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Hooked
Nine years, and you’d think I’d be able to sit in front of him without feeling a damn thing, but it’s all there—the fear and pain, the shame and the lust. The lust is the worst of it because I don’t know anything about this man other than the fact he’s still fighting.
But hell, he’d always been fighting.
Fighting to make his own mark on the world, fighting for his parents’ approval of me, fighting just for the rush of proving himself. But for all I know, now that he’s famous maybe there are dollar signs behind each choke-hold. Behind each perfectly executed left hook.
Two things are for certain … after nine years, he’s back in Albuquerque. And stepping into Jace “The Hook” Hunter’s gym—hearing him call me “Rosalie” in that beautiful, rough voice—rips my soul out.
But I’m desperate.
Now it’s my turn to fight.
But hell, he’d always been fighting.
Fighting to make his own mark on the world, fighting for his parents’ approval of me, fighting just for the rush of proving himself. But for all I know, now that he’s famous maybe there are dollar signs behind each choke-hold. Behind each perfectly executed left hook.
Two things are for certain … after nine years, he’s back in Albuquerque. And stepping into Jace “The Hook” Hunter’s gym—hearing him call me “Rosalie” in that beautiful, rough voice—rips my soul out.
But I’m desperate.
Now it’s my turn to fight.
450 pages, Paperback
First published February 14, 2015
1 person is currently reading
849 people want to read
About the author
Ivy Clarke
3 books68 followersIvy Clarke is a 30-something mom and wife from New York whose obsession with MMA and reading helped inspire her debut novel, Hooked.
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September 8, 2014I hope everyone is having a fantastic weekend. I've been working on HOOKED, and I wanted to share the first two pages with everyone. Let me know what you think!
-Ivy
*Note: This scene contains a possible trigger.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
CHAPTER ONE
Glaring down at the orange slip of paper clutched between my fingers, a surge of nausea rolled through my chest, and every ounce of safeness I’d allowed myself to feel during the last eleven months floated away in a matter of seconds.
A self-defense class.
I’d just been given a gift certificate for three months of self-defense lessons as a twenty-sixth birthday present. Not that I wasn’t grateful—I was—but damn if that wasn’t a sharp reminder of just how unsafe I was.
Scooting my chair closer to my desk, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I simply lifted my eyes to Maya, my dark eyebrows tugging together.
“Self-Defense 101 with Robbie Yancey?” My voice was a bleak monotone. Setting the gift next to a stack of ungraded essays, I rolled my tongue over my teeth. “I’ve never heard of him or Left Hook MMA.” And after living in Albuquerque my entire life with three brothers, I’d heard of every thing MMA.
“They’re new, but everywhere I turn, I hear good things about them. Some big shot started the place,” Maya explained, studying my guarded expression. “God, Rosalie, don’t you listen to the radio?” When I slowly shook my head, she sighed dramatically, slunk down in a tiny blue chair meant for a fourth grader, and crossed her slim marathon-runner’s legs. “I know with summer break just around the corner, you don’t want to hear it, but—”
“I know when Adam gets out of jail,” I interrupted in spite of the thickness forming in my throat. It was the same throat that, not even a full year ago, my ex had wrapped his fingers around, squeezing his hatred into my skin. It took all my strength not to gasp for air because, even safe within the confines of my small classroom, I felt like the breath was being pushed from my body. Like my life was once again spinning rapidly out of control.
Like my life could be over in a matter of seconds if someone else’s hands willed it.
“Say something,” my close friend and co-worker implored, fretfully smoothing auburn curls that had started to frizz.
I tapped my fingers on the gift she’d presented me with. “Something,” I teased huskily. I forced myself not to think of Adam, not to allow the painful memory of his touch crawl over my skin. Not to let myself give him more of my time.
I’d given that man plenty.
And as much as I hated admitting it, the gift Maya had just given me would give me plenty.
Maybe I’d be able to keep sleeping after Adam’s release. Maybe.
“Thank you for the gift.” I smiled, an expression that seemed to shatter my face. “I promise I mean that.” Lifting the certificate, I examined it once more before nodding gratefully. “And I promise to actually use this.”
-Ivy
*Note: This scene contains a possible trigger.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
CHAPTER ONE
Glaring down at the orange slip of paper clutched between my fingers, a surge of nausea rolled through my chest, and every ounce of safeness I’d allowed myself to feel during the last eleven months floated away in a matter of seconds.
A self-defense class.
I’d just been given a gift certificate for three months of self-defense lessons as a twenty-sixth birthday present. Not that I wasn’t grateful—I was—but damn if that wasn’t a sharp reminder of just how unsafe I was.
Scooting my chair closer to my desk, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I simply lifted my eyes to Maya, my dark eyebrows tugging together.
“Self-Defense 101 with Robbie Yancey?” My voice was a bleak monotone. Setting the gift next to a stack of ungraded essays, I rolled my tongue over my teeth. “I’ve never heard of him or Left Hook MMA.” And after living in Albuquerque my entire life with three brothers, I’d heard of every thing MMA.
“They’re new, but everywhere I turn, I hear good things about them. Some big shot started the place,” Maya explained, studying my guarded expression. “God, Rosalie, don’t you listen to the radio?” When I slowly shook my head, she sighed dramatically, slunk down in a tiny blue chair meant for a fourth grader, and crossed her slim marathon-runner’s legs. “I know with summer break just around the corner, you don’t want to hear it, but—”
“I know when Adam gets out of jail,” I interrupted in spite of the thickness forming in my throat. It was the same throat that, not even a full year ago, my ex had wrapped his fingers around, squeezing his hatred into my skin. It took all my strength not to gasp for air because, even safe within the confines of my small classroom, I felt like the breath was being pushed from my body. Like my life was once again spinning rapidly out of control.
Like my life could be over in a matter of seconds if someone else’s hands willed it.
“Say something,” my close friend and co-worker implored, fretfully smoothing auburn curls that had started to frizz.
I tapped my fingers on the gift she’d presented me with. “Something,” I teased huskily. I forced myself not to think of Adam, not to allow the painful memory of his touch crawl over my skin. Not to let myself give him more of my time.
I’d given that man plenty.
And as much as I hated admitting it, the gift Maya had just given me would give me plenty.
Maybe I’d be able to keep sleeping after Adam’s release. Maybe.
“Thank you for the gift.” I smiled, an expression that seemed to shatter my face. “I promise I mean that.” Lifting the certificate, I examined it once more before nodding gratefully. “And I promise to actually use this.”
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September 10, 2014Waiting on Wednesday and ARC #Giveaway for Hooked by Ivy Clarke http://wp.me/p2Y3qf-41b
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February 10, 2015hooked
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