Top five things I learned about mixed martial arts while researching In Your Corner, my new sexy fighter romance…
1. Yes, professional and most amateur fighters really do look like “that” i.e. hot, toned and ripped.
The pressure to “make weight” i.e. make the cut off to fight in a lower weight class, means that they cannot afford any excess fat. A 195 lb fighter will dehydrate and starve himself before a weigh-in, often cutting up to 25lbs in a matter of days and then gaining it back before the fight. Hands up everyone who wants to lose 25lbs in two days. Me!
2. Fighters protect the family jewels with shorts that have a built-in carbon flex groin protector.
I was “treated” to a demonstration of the effectiveness of the “carbon flex groin protector” during one of my research trips. As you can imagine, it involved my host, thudding his knee between the legs of his “friend” and saying “see it doesn’t hurt” while his “friend” grimaced and tried not to cry.
More interesting than the groin smash demo, however, were the names given to said equipment. After all, a man can’t put his family jewels in a simple cup. Oh no. Something that precious must be protected with a “Bad Boy Thai Metal Groin Guard” or a HEXPAD Thudd Short with Extended Thigh”. Sounds kinky if you ask me. And I would know. I wrote a kinky book.
3. MMA is about fighting. Not BDSM.
MMA is a sport. It has nothing to do with sex. So put away your copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and don’t be fooled by commentators talking about fighters taking the “dominant” position or forcing opponents into “submission.” The “ground and pound” is a fight move, it’s not about rough sex. Think sports and you’ll appreciate the skill involved in a good ‘ol “Rear Naked Choke.” And don’t get me started on the “mount.” Just remember…you don’t want to be a bottom in the mount position because you will be in danger of being submitted. Oh Christian…
4. The Submission Master wants you.
Since we’re on the subject of submission, you may not know that fighters train with “dummies.” Often life-like (although sadly not anatomically correct) fight training dummies come in all manner of shapes and sizes, but my personal favorite is…THE SUBMISSION MASTER. Dark and mysterious, The Submission Master “holds its arms and legs up where they belong… not flat out on the floor.” If you prefer blonds, his bestie, Grapple Man, has a lifelike appearance and his skin has the feel and resiliency of human flesh. Or, if you’re feeling kinky, you can have them both.
5. What’s your ring name?
For obvious reasons (see paragraph about male ego above), fighters are not allowed to choose their own ring names. They must “earn” their name as selected by their peers. If you are a good fighter and a popular guy, you might luck out and be named Pulverizer, Axe Murderer, or Terminator. But if you piss off the coach, or you’re the kind of guy who is left standing at the side during the high school dance, you can expect a name like Babalu, Putz or Bambi.
What’s your ring name? Check it out on the Fighter Name Generator below. http://www.bleedingmedia.com/fighter_name_generator.php
Thanks to Delilah for hosting me today!
IN YOUR CORNER BY SARAH CASTILLE
A Publishers Weekly Best Summer Book 2014! “You have to go. I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve wanted you so bad for so long and after I’ve been in the cage…I can’t think straight.” He gives a guttural groan and his fist clenches on my hip.
Primitive. Primal. His need speaks to me. I tighten my grip on his neck and rock up to kiss him. He takes over. His kiss is hard and demanding.
“Mine.” His voice is raw, savage and for a moment I truly believe he may lose control.
He rules in the ring
Two years ago, Jake and Amanda were going hot and heavy. But when Jake wanted more, Amanda walked away. Jake immersed himself in mixed martial arts, living life on the edge. But that didn’t dull the pain of Amanda’s rejection-until a chance encounter throws them together.
A high-powered lawyer, Amanda was a no-strings-attached kind of girl. But two years after her breakup with Jake, she still hasn’t found anyone who gets her heart pumping the way he did. And then he shows up in her boardroom, hot as sin and needing help…
But can he rule her heart?
Jake is darker, sexier, and impossible to resist. As their chemistry builds, Amanda’s not sure if she can stay in control, or if she’s finally willing to let him claim her body and soul.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1mkcsql
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Against the Ropes (Redemption #1): A Publishers Weekly Top Ten Pick for Romance & Erotica and #1 Amazon Erotic Romance Bestseller: Amazon http://amzn.to/1o0sXYe
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, worked and travelled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes erotic contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them.
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Amazon Author: http://www.amazon.com/author/sarahcastille
EXCERPT FROM IN YOUR CORNER
Totally immersed in painting the cupboard, I freeze mid–paint stroke at the sound of Jake’s deep voice behind me.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
He closes the distance between us and runs his finger along the back waistband of my gym pants, sending delicious tingles up my spine. Then he slides his hands around my waist, bared by the rise of my T-shirt as I stretch to reach the top of the cupboard with my paintbrush.
“Yes. You look too damn sexy. Do you know what it does to a man when he catches a glimpse of something he isn’t meant to see?”
“I hope it makes him tell the woman she can call off the panic attack and drop her arm,” I mutter as I do just that. “I also hope it makes him decide his hands might be of better use somewhere other than around her waist.”
Jake slides his fingers around to my stomach, resting them just over my mound and his voice drops to a low growl. “I could make use of them here.”
“So says the man who turned down a good offer just the other night at Redemption.” I remove his hands and turn to face him, putting on a brave face while inside I seethe. Who does he think he is coming on to me after brushing me off?
“No games, Jake. You made your position clear. I got that. I’m not interested in being screwed around.”
He presses his hands against the cupboard on either side of my head, caging me with his body. “What are you interested in?”
“Moving on,” I say honestly.
His pulse throbs in his neck and his eyes harden. “With whom?”
“No one right now.”
He gives a satisfied grunt as if I had just cleared up a question in his mind. “Everyone is out back having a good time. You should be there too.”
“There’s a lot of work to do. I want to get it done. The faster I open shop, the faster I can start my lawsuit against Farnsworth.” I slip under his arm and edge along the counter.
“You’ve been working since six o’clock this morning.”
Grabbing a clean cloth from the counter, I make an effort to wipe the grease off my face. “I’m used to working twenty-hour days. I’m not afraid of hard work.” But I am afraid of mercurial fighters who run hot one minute and cold the next.
His face softens, and he takes the cloth from my hand and holds it under the tap. The pipes gurgle when he turns the rusty faucet and water gushes out, skimming over the cloth and trickling into the sink below. Without warning, he lifts me and settles me on the counter.
“You don’t have to work like that anymore.” His voice is calm, soothing. I am momentarily lulled out of work mode and into heat mode as he eases his hips between my legs and reaches to turn off the faucet. “It’s Saturday night. Time to relax and have fun.” With a firm hand, he cups my jaw and then wipes the cloth gently over my nose, forehead, and cheeks.
His gentle touch, the warmth of his hand, his breath, minty and sweet, and his hard body nestled between my thighs all converge in an unbearable rush of sensation. I grab his wrist, forcing his hand away.
“Jake…I’m good. Really. There’s so much to do. I’ll come out when I’m done and I’ve cleaned myself up.”
“I like you this way,” he murmurs. “You look…cute. Real.”
He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Amanda without the armor. Your clothes, hair, makeup…nothing is perfect. It’s just the real you. I never got to see the real you before.”
Torn between being mortified and pleased, I reach for another cloth. “Real Amanda is covered in dirt and has holes in her sweats.”
He traces a finger down my throat to rest in the hollow at the base of my neck. The room heats to one hundred degrees, and if I’m not mistaken, I hear the sound of my blood boiling.
“I like holes in sweats.” His voice drops, husky and low, and his finger continues its downward journey into the vee of my shirt.
He traces lightly over the crescent of my breast. “I like dirty girls,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t stay away.”
Oh God. Every bit of warmth rushes to my center as his deep, sensual voice ignites one of my dark fantasies. Jake, straddling my bound body, growling commands, telling me what he’s going to do to me in the filthiest language I know. A soft moan escapes my lips and we’re back on the roller coaster again.
“This game you’re playing confuses me.” His heart beats strong against my palm when I lay my hand over his chest.
“Then what are you doing?”
His eyes take on a feral gleam and my breasts tingle.
“Playing dirty,” he growls. Tangling his hand in my hair, he tugs my head back, exposing my throat to the heated slide of his lips. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking too much and just go with it.”
My breath comes in short pants as he sucks gently on the pulse at the base of my throat. Barely able to form a coherent thought for the pounding of blood in my temples, I scramble for sanity. “There’s too much between us to just go with it. We need to talk…”
His hand closes in my hair, twisting roughly. “Lawyers talk. You don’t look like a lawyer now. You look fucking sexy, and your mouth is all lush and pink and needing to be kissed. You want to talk, Amanda, or you want that kiss?” He nips the hollow at the base of my neck.
Pleasure and pain meld together and I whimper as a heated rush of sensation floods my veins. “Kiss.”
Jake smiles. “My dirty girl wants a dirty kiss.” Holding my face, he slants his mouth over mine and kisses me.
Soft kiss. Sweet kiss. Warm, firm lips tasting faintly of coffee. His five o’clock shadow brushes my chin as his tongue eases my lips open to stroke against mine. My body melts against him as he explores my mouth, leaving nothing untouched. Tongues wind and tangle. Two years of fantasies coalesce in a single rasping breath.
“’S not so dirty,” I mumble against his lips.
“Oh, you don’t know how dirty I can be.” Jake grips my hair and tugs my head back with a firm, hard yank, sending little bolts of lightning straight to my core. Then he kisses me hard and fast. Rough. His teeth scrape my bottom lip as his tongue dives deep, filling me, taking what I have to give and demanding more. The pounding of my heart shifts from lust to fear as he consumes me, and for a moment I worry he has forgotten I need to breathe.
When he breaks the kiss, I draw in a long, ragged breath. “You never kissed me like that before.”
“You were never like this before,” he murmurs, his fingers easing up my shirt, his thumb tracing over the crescent of my breasts. “Raw and open, vulnerable, needing my help. So fucking real.”
My breath catches in my throat as he explores, cupping and squeezing my breasts and then teasing my nipples through my lace bra until they are tight, aching peaks.
“My clothes. Take them off.”