Today we have the release day blitz of FIGHTING THE ODDS by Kristen Granata! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!
Title: FIGHTING THE ODDS
Author: Kristen Granata
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Fighting the Odds:I’d prepared myself for a life without love. Lost my parents and anyone else I got close to. Nothing good ever stays for long. I’m a statistic after all. Former foster kid. Former drug addict, alcoholic. Always thought I was destined to be alone. Always felt like I wasn’t worth a damn. Then Carla Evans walked into my life. One look at her in that uptight, buttoned-up outfit and I knew I had to have her. For a night, I’d indulge myself in the fantasy of a girl like her actually wanting a guy like me. Then she moved here with no job and that ridiculous bucket list. I knew she needed my help. I just didn’t expect to need hers. I spent a long time letting myself believe I didn’t deserve happiness. It took me a while (and a whole lot of therapy) to realize I’d had it all wrong. Now I know. And now I have to tell her. *This new adult romance flip-flops between the past and present, following TJ’s difficult journey to get to where he is now. Fighting the Odds deals with sensitive topics like drug abuse, death, foster care, homelessness, and miscarriage. But it is also an inspirational story of love, friendship, hope, and finding your inner warrior.
Carla “I’ll take a Corona, please.” I hand the bartender my fake ID and settle against the back of my stool. She pops the top off the bottle and slides it my way. I take a long swig. “You don’t strike me as the beer type.” I hold my hand up without looking at who the deep voice belongs to. “Save your energy for someone else, please.” Can’t a girl sit alone at a bar without being hit on? “It doesn’t really take much energy to have a conversation, but thanks for your concern.” I roll my eyes and take another few gulps of my beer. I pretend to watch the TV above the bar, though I can feel the stranger’s eyes on me. “Who are you rooting for?” he asks. “What?” “The fight you’re staring at so intently. Who are you rooting for?” “I’m not rooting for anyone. MMA is a barbaric sport. How these guys get paid mega bucks to beat each other up is beyond me. Just another testament to our Neanderthal society.” “Those guys aren’t just beating each other up.” I gesture toward the screen. “Those two dudes are throwing punches at each other. That guy is bleeding profusely from his nose. They certainly aren’t doing ballet.” The stranger chuckles. “Okay, so they are fighting. But there’s more to it than that. It takes skill and training to do what they do.” “Oh, look. Now they’re on the ground. That guy’s going to lay on top of the other one for the next five minutes. You’re right. Looks like they’ve had a lot of training.” I drain the rest of my beer and stand. So much for enjoying a drink alone. “You should stay and watch the fight. I’ll prove to you just how much skill these guys have.” I spin around to face the annoying stranger, allowing myself to look at him for the first time. Holy muscles. I clamp my mouth shut to keep it from falling wide open. Brawny. Strapping. Muscular. Built. None of the words coming to mind seem adequate enough to describe the Herculean god sitting before me. It’s almost a sin he covered himself up with all those tattoos. Almost. The intricate pieces of art twist around his muscular arms, all the way down to his knuckles. A tease of ink pokes out of the neckline of his shirt, stopping halfway up his neck. Every inch of his body has trouble written all over it. His face though … his face is a different story. It’s so handsome it looks like it doesn’t belong on his body. The icy-blue of his eyes is warmed by his smile, which is complete with a set of dimples. A backwards baseball cap covers his hair, but his thick brows and scruff peppering his chiseled jawline are as dark as a cup of coffee. He’s an oxymoron. The face of an angel with the body of Satan himself. A dark ray of light. A friendly nemesis. The man is menacingly beautiful. And I’m gawking. I clear my throat and try to remember what it was he’d asked me. “I’ve had a long trip. I’m going to call it a night.” “Where you coming from?” “Florida. Just arrived.” “And the first place you come to is a bar?” My eyes narrow and I prop my hand on my hip. “Don’t judge me. You don’t know a thing about me.” His hands shoot up. “Hey, I wasn’t judging. I was just making an observation.” “Well, don’t do that either.”