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Love Hurts 
Publication Date: January 18, 2015 
Genres: Contemporary, Romance 

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Even when she won’t fight for us, I’ll go to war for her…

Inside the Octagon, I have no fear. I’m at home, in
my element, inflicting pain onto men trained to
hurt me just as badly. Making them submit,
knocking them out, maiming them, because it’s them or me. And I choose them.

Outside the Octagon, my only weakness is a five-foot-two, classy as fuck woman that I’ve loved for most of my life. She’s the one that brings me to my knees, fills my arms, my heart, and one day soon, my bed. She makes me reckless. Volatile. I drink too much and try too hard to fuck my way out of feeling—all because of her.

Frankie De Rosa is my girl, my best friend. I haven’t earned her yet, but I won’t stand by and let anyone take her from me. She will be the greatest fight of my life, but she’s worth the battle. Love hurts, but anything worth having does, right?

I’m Deacon “The Hitman” Love — Welcome to the Cage.

Frankie is just walking out of the bathroom when I grab her by the wrist and pull her into an alcove that has an ancient looking payphone and nothing else except really dim lighting.
“Deacon!” she yelps when I push her gently against the wall.
“Show me,” I whisper against her ear, pressing into her, molding her softness into the hard lines of my body. I don’t pull away; I just keep my lips to the shell of her ear, waiting for her response.
“Show you what?” she breathes against my neck.
“Don’t play with me, Princess, I’m all out of control for the night. I used every last bit of it when I watched Rico Suave put his hands on you. Show. Me,” I growl.
“Rico Suave?” she asks with an almost exasperated giggle. “Deac, there is no way in hell that I am showing you, especially in a bar, you ass!” Her voice says that she’s angry with me, but her hands at my back clutching my shirt, pressing me closer to her, say something different.
“Where is it? On that perfect ass of yours?” I ask as I bring my hand from the wall and slide it over her waist, over the swell of her hip, then behind her to cup one rounded cheek.
 She shakes her head that I’m wrong, eyes wide at the path my hand just took, no doubt.
“Tell me that you didn’t put it right above your pretty, little pussy, Frankie.” I nip her ear and groan into her hair when she gasps and presses tighter into my chest. The hand that isn’t on her ass cradles the back of her head, my fingers tangling into her hair, tilting her head a bit to give me better access to her neck and the pulse that I can see there. I lower my head and place a kiss on that rapidly beating spot and then swipe my tongue across it, eliciting yet another sound out of her that is part moan, part plea.
“Deacon, we cannot do this here. What the hell is with you and walls anyway?” she asks in a somewhat amused voice.
“I don’t know what it is. I just need to feel you—all of you—and this seems to be what happens when I reach a point where I can’t deny myself anymore. Stop making me deny myself, Frankie. I don’t like it.”
The last part leaves my mouth without me even realizing what I’m saying. Not that I don’t mean it, I’m just not sure that I want her to know how much power she actually has over me. I shake the thought off—I’ve had too much to drink to analyze those kinds of things right now. I go back to trailing kisses across her jaw, ending at her ear, where I again nip the lobe.
“Are you gonna show me, baby, or should I keep guessing?” I ask her softly.
 She manages to get her hands in between us and gives a little shove to my chest. “No, Deac, I am most definitely not going to show you,” Frankie tells me, her tone firm.
“Okay, you don't have to show me, but I'll tell you right now, I find out that you showed your ‘sensitive areas’ to Cristiano or anyone else, I'm gonna knock heads, Princess.”
She snorts at me, and it does nothing but make me harder.
“I'll show my sensitive areas to whomever I want, Deac. I don't belong to you!” she huffs out in that raspy voice of hers. I can hear the lie in her words though. I hope that she can too.
“That's where you're wrong, Frankie,” I tell her, and mean it.

About the Author

Mandi Beck

Mandi Beck has been an avid reader all of her life. A deep love for books always had her jotting down little stories on napkins, notebooks, and her hand. As an adult she was further submerged into the book world through book clubs and the epicness of social media. It was then that she graduated to writing her stories on her phone and then finally on a proper computer.

A nursing student, mother to two rambunctious and somewhat rotten boys, and stepmom to two great girls away at college, she shares her time with her husband in Chicago where she was born and raised. Mandi is a diehard hockey fan and blames the Blackhawks when her deadlines are not met. 

Love Hurts is her debut novel and she is currently working on the next in the series along with whatever other voices are clamoring for attention in her mind.

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