Fighting For The Forbidden (Worth The Fight Book 2)

By Frankie Love

Her name's Tink.
She's a tiny little thing in a sparkling green dress. She has blonde hair swept up in a bun and brilliant blue eyes.
She's goddamn gorgeous.
But it's her voice that has me stopping in my tracks.
Someone's getting rough with her and even though there will be hell to pay, I raise my fists.
No one's going to hurt Tink.
She's mine now.
Just don't tell her grandpa.
Because he invented the word overprotective.
And a mountain man like me, with a past in the ring, isn't exactly the sort of guy he wants her to end up with.
But this is one fight I won't lose.

Dear Reader,
Titus is an alpha fighter who's ready to claim his hot-tempered, sassy-ass love.
He's a brawny beast and she's a petite virgin whose bark is bigger than her bite.
Good thing Titus knows how to tame her… for his big bone, she'll get on her hands and knees and beg.
It's a dirty one, darling!
xo, frankie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Love
• Release date: Oct 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201571825

Frankie Love

Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie. Get ready to fall in love … you deserve it! **Frankie also writes under the name Charlie Hart!

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Fighting For The Forbidden

Fighting For The Forbidden

Worth The Fight Series

Frankie Love

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Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

About

1. Titus

2. Tink

3. Titus

4. Tink

5. Titus

6. Tink

7. Titus

8. Tink

9. Titus

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

More in the WORTH THE FIGHT SERIES!

My Other Alpha Athlete Romances

PREVIEW

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About the Author

About

Fighting For The Forbidden

---

Her name’s Tink.

She’s a tiny little thing in a sparkling green dress. She has blonde hair swept up in a bun and brilliant blue eyes.

She’s goddamn gorgeous.

But it’s her voice that has me stopping in my tracks.

Someone’s getting rough with her and even though there will be hell to pay, I raise my fists.

No one’s going to hurt Tink.

She’s mine now.

Just don’t tell her grandpa.

Because he invented the word overprotective.

And a mountain man like me, with a past in the ring, isn’t exactly the sort of guy he wants her to end up with.

But this is one fight I won’t lose.

---

Dear Reader,

Titus is an alpha fighter who’s ready to claim his hot-tempered, sassy-ass girl.

He’s a brawny beast and she’s a petite virgin whose bark is bigger than her bite.

Good thing Titus knows how to tame her… for his big bone, she’ll get on her hands and knees and beg.

It’s a dirty one, darling!

xo, frankie

Chapter One

Titus

It's a rowdy bar full of locals with thick Boston accents and men with plenty of tattoos playing pool, letting off steam. Everyone's drinking dark beer and eating fish and chips and it's not the kind of place I usually frequent. Hell, in the last six months, there's not any place I frequent.

I've been sticking to the family cabin up in the Fells Mountain about twenty minutes outside of Boston. I don't have much reason to come into town, but I had to meet with my lawyer today to get some shit squared away, so now here I am looking for a cold beer before I head back to my place in the woods.

There's a reason I'm up there in the mountains, growing out my beard and shying away from the general population. It turns out the world's a fucked-up place and I don't have much reason to give it my attention. My new plan is to keep my head down and my fists lowered. I spent enough time in the ring to know fighting isn't going to get me anywhere except six feet under the ground.

Damn, it's been six months since Jordan died. My best friend, my brother for all intents and purposes, but he's gone now. And I’m still here, guilty as fuck because it should have me that died.

Instead, here I am, breathing, ordering a beer and a basket of fries. The bar is packed, and I realize it's a Friday night, and also the last day of the month, which means it's payday. And I can tell the locals who are here are enjoying it. The bartender named Eddie asks if I'd like another round.

I’ll take a whiskey. Neat, I say. Make it a double.

He nods, pouring me some Maker's Mark. I drink it while looking around the room. Places like this used to be my old stomping grounds, even though I'm not a Boston boy. I'm from middle America, cornfields and shit. Raised to be a farmer, I suppose. But I left that life behind when I made it in the ring, a Pound and Ground champion four times running.

My agent said I was a fool to walk away. But leaving was the only way I knew how to deal with Jordan's death. Now though, six months in, being in the woods all by my lonesome, I wonder what else I'm gonna do with my life. I thought maybe I'd write a book, tell my damn story, but I realized pretty quickly I was never one to wax poetic, never one to put words on a page.

The only way I know how to express myself is with my body. Now I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Sure, I’d love someone warm beside me at night, but I’m picky as fuck. And I’m holding out for a girl who really gets me going. I realize as I look around this crowded bar, where people are laughing, dancing, and clapping each other on the back, that what I miss is company. Someone to talk to, someone to shoot the shit with, someone to remind me of why we’re living at all.

Fuck, I'm getting emotional as shit while I sit here finishing my whiskey. I suppose I'd be lying if I said I wasn't lonely. I am and being here in this bar has reminded me of that sad fact.

I order another whiskey, well aware that it's going to be my last. I gotta sober up enough to drive home tonight. My cabin, the one my distant uncle built, is small but sturdy and provides me with what I need. I can go hiking every day and so that's what I'm doing. Trying to find solace with my feet. Moving my body is the only way I know how to get through this world. One foot in front of the other, but damn, each step I take reminds me of how badly I miss the ring, how badly I miss the fight.

A woman walks into the bar, laughing and joking around with a pack of guys. It's clear she knows her way around this place. Everyone pauses as she walks through the crowd.

She’s standing with a redheaded guy, laughing, and she shoves him in the chest playfully. He’s a big guy, but he’s not a threat. It’s clear the two are friends.

She's a little slip of a thing. Probably half my size and even sitting here at the bar, I feel my shoulders broaden, my chest lift as I straighten my spine. She's the kind of girl I could probably tuck under my arm, who would be safe there.

But by the way she’s talking, laughing, and making jokes, I don't suppose she's the kind of girl who needs any sort of protection. She's a feisty little thing in a green dress, which is barely covering her ass.