Barnes & Noble
3.5 out of 5
I LOVE this series and Remy is just as hot here as he is in the first two and I’m totally going to fangirl all over Katy Evans if I ever meet her in person. I was counting down the days until this released, dying to read their story from Remy’s POV. I could sit here and go back over the million and one reasons why I love Remy and Brooke, but I won’t because I did that in my review of Mine, check it out here. If you are reading this review, then you’ve probably already read Real and Mine, love them as much as I do, and just want to know if this is as good as you hope. If you haven’t read them, what the hell is wrong with you? Go! Go! Go! Right now! Read them!
On a whole, I did enjoy this and loved reading Remy’s obsession for Brooke, and his whole alpha man “MINE” attitude, but I did have some disappointments. I really admire Katy Evans for tackling bipolar disorder throughout this series, and I was really looking forward to that aspect from Remy’s POV and I feel those scenes were mostly brushed over. I do understand why it was written this way, as there is the aspect that Remy doesn’t remember much when he goes black, I just feel that Katy Evans is an amazing enough writer to have delved into that a little deeper.
I was also hoping for more background details on what happened to Remy with his folks, how being in a mental institution shaped him, and what led him to the fighter he became. I felt like the majority of his side focused on sex with Brooke and fighting scenes that went over my head a little because I don’t follow that sport. Despite all of that, this entire series is on my favorites list and I will be reading again when I need to satisfy my need for a sizzling hot love story and I will most definitely be reading the next two in this series, Pandora and then Melanie’s stories.
3.5 out of 5
Real and Mine are happy place books for me. They were great reads! You can read my thoughts, here and here. And you can rake me over the coals for saying this, but REMY should have been a long bonus scene covering from just before the wedding to the scene that we are left with at the end of Remy. The rehashing of the scenes from the first two books from Remy’s point of view weren’t necessary for me. Remy is a man of few words. His point of view can really be summarized into: Remy eats and fights. Remy trains. Remy smells Brooke. Remy fucks Brooke. Mine. Mine. Mine. Remy loves Brooke.
Katy Evans, of course, tells it much better and with more eloquence, but ultimately I must be raw and rate Remy with a 3.5. I had hopes that Katy would touch more on Remy’s family history and more on his struggles with being Bipolar. I had hoped to see how Remy going black and the need to care for a child would rank with Brooke and how they would handle it. But as with all things in life, you don’t always get what you want. Unless you’re Remy, then you get Brooke. And for Remy, that’s everything.
Underground fighter Remington Tate is a mystery, even to himself. His mind is dark and light, complex and enlightening. At times his actions and moods are carefully measured, and at others, they spin out of control.
Through it all, there’s been one constant: wanting, needing, loving, and protecting Brooke Dumas. This is his story; from the first moment he laid eyes on her and knew, without a doubt, she would be the realest thing he’s ever had to fight for.
“Pete, you think I need a sports rehab specialist?” I ask.
“You’re an asshole, dude. You hardly let the masseuses massage you for more than twenty minutes.”
“I need one now.” Pushing my iPad over to him, I tap the screen and signal to the name below her image. “I need that one.”
Pete lifts an interested eyebrow. “You do. Do you?”
“I need a sports rehab specialist on my payroll. I want her to tend to me every day. In whatever ways they do.”
He smirks. “They don’t do blow jobs, I’ll tell you that.”
“If I wanted a blow job, I could have had three just now. What I want . . .” Once again, my finger taps over her name. “Is this sports rehab specialist.”
Pete’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline, and he leans back and crosses his arms. “What exactly do you want her for?”
I chomp down the rest of my food, then take a long gulp of water so I can speak. “I want her for me.”
“Rem . . .” he says in warning.
“Offer her a salary she can’t decline.”
Pete answers me with a puzzled silence. He seems taken aback and is trying to make sense of me. He’s looking into my eyes, and I can tell he’s observing whether they are black or blue.
I’m not black. So I wait quietly. He sighs, slowly jots down her name, and speaks cautiously. “All right, Remington, but let me say, this has Bad Idea written all over it.”
Shoving my plate aside, I lean back and cross my arms.
My head betrays me half the time. One day, it tells me I am god. The other, it tells me that I not only rule hell, but I invented it. Does Pete think I give one fuck about what his own head thinks about my idea? I don’t listen to my head anymore. I listen only to my gut.
“I want her watching me fight Saturday,” I remind him as I get up and shove my chair back under the table. And I want her watching from the bet seats in the house.”
“Remington . . .”
“Just do it, Pete,” I say as I cross the living room back to the master.
“I already have the tickets ready to go, dude, but it’s hard enough keeping Diane from knowing of your . . . er, issues . . . It’s going to be even harder to keep it from someone like this sports rehab specialist.”
I prop my shoulder at the threshold of my bedroom and think about that. I lower my voice. “Make her sign a contract, so I have guaranteed time with her. And stabilize me the instant I start losing my shit.”
“Remington, just let me get some other girls—”
“No, Pete. No other girls.”
I shut myself in my room and grab my headphones, then just lie there with my iPod in my hand, staring at it.
What will it be like if I make her mine?
I don’t delude myself into thinking that she will accept me, but what if she does? What if she can understand me? The way I am? The two parts of me? No. Not two parts. Every. Single. Fucking. Part. Of me.
My gut tightens as I remember the way her eyes shone when she looked at me. The way they softened after I kissed her and she looked into my eyes, wanting more of me.
I have never seen a look quite like that before. I have been wanted by thousands of women. Nobody has ever looked at me with such open, frightened longing as her.
She was not frightened of me. She was frightened of “it.” This same thing clenching my gut that has me all tangled up. Every cell in my body is buzzing with awareness. Every inch of my skin is awake. My muscles feel primed like they do when I’m ready to fight. Except I’m not ready to fight now. I’m ready to go get my mate.
God help her.
Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!
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