Meet Maverick “The
Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the REAL series releasing
February 9th!
AVAILABLE NOW
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Blurb
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
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
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Mine
(Book Two) The Real Series
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Remy
(Book Three) The Real Series
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Rogue
(Book Four) The Real Series
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Ripped
(Book Five) The Real Series
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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!
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans
Email:
authorkatyevans@gmail.com
THANK YOU!
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