The SUBClub Books
Synopsis
“I will do
anything to make her MINE.” —Remington Tate
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 “Remy” 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, Brooke is torn away from the ringside. Now with distance and darkness between them, the only thing left is to fight for the love of the man she calls MINE.
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 “Remy” 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, Brooke is torn away from the ringside. Now with distance and darkness between them, the only thing left is to fight for the love of the man she calls MINE.
Teaser
4:
I hear his laughter in
the living area, more like a soft chuckle over something Pete murmured, and my
insides do all the stuff he makes them do as I round the corner.
My god.
I can’t believe what he
does to me. I can’t even explain this shivering-shuddering-twittering
combination inside me, but it’s ridiculous.
“But he’s checking up on you, dude, I don’t
see the amusement here,” Pete says, in alarm. “His scouts have been asking all
around the hotels to know where we’ll be staying next.”
“Just relax and keep watch, Pete,” Remington
says, and I just stare for a moment, hearing a catch in my breath.
My blue-eyed lion.
His black hair stands
up devilishly. The inky Celtic bands across his muscled arms flex as he slowly
sips on an electrolyte drink. I see his glorious tanned torso. Those sweatpants
riding low on his narrow hips and revealing just the tip of his star tattoo.
His bare feet. He looks hot,
strong, and cuddlable, and the pulsing energy that seems to radiate from his
very being feels like a magnet to me.
“Brooke, good morning!” Diane Werner, his chef
and nutritionist, says from the kitchen.
Almost lazily,
Remington turns and slowly, ever so slowly, stands, his muscles rippling with
the move. Brilliant blue eyes rake over my body, taking me in in his red robe,
which drapes all the way down to my ankles, and a territorial gleam sparks in
his gaze in a way that makes every single womanly part of me tighten with
wanting.
“Well, hello there,
Miss Riptide,” Pete jumps in, his brown eyes glowing in amusement.
I smile. Because I not
only want to wear my Riptide’s clothes, I wish he’d ask me to wear his name even when I’d once told my best
friend I would never, ever, marry because my career would always come first.
Snort!
“Hey, Pete and Diane,”
I say in a sleepy voice, but my eyes are on Remington, and my heart won’t stand
still.
Will it ever stand
still when I’m around him? As I stare at him this morning just like every
morning for the past few months, I tell myself I am not dreaming, he’s not a
fantasy, he is real. My REAL.
He saved my sister from
the claws of a man I can’t even name. Remington threw last season’s
championship fight in exchange for her freedom—without even hesitating. Without
even telling me. He lost his title, a
huge amount of money, and could have lost his
life, all to rescue my sister Nora.
But I didn’t know it was for me.
All I knew was that
suddenly he was at the last season’s fight. Losing. Being beaten. Battered.
Falling down. Getting up. Spitting at Scorpion.
I wanted to die.
My fighter, always so
driven, persistent, passionate, and determined, refused to fight.
God, I was so, so
wrong.
He wasn’t punishing
me—he was saving my sister for me.
If he hadn’t come back
to my hometown of Seattle, with Nora delivered back safely, I’d have made the
biggest mistake of my life, and I’d have paid for it for the rest of my life.
I’d have lived the rest
of my days loveless, smileless, and worst of all, Remyless. Like I would have
deserved.
As I struggle with the
thousand pounds of remorse this memory gives me, his dimples flash, and if I
thought I was happy moments ago, nothing compares to this avalanche.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“So my little
firecracker lives,” he says with a devilish glint in his eye.
“Only barely after
you.”
He bursts out laughing,
and Pete coughs. “Guys, I’m kind of still here, and so is Diane.”
My smile fades, but
although Remington’s doesn’t, his smile softens, and so does the look in his
eyes. Suddenly, he makes me feel shy. Virginal. Like he stripped me naked last
night and this morning I am without all my bravado, without any stitch of
protection, wearing only something that belongs to him.
Still using those
dimples like lethal weapons against me, he comes over.
My body is all over the
place as I force myself to walk and meet him halfway, and I bite back a squeak
when he reaches out one muscled arm, hooks one finger into the sash of my robe,
and pulls me the last distance to him.
“Get over here,” he rumbles.
He bends his head and
sets a kiss on the back of my ear as he spreads his hand open on the small of
my back, stroking up to the riptide
letters on the back, as if to remind me they are there. I’m breathless when he
ducks his head to my neck and drags in a long, deep inhale of me. Shit, he
kills me when he does that, and between my legs, I feel a painful little clench
of need.
“Remington, are you
listening to me?” Pete asks.
Remington growls my
name softly, low and deep, in the way he does when he fucks it. “Good morning, Brooke Dumas.” My tummy
clenches in response to that, and the soft kiss he sets on my ear, my knees
going buttery, because he always does this to me, and as Pete’s voice repeats
what he just said, I start stepping away, but Remington won’t let me.
He kicks the chair
farther out and drops down, hauling me with him. Then he shifts me to one of
his thighs so he can grab his sports drink from the table and finally looks at
Pete, his voice low but firm. “Double our scouts and follow theirs.”
His fingers trace down
my back as he downs the bottle, and Pete is left scratching and shaking his
head in complete confusion.
“Rem . . . dude
. . . the fucking bastard cheated to win, and he knows he’s going to lose as long as you’re fighting this
season. He’s spying on us now, and he’s going to do his best to sabotage you
this year. He’s going to try to screw with your head. Provoke the shit out of
you!”
I’m barely wrapping my
head around the topic, but whatever it is, “provoking” Remington is not a good
idea. He’s got a temper, usually. He’s hard-headed and insistent and stubborn,
but especially, he is Bipolar 1, and you don’t want to rouse his black side
unless you’re prepared to deal with over two-hundred pounds of reckless that
doesn’t sleep.
I like my over
two-hundred pounds of reckless, but his reckless still worries me even if he
doesn’t seem in the slightest perturbed by Pete’s warnings.
Instead of answering
his PA, he turns to me and threads his fingers at the hair on my nape. “Do you
want breakfast?” he asks me.
Biting the inside of my
cheek, I lean over and drop my voice to spare Pete. “You mean aside from the
one that walked out of my bed?” He pinches my nose and now leans to me.
“Business called your breakfast out of bed today.”
“I actually feel
strangely hung over this morning, I’m not hungry at all.”
“Hung over from what?
My mouth?” he asks, his eyes dancing.
I look at his mouth and
it is so full and perfect. The way he uses it is perfect. Every measured word
he speaks is perfect. Sexy bastard. Of course he gives me hangovers, the kinds
I’d never met until him.
“You know,” Pete interjects, “I’d feel less
concerned about him and what he plans to do if he didn’t know your Kryptonite
now.” He nods at me.
“He’s not getting even
near my Kryptonite. I’ll break him first.” The quiet conviction with which he
says this makes gooseflesh jump on my arms, and I think I’m a little nauseous.
Last season’s final
match is my worst nightmare.
“Yet I can totally
envision him finding ways to reach out to your Kryptonite already,” Pete says. “Finding
ways to push your red button, get you all bothered and reckless.”
Remington turns to me,
then he shoves my hair aside and tips my head back to study me, like he knows I
can barely hear that man’s name—much less hear them talk about it.
The Black Scorpion is
my own personal Voldemort. That asshole hurt my sister, then me. And worst of
all, he hurt Remington. At that season final. He hurt him because of me. God, I fantasize of killing the
bastard.
“He’s gonna tease you, torment you . . .” Pete
continues in an ominous tone.
Remy
watches me in silence, his chest bare, his neck tanned and strong, and when he
turns his attention back to Pete, his voice is more somber.
“Pete, he hasn’t even
made a play, and you’re losing your shit,” he tells him.
“’Cause I’m the one
left to fix things when you lose it,”
Pete smoothes a hand down his black tie. “This season could get downright
nasty. We want you strong and prepared, dude. We need to head to the airport in
a half hour, tops, but I warn you, Phoenix might not be as calm as we
anticipated.”
“I’ll keep it together.
Just double our scouts,” Remington says, serious now, then he takes one last
swig of his sports drink and sets the empty bottle aside.
“All right, let me call
in some more . . . . ” I watch Pete head over to the kitchen and punch his cell
phone pad.
Now Remington’s voice
deepens as he gives me his undivided attention. “You overslept,” he murmurs,
cupping my face as he smiles down at me. “Wore you out last night?”
His voice oozes all
kinds of sex and tenderness. As I nod, I feel myself go warm inside. “I hear
sex gods do that,” I tease.
He laughs softly and
strokes my lips with his thumb. “That’s right. You ready to go?”
I nip his thumb and
smile as I nod.
“I missed you in bed
this morning,” I whisper.
“God, me too. I need to
be the first thing those pretty eyes see every morning.”
He presses me to him
and buries his face in my hair, and all the tension from hearing the word “Scorpion”
and the nausea leaves me when I smell him. I tuck my nose into his chest and
inhale him as he inhales me, and the room falls, and the world falls, and in
this moment nothing matters. Nothing matters but him, his arms around me and my
arms around him. I think a part of him still can’t believe I’m in his arms
again, because he’s squeezing me so tight I can hardly breathe, but I don’t want
to breathe. I’m so affected by his scent, the feel of his powerful arms around
me, when just two months ago I’d stupidly given up on him, I can barely take
it.
“I love you,” I whisper, and when he doesn’t
respond, I open my eyes and shiver when I see his fierce gaze trained on me. He
rubs my bottom lip with his thumb again, then tucks me back into his chest as
if I’m precious. He lowers his head, his lips to my ear: “You’re mine now.”
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About Katy Evans
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
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans
Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com
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