From New York Times bestselling author Laura Kaye, comes the second standalone title in her brand, new Warrior Fight Club series, FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS.
Preorder your copy of
FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS,
and join the Warrior Fight Club world today!
About FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS (Warrior Fight Club #2, 9/7/18):
This fight club has one rule: you must be a veteran…
Resisting her only makes him want her more...
Private investigator Billy Parrish is good at three things—fighting, investigating, and sex. MMA training with the other vets in the Warrior Fight Club keeps his war-borne demons at bay—mostly, and one night stands ensure no one gets too close. But then his best friend from the Army Rangers calls in a favor.
Shayna Curtis is new to town, fresh out of grad school, and full of hope for the future. With a new job starting in a month, she’s grateful when her brother arranges a place for her to stay while she apartment hunts. But she never expected her roommate to be so brooding. Or so sexy.
Billy can’t wait for Shay to leave—because the longer she’s there, the more he wants her in his bed. To stay. He can’t have her—that much he knows. But when fight club stops taking off the edge, Billy lets down his guard…and starts fighting for what’s his.
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A note
from Laura Kaye:
I’m so
excited to share Fighting for What’s His, because this story is such a sweet,
sexy, and funny roommates-to-lovers and brother’s best friend story! Need more
to pique your interest?
Enjoy this excerpt:
“I got
the bandages you asked for. I’ll grab them,” Shayna said.
Without
looking at her, Billy nodded once. She heard the frustrated breath he released
as she left the room. When she came back up, he was waiting at the top of the
steps. “I got it from here, thanks.”
“I can
help—”
“I’ve got it,” he said again, not quite
meeting her gaze.
“You
helped me, so why can’t I help—”
“Shayna.”
“Billy.” She understood how guys like
Billy and her brother thought. She’d been around enough Rangers to know they hated needing help. But that didn’t mean
they didn’t actually need it. “You won’t be able to reach the back of your
shoulder. Let me help.”
He let out
a harsh breath, then turned away. “Fine.” He disappeared into his bedroom at
the back of the hallway.
She
followed the rectangle of light spilling from the master bathroom and found him
gathering supplies from the medicine cabinet. For a moment, she just stood in
the doorway, because she could feel the anger rolling off of him. “I’m sorry if
carrying my stupid desk made your shoulder worse.”
He
slanted her a look, and it was clear that he was attempting to beat back his
frustration. “It didn’t, so don’t worry.”
“I’m
kinda predisposed to think things are my fault, so it can’t be helped.”
He
frowned, and this time all the frustration bled from his expression. “Why do
you say that?”
Because my idiocy and stubbornness killed my
brother. That was what she thought, but what she said
was, “I don’t know. Old habit.”
Billy
shook his head. “Well, this isn’t your fault, Shayna. And I’d be willing to bet
that whatever else you’re worrying about isn’t either.” He closed the toilet
lid and sat heavily, and Shayna was glad that he looked away, because his words
had unleashed a sting at the backs of her eyes. “I hate that I need help with
this. Not that you’re the one helping.”
There
went her belly again. “Just pretend I’m Ryan,” she said in a quiet voice.
He
smirked up at her. “Why would I do that?”
“Because
you probably wouldn’t care if a buddy was patching you up, right?”
He
shrugged with one big shoulder. “Anyone ever told you that you can be too damn
perceptive?”
“I am a
photographer, after all. It’s literally my job to notice things.”
“Mine,
too,” he said, tossing an appreciative glance over his shoulder. Their gazes
collided. Held.
Made
Shayna’s heart beat harder. “So, do I need to do anything special or just
clean, bandage, tape?” she asked as her gaze scanned over his burn scars.
“Put
antibiotic cream on before you bandage. Otherwise, that’s it. And be sure to
pat rather than wipe. Because of the movement of the joint, this spot is the
one area that has struggled to heal.”
She
washed her hands and ran warm water over a wash cloth, then did as he said.
“Let me know if I hurt you.”
“You
won’t,” he said. “I can’t feel much where its scarred. My nerves are mostly
shot back there.”
Shayna
debated whether humor would help or hurt the situation, then went for it.
“Well, in case you have one left, I don’t want to get on it.”
One beat
passed, then another. Billy chuckled, and the sound did funny things to her
chest. “Appreciate that, smart ass.”
She put
a playful sauciness in her voice as she said, “You noticing my ass, Billy
Parrish?”
He
didn’t answer, even though his mental debate as to how to respond seemed to ring loudly, making her laugh as she
tended to him.
“This is
pretty much the same thing I had to do when I got the tattoo on my shoulder,”
she said, smoothing antibiotic cream over the rent skin. She grimaced as she
did so, not because she found it unpleasant, but because she worried about
hurting him despite his reassurances.
“How
many tattoos do you have?” he asked in a low voice.
The
question reminded her that he’d seen one of them—her most intimate one, and
heat filtered into her cheeks as she positioned the bandage. “Four. The one on
my hip, and three on my back and shoulders. Once you have one, it’s kinda
addicting.”
“Is that
right?”
“Mmhmm,”
she murmured, concentrating on the tape. “I think the bottom piece of tape
might need to wrap under your arm a little to hold it in place. Is that okay?”
“Whatever
you say, Goldilocks.”
“That’ll
be Dr. Goldilocks to you, ya git.” She smoothed the tape down.
He
chuckled again. “What’s with the colorful cursing?”
She
grinned. “I grew up with brothers. Am I offending your sensitive ears, Ranger
Parrish?”
“Hell,
no,” he said. “I’m a fan.”
“There,”
she said, surveying her work. Satisfaction warmed her belly, because she’d gotten
to help him. And he’d called her pretty. And said he was a fan of the crazy
crap that came out of her mouth. “All done.”
He rose
and peered in the mirror. “Perfect, Shayna,” he said, their gazes meeting in
the mirror.
And she
could’ve sworn he said, “Perfect Shayna,” without
the pause between. Especially when he looked at her like he was doing right
now.
As if
she had on far too many clothes. And Jesus did she suddenly agree.
“Any
time you need patched up, consider me your girl,” she managed, still meeting
the heat in those brown eyes.
Brown
eyes whose reflection looked her up and down. “Don’t you mean woman? Consider you my woman?” he
teased, throwing her earlier words back at her. “You know, when I need patched
up.”
Shayna
released a shaky breath. “Yeah. Exactly.”
He gave
a slow nod, then turned to look at her directly, bringing them toe to toe.
“Then, consider me your man when you need muscle. Now, how about I go move your
car and help you build a desk?”
AND GRAB BOOK 1,
FIGHTING FOR EVERYTHING, right now!
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“The always amazing Kaye is kicking off a terrific new contemporary romance series that centers around a wounded warrior’s fight club. Kaye does a beautiful job exploring the fallout from war and PTSD as various characters struggle to cope in their own ways. The love story between Noah Cortez and his childhood friend Kristina Moore is both compelling and touching, for the obstacles in their way loom large. A truly memorable read!” ~ RT Book Reviews
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