She's in for the fight of her life...with the man who only wants to be her lover.
Fighter Mia Anderson has faced the dark side of life and survived. But just getting by is no longer enough. To fund her new life with her baby sister, she’s determined to beat the reigning king of the male fighters in New York’s underground MMA circuit, Tray “Fox” Knox.
Tray refuses to fight a woman, until he learns Mia’s tougher than anyone he has ever known. He soon realizes he wants more from her than blows and blood, and he’s willing to hit below the belt to get it. He’ll fight her, but if he wins, she spends the night in his bed. All night long, his rules. No tapping out.
Mia agrees, certain that he’ll lose. What she doesn’t realize is that Tray loves to fight dirty…and that this match may end up being the most important one of their lives.
**A NOTE** No men actually hit any women in this book, in the ring or out.
USA Today bestselling author Cari Quinn wrote her first story—a bible parable—in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. Now she gets to pen sexy romances for a living and routinely counts her lucky stars. When she’s not scribbling furiously, she can usually be found watching men’s college basketball, playing her music way too loud or causing trouble. Sometimes simultaneously.
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Excerpt:
Leaning against the polished, well-worn wood, I smiled at the blonde bartender on duty and opened my mouth to speak. The words disappeared under the shout of indignation from the back room. Female, from the high-pitched quality to the sound. Sort of like a weasel in heat.
“Gimme a freaking break, Carmine. I’m no worse now than I’ve been a million times before.”
I couldn’t hear Carmine’s reply but I guessed it couldn’t be good, judging by the next deafening noise that erupted from the squealer.
I glanced at the blonde, whose pale pink lips had rounded into a surprised ‘O’. “Unhappy employee?” I suggested, offering her a wide grin as I rested my arms on the bar. I’d shoved up the sleeves of my jacket and the shirt I wore beneath—I was always hot, even in the middle of winter—and her gaze dropped appreciatively to my forearms. I’d seen the look before and counted on it to get me laid when I wanted to. Unfortunately I wasn’t looking for sex today, not even with this delicious little treat. “If so, my timing seems especially fortuitous.” She blinked, making me think she didn’t know what I meant. Inwardly I sighed and tucked the frustration under another charming smile. “I’m here about the job in the window,” I added.
Before she could answer, the door to the back room swung open hard enough to hit the opposite wall. Out strode the most furious chick I’d ever seen. She’d twisted up her long black hair to show off her face. That might’ve been a good thing, had she not looked like she’d recently met a ton of bricks with her lips. They were swollen and split, but I could tell they were a good size even when they weren’t torn open. She had dark eyes and lashes and winter-white pale skin, which revealed all of the assorted marks and wounds—most of them fresh—that made her look so disturbingly…broken.
Since I liked breaking things myself, I was intrigued.
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