katy evans

Book Review: Rogue (The REAL series Book 4) by Katy Evans

Title: Rogue (The REAL series Book 4)  
Author: Katy Evans
Release Date: July 29th, 2014
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Rating: ★★★

The fourth story in the new adult series that began with the New York Times bestseller Real, featuring Brooke’s best friend, Melanie, and the ROGUE she can’t resist.

Greyson King…
My boyfriend. My friend. My protector. He’s the reason I wake up every morning with a smile on my face, and the reason I fall asleep limp, worn out, and aching for his warm arms around me. When we make love, he says my name like it means something. Like I mean something.
He
Lied.
His name is Greyson King, but his alias is Zero.
There’s zero trace of him, he has zero past, and now I know that with him, I will have zero future.
He may leave no trace of him anywhere, but his imprint is in me, in my very soul–and I hate that a mere look at him commands the beat of my heart. The temperature of my body.
I’ve looked for love my entire life. I’ve waited for the butterflies, the rainbows…
Instead I’m in a free fall of emotions and there’s no one to catch me but the one man I should be running away from. The one man I thought was my prince charming.
Except this prince charming went rogue.
Greyson will stop at nothing to make me be with him. He’ll let no one stand in our way, will allow no one to threaten me, and maybe this is what scares me most of all…
What will my rogue do to keep me?

“At a very young age I was taught that there were no certainties in life. Life itself is not a certainty, nor is friendship, or love. But given the first, you have the certainty of an opportunity to chase after your friendships, live your life, and search for love.”

Melanie’s life is empty. Lost in a world she believes was not meant for her. Accepting her false truth, Melanie is going through the motions. Working, family, and friends. Filling the emptiness with a parade of nameless facesin hopes of feeling her own real, she stumbles upon the one man that holds her attention and leaves her breathless. For her its kismet but for a rouge man nothing is left to fate.

“I look at him, and he doesn’t scare me. He lures me. He tempts me, exhilarates me. He makes me want to claim him as if I’m claiming back a part of me that was once lost.”

Enter Greyson King, better known as Zero. To the Underground, Greyson is a finisher. In and out. Zero accountability, Greyson is the beginning, middle, and end. Pulled back underground in hopes of filling his own emptiness, he finds that the one thing he wants won’t allow for zero liability.

“Do you know what it feels like to carry the weight of a dead heart with you your whole life, like you’re just looking for your grave?”

Rouge takes on a whole new feel, differentthan previous books in the Real Series, offering a darker look into the operation known as The Underground. If you are looking for more Remy and Brooke be prepared for a bit of a letdown. Katy has used Rogue to create layers to an already heavy story. Greyson and Melanie are a little darker, flawed, and just as lovable as their predecessors. I enjoyed Greyson and Melanie’s story. Although I didn’t feel as connected to them as Remy and Brooke, the story was well written and keep me interested.

“Always you, just you. You may be zero in your world…but you’re everything to me.”

Katy Evans grew up with books and book-boyfriends until she found a real sexy boyfriend to love. They married and are now hard at work on their own happily ever after. Katy loves her family and friends, and she also loves reading, walking, baking, and being consumed by her characters until she reaches “The End.” Which is, hopefully, only the beginning…

Blog Tour: Remy by Katy Evans (Review, Excerpt and Giveaways)

Book Title: Remy
Author: Katy Evans
Date of Publication: November 26, 2013 
Publisher: Gallery Books
Blog Tour Hosted by: The SUBClub Books

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.

New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans expands upon the intense love story begun in Real–this time from Remington “Riptide” Tate’s point of view.

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.

“…the ring awaits. Twenty – three feet by twenty – three feet, four ropes parallel on each side, four fucking posts, and that’s about it.”

TKO! Third time is a charm! Remy! Remy! Remy!

“That ring is a home to me. When I’m not on it, I miss it. When I train, I think about it. Every step I take in its direction pumps me up and gets me going…It’s my ring. My crowd. My fight. My fucking night.”

Katy Evans has done a wonderful job of bringing this story full circle, or maybe full ring, by gifting the readers what we wanted most…more Remy. This beautifully complicated man could fill hundreds of pages. A stone cold stance, loaded iPod, one two punch, and an undeniable ache for his Little Firecracker, Brooke, confirm that the story is never complete till we read it through a male point of view.

“Mine. If I’d even known she existed before, I would have hunted her. I would have caught and conquered her.”

Learning what was inside the gentle giant gave this series a new twist. Like many other book boyfriend alpha males, Remy’s inner monologue provided a heart breaking rewind on the first two books. Although I knew the story I still enjoyed what Remy had to offer. It was a great recap with a little more. This series makes me want to pull out my Rocky box set! That moment when Rocky calls out for Adrian so reminds me of Remy and Brooke! True love will never suffer a TKO.

We go toe-to-toe. I feint and Hammer swings, opening his side. So I jab his ribs, feel the satisfying punch race up my arm, and we bounce apart. Hammer is stupid in the head. He falls for all my feints and never covers right. I ram him hard enough to make him bounce on the ropes and drop to his knees. He shakes his head and hops to his feet after a moment. I love this. My heart pumps slowly. My every muscle knows where to move, what to do, where to send my power—right from my center, up my chest, shoulder, down the length of my arms, to the tips of my fucking knuckles that hit with the force of a charging bull.
I take him down, and then I do the same with the next foe. And the next.
A powerful energy takes over me as I fight, and I fight knowing that Brooke Dumas watches me. If there’s anything in my head other than winning, it’s that I want her to think inside that lovely round head of hers that she has never, ever, seen a man like me.
By the time the tenth guy falls, sweat coats my chest, and as the ringmaster raises my arm, I’m anxious to see the look in her eyes. I want to see that she liked it, that she—like everyone else in this room—thinks I’m the shit. Our eyes lock, my gut goes hard and twisted and wild with desire, and I smile at her as I try to catch my breath.
When the ringmaster releases my arm, I cross the ring, jump over the cord, and land in the aisle, watching her part her lips in shock as I come over.
People go crazy when I go outside the ring, and they’re losing their shit right now.
The whole room screams with their applause and cheers. And I know they all can see where my gaze rests and where I’m headed.
“Kiss his heart out, woman!”
“You don’t deserve him, you bitch!”
“You go, girl!”
I smile down at this woman who has stolen my thoughts, and as I wonder if she wants me to, she looks pleadingly up at me, almost begging me not to kiss her here. My blood simmers as I remember her lips on mine, but it won’t be happening again.
Not until you’re ready, Brooke Dumas.
I bend to her and scent her hair, whispering at her temple, “Sit tight. I’ll send someone over for you.”
I back off before I lose it, and climbing up into the ring, I steal one last look at her. My chest does all kinds of strange things when our eyes lock.
“Riptide, people!” the announcer screams.
The yells feed me. I suck them in with a smile, full of pride and satisfaction. I can see in every one of these people’s eyes that I’m the man. But I want to see it in her eyes. That. I’m. The Man.
The man who wants to be hers.

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!
           
Promo: Real                 Review: Mine

BLOG TOUR: MINE BY KATY EVANS (REVIEW)

Title: Mine
Author: Katy Evans
Date for Re-Release of Paperback: November 5, 2013
Publisher: Gallery Books
Blog Tour Hosted by: The SUBClub Books

“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.
He’s mine, and I’m his. Our love is all-consuming, powerful,
imperfect, and real…
Remy, 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 “Riptide” 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, she is torn away from his side. Now with distance and darkness between them, the only thing left is to fight for the love of the man she calls MINE. 

“The heart is a hollow muscle, and it will beat billions of times during our lives…All I know is that I feel this love in every molecule in my body, every breath I take, all the infinity in my soul. I learned that you can’t run if you tear a ligament, but your heart can be broken into a million pieces, and you can still love with your whole being. I’ve been broken and put together again…but now I dream solely of a blue-eyed fighter who one day changed my life, when he put his lips on mine…”

Katy Evans, thank you! Thank you for gifting us with REMY! Let me tell you that there is nothing hotter then a man with tapped knuckles, a silk boxing robe, and one hell of a fight face! I mean REALLY! Alpha male to the extreme and Brooke knows that the good out weighs the bad with it comes to Remy. 

“My every cell knows this is my mate and prepares me for him. Just him.”

Brooke is back on the payroll to better Remy’s mind, body, and soul. In the best shape of his life Remy is working to claim what he lost in Real. The top spot was taken from him and not for lack of power but for something more…love. 

“Baby, the way you need me can only barely cover half of the way I need you.”

Scorpion is also back. Insert boos and hisses! Right! Evil in its pure form! There is no end to his wick games in and out of the ring. Remy’s secret weapon come in one size…Brooke. With her, Remy is ready for the fight of his life in more ways them one.

“Remy, take care of her! She plays a tough little cookie, but her melted chocolate center is for you, you know!”

In MINE Brooke learns that her deeply completed man is all she needs. His love for her is true and all encompassing. 

“Nobody ever taught him how to love. He does it instinctively.”

Both Remy and Brooke are two halves that complete and competent each other. Love in its pure raw from, beautiful and real. 

“Every second that you and I breath, you belong to me.”

MINE is a follow up that gives you what you are looking for…more! More Remy, more love, more fighting, and most importantly more music. The use of music in this series is incredible! Remy’s wingman, his iPod, creates remarkable moments that only music can produce. Book three, REMY, will be the third round KO for this unbelievable raw yet touching series. I am so looking forward to living it all over again through the eyes of the people’s champion…REMY!

“When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am” GooGoo Dolls Iris

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!

PROMO BLITZ: REAL by KATY EVANS

Real, Raw, & Ripped
Title: Real
Author: Katy Evans

A fallen boxer.
A woman with a broken dream.
A competition…
He even makes me forget my name. One night was all it took, and I forgot everything and anything except the sexy fighter in the ring who sets my mind ablaze and my body on fire with wanting…
Remington Tate is the strongest, most confusing man I’ve ever met in my life.
He’s the star of the dangerous underground fighting circuit, and I’m drawn to him as I’ve never been drawn to anything in my life. I forget who I am, what I want, with just one look from him. When he’s near, I need to remind myself that I am strong–but he is stronger. And now it’s my job to keep his body working like a perfect machine, his taut muscles primed and ready to break the bones of his next opponents . . .
But the one he’s most threatening to, now, is me.
I want him. I want him without fear. Without reservations.
If only I knew for sure what it is that he wants from me?
“I’m Remington.”

BROOKE
Melanie has been shouting in my ear for the past half hour and my nerves are so frazzled by what we’re witnessing, I can barely even hear anything. Only my heart. Beating like crazy in my head as the two fighters in the underground boxing ring lunge at each other, both men equal in height and weight, both extremely muscled as they pound each other’s faces in.
Every time one of them lands a punch, cheers and claps burst across the room, which is crowded with at least three hundred spectators, all of them thirsting for blood. The worst part of it all is that I can hear the god-awful sound of bone cracking against flesh, and the hairs on my arms prick in utter fear. Any minute now I expect one of them to fall and never, ever, get up again.
“Brooke!” Melanie, my best friend, squeals and hugs me. “You look ready to puke, you are so not cut out for this!”
I’m seriously going to kill her.
As soon as I take my eyes off these men and make sure they’re both breathing when they finish this round, I’m going to murder my best friend. And then myself for agreeing to come here in the first place.
But my poor, dear Melanie has been internet-stalking her new man-crush, and as soon as she found out the object of her nightly fantasies was in the city participating in these “private” and very “dangerous” underground club fighting games, she begged me to come with her and watch him. It’s just hard to say no to Melanie. She’s effusive and insistent, and now she’s jumping around in glee.
“He’s next,” she hisses, not caring who won or lost this last round, or if they even survived. Which apparently, thank god, they both did. “Get ready for some serious piece of eye candy, Brookey!”
The public falls silent, and the announcer calls, “Ladies and gentlemen, and noooww . . . the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the man you’re all here to see. The baddest of the bad, I give you the one, the only, Remington ‘Riptide’ Tate!”
A shiver runs along my spine as the crowd goes crazy over the name alone, especially the women, and their eager shouts tumble one atop the other.
“Remy! I love you, Remy!”
“I’ll suck your cock for you, Remy!”
“REMY, POUND ME, REMY!”
“Remington I want your Riptide!”
All heads turn as a figure in a hooded red robe trots toward the ring. The fighters tonight apparently don’t wear boxing gloves but tape, and I see his fingers flex and fist at his sides, his taped hands enormous and his knuckles tanned, his fingers long.
Across the ring from me, a woman waves a poster reading remy’s #1 bitch proudly in the air, and she’s screaming the same thing at the top of her lungs in his direction—I guess in case he doesn’t know how to read, or misses the neon pink letters, or the glitter.
I’m so astounded, realizing my crazy best friend isn’t the only female in Seattle who’s apparently lost her head for this guy, when I feel her squeezing my arm. “I dare you to look at him and tell me you wouldn’t do anything for that man.”
“I wouldn’t do anything for that man,” I instantly repeat, just to win.
“You’re not looking!” she squeals. “Look at him. Look.”
She grabs my face and swings my gaze in the direction of the ring, but I start laughing instead. Melanie loves men. Loves to sleep with them, stalk them, drool about them, and yet, when she catches them, she can never really hold onto them. I, on the other hand, am not interested in getting involved with anyone.
I’m still at that awkward no,thanks phase when I get any attention. I guess I haven’t felt that good about myself in a while. Plus my romantic little sister, Nora, has had enough boyfriends, and drama, for both of us.
I stare up at the ring as the guy whips off the red satin robe with the word riptide on the back, and the spectators stand screaming and cheering as he slowly turns to acknowledge them all. His face is suddenly before me, illuminated by the lights, and I just stare like an idiot from my place. My god.
My.
God.
Dimples.
Dark scruffy jaw.
Boyish smile.

Man’s body.
Killer tan.
A shiver shoots down my spine as I helplessly drink in the entire package everyone else seems to be gaping at.
He has black hair, standing up sexily as if women have just had their fingers there. Cheekbones as strong as his jaw and forehead. Lips that are red-kissed and swollen, and, as a souvenir from his walk to the ring, there’s lipstick on his jaw. I look down his long, lean body and something hot and wild settles in my core.
He’s mesmerizingly perfect and incredibly hard. Everything, from his beautifully slim hips and narrow waist to his broad shoulders, is solid. And that six-pack. No. It’s an eight-pack. The sexy V of his obliques dips into his satin, navy blue shorts, which gently hug his powerful legs, thick with muscle. I can see his quads, traps, pecs, and biceps, all gloriously tight and cut. Celtic tattoos circle both of his arms, exactly where his bulging biceps and the rigid square deltoids of his shoulders meet.
“Remy! Remy!” Mel shouts hysterically at my side, hands cupped to her mouth. “You’re so fucking hot, Remy!”
His head angles to the sound, one dimple showing with a sexy smile as he faces us. A frisson of nervous energy passes through me, not because he’s extremely gorgeous from this perfect view—because he is, he definitely is, goodness, he really is—but mostly because he’s looking straight at me.
One eyebrow cocks, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his entrancing blue eyes. Also something . . . warm in his gaze. Like he thinks I’m the one who shouted. Oh, shit.
He winks at me, but then I’m stunned as his smile slowly fades, morphing into one that’s unbearably intimate.
My blood simmers.
My sex clenches tight, and I hate that he seems to know that.
I can see he thinks he’s the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his rib cage for him to enjoy. I’m both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.
Breaking our connection, he curls his lips and turns when his opponent is announced with the words “Kirk Dirkwood, ‘the Hammer,’ here for all of you tonight!”
“You little slut, Mel!” I cry when I recover, shoving her playfully. “Why did you have to scream like that? He thinks I’m the nutcase now.”
“Omigod! He did not just wink at you,” Melanie says, visibly stunned.
Oh my god, he had. Hadn’t he? He did.
I’m just as astounded as I relive the wink in my head, and I’m totally going to torture Melanie because she deserves it, the little tramp.
“He did,” I finally admit, scowling at her. “We telepathically communicated, and he says he wants to take me home to be the mother of his sexy babies.”
“Like you would have sex with someone like him. You and your OCD!” she says, laughing her head off as Remington’s opponent takes off his robe. The man is all beefy muscle, but not an ounce of him can visually compete with the pure male deliciousness of that “Riptide.”
Remington flexes his arms at his sides, stretches his fingers out and forms fists, then bounces on the balls of his feet, his calves flexing. He’s a large, muscular man but surprisingly light on his feet.
Hammer throws the first punch. Remington evades it with a smart duck, and he comes back up with a full swing that connects and knocks Hammer’s face to the side. I inwardly flinch at the power in his punch; my body clenches at the sight of his muscles contracting and tensing, working and releasing, with each blow he delivers.
The crowd watches, enraptured, as the fight continues, those awful cracking sounds filling me with goose bumps. But there’s something else bothering me. The fact that beads of perspiration pop on my brow, in my cleavage. As the fight progresses, my nipples strain, ever more puckered and tight, against my top, pushing anxiously against the silk of the fabric. Somehow watching Remington Tate pound a man they call “Hammer” makes me squirm in my clothes in a way I don’t like, much less ever expected.
The way he swings, moves, growls . . .

Suddenly, a chorus begins: “REMY . . . REMY . . . REMY.”
I turn and see Melanie jumping up and down and saying, “Omigod, hit him, Remy! Just knock him dead, you sexy beast!” She screams when his opponent falls to the ground with a loud thump.

My panties are soaked, and my pulse has gone haywire. I’ve never condoned violence. This isn’t me, and I blink in stupefaction at the sensations whipping through my system. Lust, pure, white-hot lust, flutters through my nerve endings.
The ringmaster lifts Remington’s arm in victory, and as soon as he straightens from the knockout blow he just delivered, his gaze swings in my direction and crashes into me. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, and something knots and pulls inside my tummy. His sweaty chest rises and falls in a deep pant, and a drop of blood rests at the corner of his lips. Through it all, his eyes are glued to me.
Heat spreads under my skin, and the flames lick me all over. I will never admit this to Melanie, not even to myself out loud, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a hot man in my life. The way he stares at me is hot. The way he stands there, with his hand held in the air, his muscles dripping sweat, with that air of authority Mel told me about in the cab—it’s just hot.
There’s no apology in his stare. In the way he ignores everyone who shouts his name and stares at me with a look that’s so sexual I almost feel taken right here. An awful awareness of the exact way I look to him sweeps over me.
My long, straight hair, the color of mahogany, falls to my shoulders. My button-up white shirt is sleeveless, but it goes up my throat in a lacy mock-neck, and the hem is tucked nicely into a pair of high-waisted, but perfectly presentable, black pants. A small set of gold hoop earrings nicely complement my honeyed whiskey eyes. Despite my conservative choice of clothes, I feel completely naked.
My legs wobble, and I’m left with the distinct impression this man wants to pound me next. With his cock.

Please, god, I did not just think that; Melanie would. Another tightening in my womb distresses me.
“REMY! REMY! REMY! REMY!” people chant, the sound growing in intensity.
“You want more Remy?” the man with the microphone asks the crowd, and the noise builds around us. “All right then, people! Let’s bring out a worthier opponent for Remington ‘Riptide’ Tate tonight!”
Another man steps into the ring, and I can’t bear it anymore. My system is on overload. This is probably why it’s not a good idea to forego sex for so many years. I’m so worked up that I can barely talk right or even make my legs move as I turn to tell Mel I’m going to the restroom.
A voice blares loudly through the speakers as I charge down the wide path between the stands. “And now, to challenge our reigning champion, ladies and gentlemen, is Parker ‘the Terror’ Drake!”
The crowd comes alive, and suddenly, I hear an unmistakably hard slam.
Resisting the urge to look back at what’s causing the commotion, I round the corner and head straight for the bathroom hall as the speakers flare up again. “Holy cow, that was fast! We have a KO! Yes, ladies and gentlemen! A KO! And in record time, our victor once again, I give you, Riptide! Riptide—who’s now jumping out of the ring and— Where the hell are you going?”
The crowd goes crazy, calling all the way to the lobby, “Riptide! Riptide!” and then they fall completely quiet, as though something unscripted has just happened.
I’m wondering about the eerie silence when pounding footsteps echo at my back. A warm hand engulfs mine, and the touch frissons through me as I’m spun around with surprising force.
“What the . . .” I gasp in confusion, and then stare into a sweaty male chest, and up into glowing blue eyes. My senses reel out of control. He’s so close the scent of him tears through me like a shot of adrenaline.
“Your name,” he growls, panting, his eyes wild on mine.
“Uh, Brooke.”
“Brooke what?” he snaps out, his nostrils flaring.
His animal magnetism is so powerful I think he just took my voice. He’s in my personal space, all over it, absorbing it, absorbing me, taking my oxygen, and I can’t understand the way my heart is beating, the way I stand here, shivering with heat, my entire body focused on the exact spot his hand is wrapped around me.
With trembling efforts, I pry my hand free and glance fearfully at Mel, who comes up behind him, wide-eyed. “It’s Brooke Dumas,” she says, and then she happily shoots out my cell phone number. To my chagrin.
His lips curl and he meets my gaze. “Brooke Dumas.”

And as I feel his tongue twist roughly around those two words, his voice sinfully dark, like things you crave to eat but really shouldn’t, desire swells between my legs. His eyes are hot and almost proprietary when he looks at me. I’ve never been stared at like this before.
He just fucked my name right in front of me. And right in front of Mel.
He steps forward, and his damp hand slides to the nape of my neck. My pulse skitters as he lowers his dark head to set a small, dry kiss on my lips. It feels like he’s marking me. Like he’s preparing me for something monumental that could both change and ruin my life.
“Brooke,” he growls softly, meaningfully, against my lips, as he draws back with a smile. “I’m Remington.”