by Alley Ciz
Alley
Randomness For My Readers
Hello new friends!
I hope you enjoyed hanging out with Jake and Jordan and getting to know all their crazy friends. Did you know, when I first started writing Power Play I had zero intention of publishing it. I know, I know… What?! Well it’s true.
So how did Power Play come to be you ask? Well lets see…
Ever have one of those dreams you can’t shake? The kind that you have over and over no matter how many nights in a row, you either repeat it or it picks up where it left off the night before? Well that’s what Power Play was to me. Jake and Jordan just had to tell me their story and one day I decided to write it down.
Then chapter by chapter I sent it off to my two book junkie cousins to read and eight years later I finally finished the rough draft. Eight Years?! I know forever. Luckily for you, now that I decided “Hey maybe I should do this thing,” I write a hell of a lot faster.
Even with it done, I still didn’t know if I was going to publish it and release it out in the world. Then with my Hubs and family giving me a push and my parents paying for my first editor I decided to give it a go.
Then thanks to fangirling all over Maria Luis and Renee Linda in their reader groups, I made them become my internet besties *one day we will hang out in person* and picked their brains on how to turn this dream of being an author a reality and now you have Power Play in your hands. Still can’t believe this is real life.
So thank you so much for giving Power Play a shot *see what I did there* as well as taking a chance on me by reading my debut. If you want to go for the hat trick, make sure you pick up Tap Out when it comes out in September. *See told you I write faster than one book every eight years.*
So now for a little bullet style fun facts:
- Like Jordan I was a competitive swimmer. I didn’t swim in college but I was a 4 years Varsity swimmer in high school and summer club team member for years.
- My Hubs did play hockey growing up, but sadly by the time I met him he know longer played.
- A Corvette is my dream car
- I love the Transformers
- Friends and How I Met Your Mother are on constantly repeat in my house. I even have my toddlers trained to ask to put it on TV *major parental accomplishment right there*
-The Hubs and I were reigning beer pong champs back in the day
- I worked in a bar during college, even have my bartending license. *Did you know you can go to school to be a bartender?*
- The story of how Jordan and Skye met? That’s how really met one of my besties.
- My main squad is huge like the BTU crew and most of us have been friends since high school or sooner.
If my rambling hasn’t turned you off and you are like “This chick is my kind of crazy,” feel free to reach out!
Lots of Love,
Alley
For A Good Time Call
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Sneak Peak of Tap Out
*This is unedited, so there are typos and content is subject to change*
Chapter 1
Gage James thought the local sports bar, The Ring, showed major potential, as he looked around for his cousin. It had the standard oak bar, beer taps and giant TVs, but what he really loved was the two-story ceilings. As a UFC Heavyweight Champion standing six-seven and tipping the scale at two sixty he was not a small guy and often felt claustrophobic in dark, tightly-packed bars.
He eyed the two dozen beer taps that ran the length of the bar, longing for the bliss a good IPA provided, as he felt the phantom twinge in his hip from a past injury. Unfortunately, he needed to abstain from alcohol from the evening, his meeting in the morning was too important.
Running a hand over his short-cropped hair, he looked around for his cousin Wyatt and found him playing darts with a few guys in the next room and made his way over.
Without any siblings of their own, they were closer than your typical cousins. It wasn’t until they graduated high school the two ended up living on separate coasts— Wyatt moving out East with his high school sweetheart, and now wife Beth, while he stayed in California to train.
“Can’t believe they let you ugly mug in this place.” He joked as he clapped his cousin on the back.
“I’m ugly?” Wyatt retorted smiling broadly. Their looks were as close as their relationship, both having inherited the dark brown hair and bright blue eyes of the James’ genes. “Have you seen your face? Looks like someone has taken one too many shots in the octagon.”
Gage laughed along with him. They both knew how rare it was that he actually took a hit to the face. In fact, it was legendary throughout the UFC. He attributed some of it to his height, but mostly the honor went to the fighting skills he spent countless hours honing.
“Don’t be jealous, cuz. Not all of us could be so lucky to look as good as me.” He flexed his bicep making the black ink on his arm dance.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, cuz.” Wyatt countered and turned to introduce Gage to the other guys from the firehouse he was playing darts with.
“Honor to meet you.”
“Hell of a last fight you had.”
Once their initial statements to his career were over, he was relieved when the guys reverted back to treating him like they would any other normal guy. It wasn’t like he was the biggest celebrity— outside of the fighting community he could go most days without being recognized, unless he was promoting a fight— a fact he was more than okay with, preferring to fly under the radar. Alas, with social media making it easier to engage with fans, celebrity was a small price to pay to be able to support one’s self doing something they loved.
At twenty-seven, he was already working on the back half of his career, having held on to his title for two years— two hard fought years— luckily none of his fights since had been as grueling as when he first took the belt.
Again, another twinge in his hip at the thought of the five punishing rounds he had to go through to beat Curtis “The Cutter” Cutler. The ex-Heavyweight Champ was a beast of a man, as well as a terrible human being. The guy had earned his fighting moniker by being known to intentionally drawing as much blood for his opponents as possible.
He rolled his shoulders, hoping to rid himself of all thoughts of The Cutter, he didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. The guy was already like a gnat buzzing around his head with the way he trolled him on social media, he didn’t deserve to have him actively thinking of him.
Besides, he had his own shit to focus on if he wanted to avoid the dreaded “R” word for as many years as possible.
After a few minutes of playing darts with the guys, a cocktail waitress came by to see if anyone needed a refill. She took orders for another round of beer for the firefighters with a smile and turned her gaze in his direction.
He watched a
s her gaze traveled up and down his body blatantly checking him out and couldn’t repress the smile from gracing his lips. As if scripted, his watched her smile widen and her hip cock out to the side. “What can I get you hon?” Clearly offering more then what was on the bar menu.
She was a cute girl, college aged if he had to guess, with dark blonde hair and brown eyes. He returned her smile, making sure to keep his friendly instead of come-hither like hers. He wasn’t here to pick anyone up. No, tonight was for hanging out with his best friend, and getting his head on straight for his big meeting the next day.
“I’ll take a club soda, thanks.” He didn’t like to drink while training. He technically didn’t have a fight scheduled at the moment but since he was meeting with a potential new coaches and trainers in the morning he didn’t want anything to slow down his instincts.
“You got it.” She answered with another flirty smile and made her way to the bar to fill their orders.
“I still can’t believe you’re moving here.” Wyatt said expressed.
“Well I want to be around to see my godchild grow up and Beth is getting ready to pop soon. So it seemed like a good idea to me.”
From the moment he got the phone call telling him he was going to be a godfather to the next generation of James children, he knew it was time to make a change to be closer to those who we’re most important to him, aside from his own parents.
Tony Malone, was one of the top MMA coaches on the West coast. He trained some of the best fighters throughout his forty plus years as a coach. He had already been nearing retirement when he started training him in high school, but continued on for another dozen years when he saw the potential in him.
He was happy for his old coach, he really was, if anyone deserved to enjoy the fruits of their labor it was Tony. And yes, moving coasts was his idea, but switching gyms and coaches, only added to the long list of complications that could pop up for him. There were things he didn’t need discovered.
“What are you going to do about your training though? Don’t you MMA guys have like a gym you usually work out of and a coach or something?” One of Wyatt’s coworkers asked.
“When Wyatt and Beth found of they were expecting, it was right before my last fight. My coach had been hinting for a while now he felt it was getting time to retire but I think he was hanging on for me. So when I told him about the baby, he started helping me find gyms and coaches in the area that I could meet to be closer to them and then he wouldn’t feel guilty about retiring.”
The past six months had been spent researching and interviewing potential candidates. Tony was even pickier than him when it came to selecting the new “home” of his prized fighter. It was a very short list to work off of. Like the stars alining, the top pick also happened to be close to where his cousin was a firefighter.
The Steele Maker had made a name for itself with a handful of boxing and judo champions, only emerging as one of the top MMA gyms in the last decade. He was so impressed by Vic Steele during their video chat, he made the decision to become one of his fighters without even seeing the place in person.
That’s what his tomorrow was.
“So you must be meeting with Vic then right?”
He nodded his head. “How’d you know?”
“Vic is pretty well known around here. He was an Olympic champion at Judo and his brother Mick was a World Champion boxer. Vic’s son is projected to be the next Light Heavyweight Champ.”
These were all facts he himself was aware of, but for a layman to have the knowledge, spoke highly of the gym and it’s staff’s reputation. More proof his gut was right, even with his other reservations.
“It’s good to know it’s such common knowledge outside the fighting world.” He paused to take a sip of the club soda the waitress delivered earlier. “From everything Tony has told me, Vic’s who he was looking at if I wanted someone to take over my training before I even mentioned wanting to move out here.”
“Vic’s a good guy. A bunch of the guys from the firehouse work out at his gym so we’ve gotten to know him through the years.”
Another thing he already knew. When he told his cousin The Steele Maker made the short list, Wyatt was all too willing to provide any intel needed.
The guys played darts for the next hour and he enjoyed getting to know some of the guys his cousin worked with. He was happy his cousin had such solid people as his firehouse family. For as close as he was with his old coach, he never really had that closeness with the other fighters who trained in the same gym. If he was being honest with himself, it was something he was a little bit jealous of.
He checked his watch and noticed it was getting close to ten. He was getting ready to call it a night when a commotion from the next room caught their attention.
ROCKY LOOKED ACROSS the pool table and lined up her shot, ignoring Becky’s attempts at distraction. She smiled as she sunk the eight ball in the corner pocket.
“Damn. I thought I had you that game,” Becky said on a laugh.
She stood up and grabbed her beer off the pub table they commandeered and took a long swallow before responding. “It was close that time, I only beat you by a ball.”
Once a week, she and her friends would frequent The Ring, a hybrid restaurant/sports bar establishment about twenty minutes from where most of them lived. Most nights it was a low-key establishment, a place they could go to to unwind, grab a bite to eat, while being able to watch whatever the current season’s sporting event played on the many televisions throughout the place.
“Yeah I know, but I was hoping to sweep you tonight,” Becky said leaning against her pool stick. “It’s okay, I still have one more game to kick your ass again.”
She laughed. Her bestie was as fiery as her red bob hair cut. There wasn’t a time in her life where she could remember not being friends with Becky Reese. The Reese family lived next door and that was all she wrote. Nowadays, Becky was in charge of Rocky’s family’s gym The Steele Maker, running it with military precision.
Becky’s emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she met her own gray ones across the table as she racked the balls for their last game. As she bent to put the racking triangle back a drunk asshole started heckling her.
“Oh yeah, baby, look as that ass. Why don’t you give us a little shake, darling.” He called over and laughed with his friends as if he was the most clever man ever.
“How about not.” Becky retorted as she made her way to the other end of the pool table to join her and get further away from the jerks.
“You know, it’s times like these I miss the rest of The Coven.”
Rocky had to agree. The Coven, as the guys liked to call her and her best friends, was made up of six of the fiercest chicks around— at least in her opinion— and when they were together, no one messed with them. To be fair, when you put together a physical therapist/trainer to a group of professional MMA fighters, their nutritionist/personal chef, the woman who kept their gym in line, plus a best selling author, and two women who ran a sports Public Relations empire— one of which who happened to be married to a professional hockey player— it almost went unsaid— they were women, hear them roar.
Plus when they were out in a group, they were less likely to be approached by idiots like these.
Since she won their last game, she made her way to the end of the table to break. The girls traded shots back and forth for a few minutes, doing their best to ignore the drunk idiots near by. Unfortunately, a few shots later she had to go to the other side of the table to be able to line up her next shot. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the group across the way. With the cocky leans and popped collars, they just screamed frat boys. She heaved a heavy breath as she trudged down the table.
Once she was stretched out to take the shot, she felt a hand graze her bare thigh trying to make its way up to the hem of jean cutoffs. Her back shot straight up and she turned to glare daggers at the asshole who thought he had the right to touch her.
“To
uch me again and I promise you won’t like what happens.” She practically growled at the offender.
She was met with a chorus of oooooo’s.
“Whatever you say, babe.” The guy leered at her.
“I am so not your, babe.”
Rocky, and consequently her cousin Gemma and Becky, were raised in a fighter’s world. Both Vic and Mick Steele, didn’t believe in raising no damsels. Though she may not have chosen to step into the ring herself, she made for one hell of a sparring partner. So a bunch of drunk assholes— especially those who felt entitled to put their hands on women— well, they should watch themselves.
Trying to shrug it off, she bent to retake her shot. Right after she made contact with the cue ball, she felt a hand make contact with her ass. Reacting purely on instinct, she dropped the pool stick, spun around, grabbed the wrist of the offending hand, pulled back, twisted the arm up and back while shoving his face down on the table by the back of the neck. She pulled back and put pressure on his elbow making him let out a startled squeak.
Oh hell no.
“Now you see,” she kept her voice deceptively calm. “I know my ass is nice because I work out and train with my brother. Who I guess I should mention is a fighter in the UFC.” She mentioned her brother’s occupation like it was a typical for your everyday person. “And this right here,”— she pulled back on his arm more— “is a variation on one of my favorite moves of his, an arm bar.”
She took a moment to check on douchebag number one’s friends but they all stood around in a drunken stupor.
“Now, usually, you use your legs to help pull the arm back and keep pulling until the elbow hyperextends and breaks.” She paused to give the statement a chance to sink in. “That is if the person doesn’t tap out first,” she added offhandedly.