Meet
Maverick “The Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the REAL
series releasing February 9th!
AVAILABLE NOW
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
At Tate’s corner, outside the ropes,
his coach whistles. “You two get some headgear on. Stat.”
Tate’s lips curl rebelliously, and
he looks at me with challenge in his eyes.
I smile back, a feral curl of my
lips.
We tap gloves.
No headgear.
I jab. He swings his arm, blocks the
hit, leaps back, and I jab again, blocked again.
We space apart and jump in place,
shaking our shoulders, loosening up. I pull my gloves back up, narrow my eyes,
and he asks, “You think you’re the shit because you’re fast and strong? I got
news for you. I’m faster, I’m stronger, and I’m disciplined. Your coach isn’t
doing you any favors.”
“He’s in my corner, and that’s
enough for me.”
He swings, I duck fast and come up
behind him. He straightens and faces me again. “If you settle for that, then
you should settle for second place.”
“What the fuck. You want me to win?”
“I want a good fight. I like keeping
things real. Reminds me I’m a man. Mortal.”
“I want to be a legend. Legends
never die. Even if they die alone.”
He swings again, and I duck, come
up, and jab three times.
He blocks repeatedly, then hooks with
his right; I deflect. He grins and jabs again. I block, then I duck before he
puts me up against the ropes, and I head back to center. He follows.
“To be a legend you need to fall
seven times, get up eight,” he says.
I remember a final a few years ago when
my father kicked Tate to a pulp. “Or not fall at all.”
He backs up his arm and then smacks
the smirk right off me. “Before you stop falling, you need to embrace the fact
that you’re going to hit the ground.”
I clean the blood from my mouth,
glowering.
We take positions again, and he
watches me as if waiting for my next move as we start dancing around, jumping,
waiting for the other to strike.
“Do you want the headgear now?”
I lunge and start hitting, and he
blocks, deflects, blocks. “Fuck you,” I grit out.
“Getting angry doesn’t help. You
control the anger, not let it control you.”
I want to prove him wrong; I loop
out my arm and aim for his head.
He ducks and hooks, his knuckles
cracking into my jaw. I spurt blood and bounce against the ropes.
I shake my head, wipe the blood
away, grit my teeth and straighten, narrowing my eyes. “My turn,” I growl, and
I swing. My fist connects: a kidney punch.
He blocks my next hit, frowning in
thought. “You’re cocky for someone who just lost yesterday.”
He jabs.
I dive my upper body to the side,
evading. “You got to play it to become it.”
“I’m the champion, not you.”
“You won’t live forever, champ.”
He jabs three times, then leaps
back, flexes his arm and looks at it.
“Muscle memory. You hit enough
times, you fight on instinct; part of your brain works on your assault, the
other is focused on the other’s assault. Let your muscle memory work for you
and consciously stay focused on your opponent’s eyes.”
I laugh mockingly. “I don’t need your pointers.”
“Go back home to daddy, then.”
“When I’m finished with you.” I
punch him, then raise my left hook and connect hard enough to stun him.
He raises his head, shakes it to
clear it, and wipes blood from his nose. I catch my breath, satisfied I got
some blood. At least I won’t be the only one with an ice pack tonight.
He sees the blood on his arm and
looks at me, impressed.
“TIME!” his coach yells out from the
corner. “You two won’t have shit for the fight if you keep up this nonsense.”
Tate grins at him, then turns back
and glowers at me. “You get enough?”
“Barely warming up here.” I squint
the blood out of one eye and raise my gloves. “Come get it, Riptide,” I growl.
Real (Book One) The Real Series
Mine
(Book Two) The Real Series
Remy
(Book Three) The Real Series
Rogue
(Book Four) The Real Series
Ripped
(Book Five) The Real Series
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!
Email:
authorkatyevans@gmail.com
