by Lane Hart
MMA Middleweight World Champion, Jackson "Jax" Malone has just entered the fight of his life. Known for his viciousness in the cage, and his playboy ways out of it, Jax is arrested and charged with a brutal rape. The thought of spending decades in prison is one of the few things that actually scares the shit out of this cocky fighter.
Newly admitted attorney Page Davenport is willing to do anything it takes to get out from under her father's thumb and finally prove herself in his law firm. Anything except represent the infamous miscreant, Jackson "The Mauler" Malone. Despite her protests, Page is powerless to avoid becoming the sacrificial lamb, the token female, who will be the face of the violent, angry Neanderthal's defense team.
Jax is a bad boy with a temper, doing whatever the hell he wants in life while flipping the bird at all his haters. Page is the prim and proper rich debutante her parents want her to be. They've been pulling her strings, telling her what to do, where to go to school, what to wear, and even who she should marry.
Page and Jax struggle to work together, engaging in a knockdown drag-out fight for dominance. When they finally stop taking swings at each other, they're both surprised to realize that sometimes first impressions are completely wrong. In fact, opposites really do seem to attract. However, there are lines that attorneys and their clients can never cross, if Page wants to keep her license to practice law.
Will Page risk it all and submit to the cocky fighter? Or will Jax's temper and jealousy prove too much for her to take on outside of the courtroom?
Either way, one thing is for sure - neither Page nor Jax are going down without a fight. In the end, the secret for them to find heaven may be to battle their way through hell first.
"Mr. Malone, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Page Davenport. Page, this is Martin Malone and his son. I'm sure you'll recognize Jackson Malone from his outstanding MMA career," my dad says when he makes the introductions.
"Nice to meet you," I lie as I hold out my hand to the older man. Shaking it he gives me a polite nod of his head while assessing me. He's not looking at me in a creepy, sexual way, but it's more of a look that says, Is she really old enough and experienced enough to represent my son? Of course not, and everyone in the building knows that.
My curious eyes finally dance around the older man to the one standing behind him. The spacious conference room that can easily accommodate ten ego-inflated attorneys suddenly feels too small. Intimidating doesn't even begin to describe the vibe this man is putting off. He practically comes with his own flashing neon sign over his coal colored pompadour cut, shaved close on the sides, that says in big, bright letters, "Danger! Stay back at least 100 feet!"
It isn't necessarily the guy's size that makes him scary, even though he’s built like a tank at more than six feet tall with a wide, muscular build. But when you add in his black bottomless-pit eyes and tight unshaven jaw...he looked like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt. Violence and tension radiate off of him in waves that are almost visible. In nothing special faded jeans and a plain white tee contrasting with his tan golden skin, he's absolutely, without a doubt, the most…scrumptious looking man I've ever laid eyes on. His mug shot plastered all over the television and internet don’t do him justice.
How the heck is it physically possible for someone who lets other people punch him in the face for a living still look like...like...a gorgeous Abercrombie & Fitch model?
And how can someone so bad ass and angry still come across as...well, I'd never actually say this to his face, but pretty?
The man is nothing like the type of guy I'm usually attracted to. He's missing the requisite white collar and tie. I have a feeling that the brute before me never wears either. Instead of clean cut, he's ruggedly and dangerously handsome, singularly able to make women stop, drop their panties, and roll over...and cause men to run away like cowards with their penises tucked between their legs. Speaking of penises...
"Page?" my father's commanding voice interrupts my perusal, that has gone on far too long and much further south than is professional.
He is a monster, not a sexy man you should be wanting a life size poster of for your bedroom! My inner sanity finally surfaces and reminds me of the rape and strangling he's charged with. Yes, that's exactly what I need! A reminder of why he's here and the horrible thing he did.
"Nice to meet you," I lie again, intentionally not offering him my hand to shake. It would've been a serious stretch to reach him across the table anyways, I tell myself.
The dangerous man's dark, seemingly soulless eyes assess every single inch of my body. And, unlike his father, his gaze is definitely sensual. He's looking at me like I'm a brand new flavor of Ben & Jerry's. One that he can't wait to dip his…spoon into, gorge himself on until he scrapes the very bottom of the carton, and then lick the container completely clean with his tongue.
Even if I had looked at him the same way, his perverted stare helps cool my overheating hormones, seeing him for the pig that he is.
JAX is now available for pre-order at Amazon:
Lane Hart lives in the south with her husband, children and pets named after Star Wars characters. After thirty years she's finally figured out what she wants to be when she grows up. When Lane's not writing she spends her free time reading everything she can get her hands on, watching football, and conducting research for scenes in her next steamy book.
Lane would love to hear from you on Facebook, Twitter, on her website, or by email!
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