Blog Tour: Fighting the Forbidden by Autumn Jones Lake

 

My best friend’s little sister is the ultimate forbidden fruit.

Fighting the Forbidden, an all-new age-gap, best friend’s little sister, contemporary romance from USA Today bestselling author Autumn Jones Lake is now available!

I’m the bad boy. She’s the good girl.

I’ve fought for survival all my life. My best friend and I have built an empire with our fists, sweat, and blood.

There's nothing I won't do to protect her, no matter the sacrifice – even my own heart.

I should know better than to want her. She’s got big dreams that don’t involve me.

I need to set her free so she can escape our small town. Not just for her sake–if her brother finds out about us, it’s more than my heart that could be broken.

But one kiss from her soft lips, I know I’ll never let her go.

USA Today bestselling author Autumn Jones Lake welcomes you to her captivating new series full of passion, longing, and the unbreakable bonds of chosen family.

Start reading today: https://books2read.com/fightingtheforbbiden

Add Fighting the Forbidden to Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/FTBGR  

Keep reading for a look inside Fighting the Forbidden!

I shoulder through the mass, bumping guys out of my way. There. No more than ten feet from me. She’s in a shadowy area, waiting patiently against the back wall. My lips curve up as I recognize the logo of my fight club stretched across the front of her purple T-shirt. Brass knuckles and roses. Kind of like Molly and me. 

Guys eye-fondle her as they walk by, but no one dares talk to her. They know better than to mess with Remy’s little sister. Because she’s my Molly—sweet, oblivious Molly—she doesn’t notice their attention. 

Her eyes are focused on me and nowhere else. 

Unfortunately, a lot of ring bunnies are also focused on me. One approaches with a sway to her hips and her full, red lips curled into an enticing smile. My gaze shoots to Molly in time to catch the turndown of her mouth and quick glance toward the exit. 

I need to reach her fast. 

“Congratulations, G,” Layla says. She waits for me to kiss her cheek. Give her some sign I want her to accompany me to the locker room or maybe my car so she can be my trophy for the night. Leaning in closer, she drops her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Were you messing with him when you took that kick?” 

I don’t bother bending down to hear her better or return her smile. “Nope.” My clipped answer’s meant to satisfy her questions—both spoken and unspoken. 

Layla knows a brush-off when it’s happening. She’s too proud to beg and too beautiful to bother trying to convince me. She lifts her chin and stalks away. On to the next fighter. 

My eyes lock on Molly again. She’s staring at the floor now, arms wrapped around her middle like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible. She lifts her head as I approach. A tentative smile flickers over her lips. 

“You didn’t have to hurry up for me,” she says, nodding in Layla’s direction. “I know you have fans to attend to.” 

The words come with an edge of hurt—pain I wish I could erase from Molly’s mind. 

“Does your brother know you’re here?” I ask, holding out my arms to her.

Instead of answering, she flings herself against me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I lift her up, hugging her tight, burying my nose in her cherry-vanilla-scented hair. 

“You scared me when he got that kick in,” she whispers against my shoulder. 

No way will I explain she’s the reason I took that blow. I’m too fucking happy to see her. And even though she shouldn’t be here, I’m thrilled she came to see me. 

Maybe too thrilled. 

I need to let her go. 

“I’m sweating all over you, girl.” I squeeze her tighter, negating my warning. She’s so soft and fits against me just right. 

“I don’t mind getting a little sweaty,” she murmurs. 

That takes my mind down a path it definitely should not travel. 

Setting her down before I’m ready, I keep my hands on her hips. It’s playing with fire. All the leftover adrenaline screaming through my system has me flirting with getting burned. Even though this isn’t a fight club I visit often, I recognize plenty of people. Any number of them would be more than willing to report back to her brother that I had my hands all over his little sister. Her brother—my best friend and partner in crime—wouldn’t hesitate to kick my ass. 

I settle for a kiss on her forehead before taking my hands off her. 

“You didn’t answer me. Does Remy know you’re here?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Why’d you come?” 

“Duh, to see you.” She pokes her finger into my side. “I heard you were up against someone new. Sorry I missed most of it.” 

“You saw the best part.” 

Laughter spills from her lips, chasing away the leftover violent energy burning through my body from the fight. I glance around the open space. Still way too many people here to leave her alone while I go shower and grab my stuff. 

“Follow me.” I hold out my hand and she takes it, weaving through the throng with me. The hallway to the private locker room is dark and deserted. Molly trots a little faster, catching up and wrapping her other hand around my arm. 

“You don’t have anything to be scared of,” I assure her. “You’re with me.” 

“I know.” Her lips quirk up. “You’d kill anyone who touched me.” 

I return the smile. “Kill is a little strong.” Break a few bones, maybe. 

She squeezes my arm tighter. 

It’s not fear that keeps her clinging to me. It’s trust. And that’s not something Molly gives freely. 

The locker room’s deserted. My opponent probably took off as soon as the match was finished. To the other side of the building, the local hospital, or home—I don’t know or care. No one else has a reason to be in here right now except me. 

“Stay here. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” 

She touches her fingers to my head. “You’re bleeding.” 

“Shit, really?” I glance at the mirror on the wall. She’s right. It’s a small cut, but a trickle of blood mingled with sweat slides down the side of my face. 

Her fingers lightly rake through my hair and my eyes close. The shivery sensation sends my blood pumping south. 

“Are there any Band-Aids around?” Her voice seems to come from far away and I sway on my feet. 

“Yeah.” I open my eyes and stare at the beat-up white metal cabinet next to the sink. “There should be something in there.” 

“Go shower.” She presses both of her palms against my chest and lightly pushes. “I’ll take care of the cut when you’re done.” 

She turns toward the cabinet. The metal door creaks as she pries it open. Standing on her tiptoes, she reaches for the top shelf. The movement lifts her shirt, baring the skin above the waistband of her jeans. 

I squeeze my eyes shut. 

“First-aid kit,” she announces. Something metallic clanks against the porcelain. 

“Can’t tell you if there’s anything in it.” I open my eyes. She’s at the sink, head bowed, fiddling with the rusty lock on the kit. Her long, shiny brown ponytail reaches the small of her back. The urge to wrap it around my fist seizes me. 

Don’t you fucking dare. 

“It’s stuck,” she mutters. I’d help her open it, but I need to put some distance between us for a few minutes. Get myself under control. 

“I trust you to figure it out.” Without taking my eyes off of her, I reach into my open locker and grab my towel. “I’ll be back.” 

“I’ll be waiting,” she answers. 

I’m more eager to get back to her than I have any right to be.

For more information about Autumn Jones Lake and her books, visit her website: 

https://autumnjoneslake.com