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.
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.
I feel as though I should go ahead and say this so that the
“hatin” can be over with! I have NOT
read Real or Mine. I have read Remy
though, obviously because I am doing a review for it! Now I’m sure that you can be asking why I’m
finally joining the series, with the third book, but the fact is that I finally
read it! And after reading this one, I
do have plans on reading Real and Mine at some point in the future.
Onto Remy, I have complete mixed emotions about this
book. I think it could be because I had
no clue what was going on from the previous books, or it could just be that the
story itself was confusing. I do have to
say though that I completely loved the fact that it was told from Remy’s
POV. I am a sucker for books that are
told from a male’s perspective, just because it adds something different to the
story.
I also liked the fact that during this book there were
flashbacks from Remy. Granted, I probably don’t understand a lot of what had
happened in the prior books, but I was still able to get a slight understanding
of what was going on.
Now with Remy, I have no idea what to say about him. While I enjoyed the fight scenes, I’m strange
like that; the parts of the book that didn’t have to do with the fighting just
feel flat for me. It seemed like every
time Remy did something, he was blaming it on the fact that he is bipolar. I’m sorry, but if I were to beat the crap out
of someone because I was having a mood swing, I would be in jail. And let alone the fact that he seems to
“fornicate” his way through his “black” times?
Yeah if it was a woman, they wouldn’t have had such a great
following.
And don’t get me started on
Brooke! I mean seriously, she knows how he is yet she still falls into bed with
him? And then she does the whole “oh if
you want me you will have sex with me” thing. Yeah that didn’t really work that
well for me. While her character does
seem rather nice, I just wasn’t feeling her that much.
I’m sure after reading my review,
you are going to wonder why it is that I rated this book the way that I did,
and I have to say… The book was interesting!
It kept my attention throughout it all and even though I couldn’t stand
quite a few parts of the book, I would have to say if you have read the other
books in the series, you should read this one as well.
The Seattle crowd is wild tonight. Backstage,
the noise reverberates between the walls, bounces off the metal lockers in the
room where I prepare with some of the other fighters. I watch Coach bandage the
fingers of one hand, and all I can think of is how Brooke Dumas is out there
among the spectators, sitting in one of the seats I bought for her.
I’m so jacked up I feel like I’m
plugged into a fucking electrical outlet. Blood pumps heady through my veins.
My muscles are loose and warm and ready to contract and strike anything in my
path. I’m ready to put on a fucking show and there’s one girl, one lovely girl,
that’s got me tied up in knots, that I want to see me fight.
I hand Coach my other
hand and stare at my bare knuckles as he shoots off the same instructions he
always says.
My guard . . .
patience . . . balance . . .
I zone out, letting
his words slip through me and into my subconscious, where they belong. Right
before a fight, I find a calm. I can hear all the noise but listen to nothing.
A clarity comes with fighting. Every detail sharpening in your mind.
This sharpness and
awareness makes me lift my head to the doorway. She stands there like out of
some childhood dream, looking at nobody but me.
She wears a pair of
white jeans and a pink top that makes her skin look even tanner than it is and
so damn lickable my tongue hurts inside my mouth. Neither of us so much as
twitches as we stare.
Hammer steps into my
peripherals, and when I see him head straight for her, my anger ignites.
With deadly calm, I
grab the tape from Coach and throw it aside as I stalk over to her. Then, I
position myself directly behind her and to her right, taking my spot in a way
that lets the dipshit Hammer know I was born
to be here. Beside, behind, and by her.
“Just walk off,” I
warn him, my voice low but lethal.
He doesn’t seem
inclined to listen, instead narrows his eyes in contest. “She yours?” he asks
with narrowed eyes.
Nodding, I narrow my
eyes and let my gaze burn into him. “I can guarantee you, she’s not yours.”
The asshole leaves,
and I notice Brooke doesn’t move for a long second, as if she doesn’t want to
step away from me in the same way I don’t want her to go anywhere. Holy god,
she smells good.
I drag her scent to my
lungs like a junkie, and suddenly every inch of my body wants to cup her hips
and draw her into me so I can scent her more. She turns her head to mine and
softly murmurs, “Thank you,” but quickly leaves. I duck my head and haul in as
much as I can before she walks away.
I remain standing there,
feeling dizzy, my shorts ridiculously tented.
“Riptide! Hammer! You’re up next!”
Exhaling as I hear my name, I glance
narrowly at Hammer across the room, who seems amused as fuck that I am clearly
in deep shit with this girl.
He’s in even deeper shit with me.
“Remington . . . are you listening
to me?”
I whip around to Coach, who’s fixing
that last bandage he couldn’t secure. I keep glaring at Hammer as Riley extends
my satin robe, and as I ram my arms into the sleeves, I decide Hammer better be prepared to vacation in a coma for a
while.
“I said don’t let that bastard get
to your head.” Coach knocks his knuckles to my temples. “And that girl
neither.”
“That girl’s been in his head since
the first fight here,” Riley tells him with a smirk. “Hell, he wants to carry
that girl around with him like an accessory on tour. Pete is drafting the
contract as we speak.”
Coach pokes a finger into my chest
and I feel it almost bending. “I don’t give a shit what you’re planning to do
tonight with the girl. You keep your head in the fight going on right now. You got that?”
I don’t answer, but obviously I get
it. I don’t need to be told these things. Half a fight is in your head. But
Coach likes feeling useful, so I just roll with it and trot out. I’ve fought all
my life to stay sane. To keep focused, driven, and centered. But tonight, I
fight to show one woman my worth.
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!
0 comments:
Post a Comment