Who Is The Author Of The Punch?

I shoot to my feet and practically scream, “She?!? They’re sending a woman?” I suddenly hear the sound of heels clicking on the floor, and turn to see a pair of eyes I never thought I’d be seeing again. “Yes, Tate, they sent a woman. I’ve been hired to save your sorry ass,” she calmly states with a look of disgust in her ocean blue eyes. **** What will happen when Ashton Tate, the scandal-ridden MVP second baseman, comes face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend, Elizabeth Mason, whom the team has hired to salvage his reputation and career? Sparks are sure to fly when the two of them are forced to spend every waking moment together, in an effort to revamp his bad-boy image. Unresolved grudges, past heartache, and malicious former flames and rivals block the path to redemption at every turn. Can Elizabeth help Ashton find his way back to the man he once was, or is this his last strikeout?

During an argument with my fiancé, he lost his temper and slapped me across the face in front of the entire family and guests. That same day, I called off the engagement and blocked him on every last platform so that he could not reach me. No one could believe it. After all, we grew up together. Everyone knew I had been in love with him since we were kids, and we were supposed to get married right after college. He just stood there, looking lost. "Why, Gia? Over a slap?" I held his gaze. "Sì. Over a slap."

I was born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain. Since I was a child, I had been the human punching bag who took beatings meant for my younger sister. Whenever my sister was caught sneaking snacks, Mom would grab me by the hair and slam my head against the wall. Blood would run down my face from my head, yet I never made a sound. When my sister was caught cheating in an exam, Mom whipped me with a belt the entire afternoon. My skin split and my flesh torn, yet I could still manage a smile. Every time she saw me covered in injuries, my sister would throw her arms around me tightly and cry her eyes out. She would say she was wrong and promise never to misbehave again. Mom would be pleased at that, convinced she had disciplined us well. And so, for sixteen years, I had endured every punishment meant for my sister. Until the latest monthly exam, when my sister dropped a place in the rankings. Mom called her over as usual and, out of habit, she raised her hand toward me. The slap sent the back of my head crashing into the corner of a cabinet, and blood spilled across the floor. Through my fading consciousness, I saw Mom nodding in satisfaction and pulling my sister, who was wailing her heart out, to her feet. “There, there. Stop crying. You’ve had your punishment. Let’s go eat something nice and calm yourself.” Watching their retreating figures, my eyelids grew heavier by the second. It seemed to hurt a little this time. I’d better get well soon… After all, they’d need me again the next time my sister made another mistake.

My hand wraps around his wrist, and I try to break free of his hold. It’s no use, so I just dig my fingers into the tendons there and glare at him. “What the hell’s your problem?” His forearm presses against my sternum as he crowds me more, ice-blue mismatched eyes full of unchecked rage. “You’re my fucking problem. Hockey’s little golden boy, coming out here with your good game tonight, acting like you own the sport.” He’s trying to get under my skin, but it won’t work. Unlike him, I don’t let my temper control me, and I definitely don’t toss hands at the drop of a hat whenever I can’t rein in my feelings. Which is why he doesn’t get the reaction he was hoping for, and I snort out a laugh. “Seriously? It was a compliment. One I meant, so just take it and move the fuck on.” “Move the fuck on?”

This novel contains explicit sexual content and depictions of violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised. **************** College rugby star Andre Williams only has one rule: win at any cost. It is how he stays the golden boy, how he keeps the Bay Tigers on top, and how he keeps his life clean enough to survive the season. Then Richard O’Reilly arrives. No one seems to know where he has come from, only that he is too good, too calm, and too threatening to Andre, who until now has always been the one on top. Richard is not just talented at rugby, he is mysterious and hard to read. He keeps his past sealed up tight because he is hiding something that could blow his life apart. Andre has built his whole life on control. The first time Richard appears, Andre realizes control is not as solid as he thought, and it could slip. It starts as a cutthroat rivalry. Then it turns into obsession. And the obsession grows into a hunger neither of them can explain or control. Rough Play is a slow-burn sports romance about two enemies, one brutal rivalry, and the kind of tension that does not stay on the field.

Back when I was young and dumb, I slapped some college guy working a side gig at a nightclub. My boyfriend had just ditched me for my best friend, Vanessa Shannon. Then, not even five minutes later, I caught her in the corner, sliding her hand under another guy's shirt. He bit his lip and just took it. Something in my brain short-circuited. I stood up and walked over. If Vanessa wanted him, why couldn't I? But the second I reached for him, he smacked my hand away. Vanessa cracked up. The whole private room turned to watch. Mortified, I slapped him. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." Later, my family went broke, and I ended up working at a nightclub just to get by. The private room was loud as hell. I lost a game, and everyone at the table started chanting for me to take my bra off. My face went hot. I stood there, completely frozen. Then a low voice cut through the noise with a cold laugh. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." I looked up. Our eyes locked. His stare was icy, full of pure mockery. It was the college guy I'd slapped years ago.