We are so excited to bring you the Release Week Blitz for FIGHTING DIRTY by Lori Foster! FIGHTING DIRTY is a Contemporary Romance and is the final installment in Lori Foster’s Ultimate Series. Grab your copy of the conclusion to this sexy series today!
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He's
the hottest MMA fighter in the game, but one woman is ready to try out a
few steamy moves of her own in an unforgettable new novel from New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster
With
the life he's led and the muscles he's gained, Armie Jacobson isn't
afraid of anything. Except maybe Merissa Colter's effect on him. It's
not just that she's his best friend's little sister. Fact is, she
deserves better. Women pursue him for one night of pleasure, and that's
all he wants to offer. Until rescuing Merissa from a robbery leads to
the most erotic encounter of his life.
Good
girl meets bad boy. It's a story that rarely ends well. But Merissa is
taking matters into her own hands. No matter how he views himself, the
Armie she knows is brave, honorable and completely loyal. And as past
demons and present-day danger collide, they're both about to learn
what's truly worth fighting for…
Bestselling
author Lori Foster shares a fighting scene from the last book in her Ultimate
Series, Fighting Dirty
Fighting Dirty
by Lori Foster is the final book in her addicting and wicked hot MMA-themed
Ultimate Series. Check out the excerpt below to see just what we mean. Happy
reading!
***
“Jesus, Quick. You’re a freak of
nature. You know that, right?”
Armie Jacobson, known as Quick to
his fighter friends, ignored the complaint and threw a few more jabs, then a
solid body shot, making Justice, a six-foot-five heavyweight, double over.
Stepping back, Armie flexed his hands, bounced on the balls of his feet, and
waited.
Unfortunately, Justice only put his
hands on his knees and sucked air.
Frowning, Armie removed his
mouthpiece. “Seriously? Come on, dude. Let’s go.”
“Screw you.” Schlepping back to his
corner, Justice grabbed up a water bottle. He doused his head and chest, and
then started chugging.
Aware of others watching, Armie said
nothing. Everyone worked out, trained and sparred in the rec center, but
lately, whenever he did, a dozen or more people stopped to watch. He didn’t
mind an audience. Hell, he couldn’t be a competitor if he did. For the most
part he paid no attention. Once he got in the cage, he went into a zone and the
world receded.
But this insane ogling shit, like he
was a damned sideshow, bugged him big-time.
A trickle of sweat tracked down his
temple from his headgear, and he swiped a forearm over his face. His muscles
burned and more sweat soaked his chest, abs and rolled down his spine. He was
figuring out what to say to Justice to get him back in action when he picked up
her scent. The faint perfume cut through the rec center air, thick with
the smells of sweaty men working hard.
Trying to look casual, Armie stared
at Justice but in his peripheral vision he saw her striding across the room. No
mistaking that long-legged gait, or that longer dark hair. He swallowed,
frozen.
“What?” Justice asked, sounding both
suspicious and ridiculously alarmed with the way Armie had locked onto him.
Armie shook his head – and
thankfully Merissa disappeared into the hallway leading to the offices.
Releasing a breath, he looked toward
the clock and frowned. Yeah, they’d been at it for a while, maybe longer than
he’d intended. His cardio was better than most, definitely better than
Justice’s, the big lug.
Armie walked over to him. “You need
to get more gas in the tank.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
When Armie grinned, Justice eyed him
warily. “Stop it.”
That switched his grin to a frown.
“Bitchy much?”
Justice slouched against the wall
and glared back. “You shouldn’t be able to grin, you prick. You should be as
tired as me.”
A natural trainer, Armie took pity
on him. “You’re a lot bigger.” As a six-foot tall middleweight, Armie stood
five inches shorter and weighed a lot less than Justice.
“Lotta good it does me.”
Squatting down in front of him,
Armie said low, “People are watching, so stop whining.”
Justice’s gaze slipped past him and
he groaned.
“Yeah, the big dogs are here again.”
Damned nosy bastards. Ever since he’d signed with the SBC, the powers-that-be
had been scoping him out like their newest lab rat. “Stand up, go another two
minutes with me, then we’ll call it quits.”
Huffing out a breath, Justice
lumbered to his feet. “Freak of nature,” he muttered again, but he followed
Armie out to the center of the ring, and he did his best.
His best was nowhere near good
enough against Armie.
But then, they fought for very
different reasons.
Twenty minutes later, fresh from the
showers, Armie was ready to head out. The mid February weather left frost on
every surface, so he tugged on a stocking hat over his still wet hair and
pulled a thick hooded sweatshirt on over his clothes. Carrying his gym bag, he
entered the main area cautiously. This late in the day, the mats were now
cleared. Miles and Brand took their turn mopping with sanitizer. Many of the
lights were turned down and only the core group of friends remained, clustered
together in conversation.
The SBC heads were gone, and better
still, he didn’t see Merissa anywhere. She’d probably just been dropping off
paperwork for her brother, Cannon, who owned the rec center.
Relieved, Armie started for the
door. With any luck, he’d manage it before someone stopped him –
“Hey, Armie.”
Damn. After a slight hesitation, he
turned to where Denver, Stack and Cannon all stood together. “What’s this? The
three Married Musketeers?”
Stack, who’d only married a month
ago, reeked of satisfaction. “Aw, he’s jealous.”
Yup. But since he’d die before
admitting it, Armie said, “Nope.”
Denver, still a newlywed himself,
grinned. “Probably lonely too, poor guy.”
Very. Groupies, orgies, and random
one-night stands could only take a guy so far. He had a rep for sexual excess,
and that’s what the ladies wanted from him. That, and nothing more.
Checking the time, Armie said, “I
could be lonely with three very nice ladies if you yahoos would let me leave.”
Unlike the others, Cannon didn’t
laugh. “Seriously? Again?”
Why the hell did his best friend
have to sound so disapproving? And if he knew why Armie had made those plans,
he’d probably be pissed as well as disapproving, because it was thoughts of Cannon’s
little sis that he worked so hard to obliterate. Not that a foursome would
accomplish much beyond taking the edge off. His obsession with Merissa seemed
to amplify by the day.
Copping an attitude, Armie shrugged.
“Yeah, really. Unless you have something –” Or someone “- better for me
to do?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s why I
wanted to talk to you.”
Well hell. He hadn’t figured on
that. Armie ran a hand over his hair. “Then let’s hear it.”
“Yvette wanted everyone to come over
tonight to hang out and visit.”
Armie adored Yvette. She was perfect
for Cannon and a real sweetheart. But damn... “Who all will be there?”
With a very knowing smile, Cannon
said, “Everyone important to us. So don’t miss it.”
Double damn. Merissa definitely
counted as important.
Armie didn’t want to, but with all
the guys eyeballing him, how could he refuse? “What time?”
“Now.”
Armie scowled. “What do you mean,
now?”
“Now, as in you don’t have time to
do anything else, so forget it.”
Justice came dragging out, his
faux-hawk hair still wet, his goatee in need of a trim, and his cauliflower
ears worse than ever. He shoulder-bumped Armie as he passed. “If you hadn’t
been determined to cripple me, maybe you’d have had more time for playing.”
“Wuss,” Armie accused with a grin.
“He has a point,” Brand said as he
pushed a mop bucket toward them.
Miles, giving one last swipe of the
mat, followed him. “Keep pushing that hard and you’re liable to hurt something
before the competition.”
“I still have two months.” Two
months of freedom and he’d spend it however he wanted. Sure, Armie knew there
were established training methods, but they weren’t for him. Never had been,
never would be – no matter who he fought for.
“This isn’t local fighting anymore,”
Denver reminded him.
As if he’d forget.
“Carter Fletcher isn’t a slouch,”
Miles added. “You might not walk through him like you do the local guys.”
“They call him Chaos for a reason.”
Brand frowned. “I’ve seen him fight and he’s unpredictable.”
Yeah, so his first opponent was
supposed to be a stud. Big deal. Armie shrugged to show he didn’t really care.
Not that long ago the SBC, the most widely known MMA organization, had run him
to ground and all but coerced him into signing on with them. Cannon had helped
with that, pushing him to take the next step since he’d already demolished all
the records in local venues.
It was a big step, too, something
all the other guys had worked for. The SBC paid a lot more and offered
incredible name recognition. Their fighters traveled the world to compete.
But Armie liked being low key; it
was a hell of a lot safer for multiple reasons. If it wasn’t for Cannon –
“He’ll do fine against Carter,”
Cannon said. “And don’t worry about his training. Armie motivates differently,
that’s all.”
Always, no matter what, Cannon had
his back. As the only other person to know why he’d avoided fame and fortune,
Cannon understood. They weren’t related, but they were brothers all the same.
Which was the second biggest reason
he couldn’t, shouldn’t, crave Merissa the way he did. Cannon protected those he
loved.
And he loved his sister a lot.
“It’s getting late,” Cannon added.
“Don’t want to keep Yvette waiting.”
Glad for the switch in topic, Armie
pulled out his phone. “Guess I better make some calls and let the ladies know I
won’t make it after all.”
Stack looked at Denver. “If it was
anyone but Armie, I’d think he was making it up.”
“Lonely,” Denver confirmed.
Armie walked away knowing they were
right.
And don’t miss the previous books in the Ultimate Series!
Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Foster has become a USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly and New York Times bestselling author. Lori has published through a variety of houses, including Kensington, St. Martin’s, Harlequin, Silhouette, Samhain, and Berkley/Jove. She is currently published with HQN. Visit her online at LoriFoster.com.
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