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A Note To My Readers

I’m not sure if you all know but I have been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis for quite some time, about a few years before Real. This is why I dedicate most my books to the good things in life, like music, or second chances, because really, every day we’re able to live our lives to the fullest is a gift like that.

I woke up one morning unable to speak or to use my right hand. I waved off my hubby and my kids with my left and then kept trying to move my right hand: super tingly.

I called a friend and asked her: ‘Hey when you were on this new diet, did you get a numb right hand and tongue?’

She could hardly understand me; my tongue was partly paralyzed, along with the right side of my face. She texted her neurologist who summoned me immediately to the hospital.

My husband came back for me, freaking out. A week in intensive care and tests confirmed multiple scars and new lesions in my brain – this was followed by huge shots of steroids, anti depressants and a recommendation to stay out of the sun and stress free.

During the next month, I would awaken at night while my arm moved on its own like a robotic limb with its own mind. I couldn’t move it myself, but as the nerve repaired, it jerked sometimes. It scared me. I would sit in my tub and look at my toes and think of how marvelous it feels to actually feel your toes, move your toes. Two months later, I could write my name again. Like a schoolgirl, it took me minutes to get four letters down but my husband always waited patiently for me to do so.

My signature and handwriting were permanently changed, I guess brain lesions do that. I was told I’d never know when it would come back, they call it The Silent Disease. I was advised to be realistic, not to kid myself in thinking that I would be back to normal ever again, because when I had another episode, which was likely to come, I’d be devastated. “Just wait for it and store every good thing that you can in your toolbox because that’s what you will use to pull yourself up when it comes back.”

I guess this is why I love writing about fighters. We all fight for something in our lives, love, health, respect, forgiveness.

March is MS Awareness month, and in February I have my last Real series book out, of which I will be donating a percentage of sales to the NationalMsSociety.Org.

MS is a disease like many others, without a real cure, but with many many hopefuls who hang on every day like champions, hoping for one. ;) So if you’re one of my readers, and planned to pick up Legend, then thank you so much in advance! Thank you so much for your support, not just for my work and characters, but also this cause.

Love you and Happy Holidays!


Pre-order links:
Google Play

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BEST OF 2015!

Readers, so honored to share that MANWHORE was named Audible’s best romance of 2015! Thank you  for reading (and listening!) :D

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Manwhore #3

So many of you have been asking about Tahoe and Gina getting a book, and I couldn’t really say until the story came to me and guys, it SO has!!! So it’s official. Tahoe and Gina are getting a story.
I’m deeply immersed in the couple already and am hard at work in the writing cave, hoping to share with you before summer 2016.

You can add it to your Goodreads shelf here.
(And of course I’ll share pre-order buttons and cover as I soon as I have them.) Super excited for you guys to get close and personal with Mr. Tahoe ROTH!

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They’re back!

The time is finally here. Ms. Manwhore is live – you can get the complete Malcolm Saint and Rachel Livingston stories now!

I truly hope you enjoy the extra novella; this little book wasn’t initially planned but came about organically as I wrote the ending of Manwhore +1 and greedily wanted MORE. For all of those who wanted more, this is for you!

Happy reading and SINning, everyone. :)


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Real series #6

Guys, I present you with Real book #6’s title, blurb and cover.

I’m dying to share the book!

February 9, 2016 – mark your calendars!


(Real series #6)

Can love really conquer all? – Book 6 in Katy Evan’s breakout New York Times bestselling series that began with REAL.

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage wants to rise to the top and become a legend in the ring. Though he keeps his identity well guarded, he’s known on the fighting circuit as the new kid with a chip on his shoulder and a tattoo on his back that marks him as trouble. He’s got a personal score to settle with the Underground’s one and only Remington “Riptide” Tate.

As Mav trains, he meets a young girl—the only other new person in the town–and sparks fly. When things get heated between them, he finds out she’s none other than Reese Dumas, the cousin of Remington Tate’s wife. A girl who’s supposed to root against him and a girl he’s supposed to stay away from.

But Maverick fights for the woman in his heart, and the monsters in his blood. The world’s eyes are on them and the victor will go down in history as the ultimate fighting champion; the ultimate LEGEND.

Preorder here:



Barnes and Noble




Google Play



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Happy book birthday, Saint and Rachel


Chicago’s favorite playboy, M4, the Toy, the Bugattis, the passion, the romance, and the reporter he can’t forget. The man they call Saint was made to sin for.

Guys, Malcolm Saint…is back! Manwhore +1 – now live.


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Manwhore +1 FIRST EXCERPT!
          I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding up to the executive floor on my own.
           Toward him.
           Toward the man I love.
           My body is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor.
          Stepping out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass, marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room.
           Framing those doors to each side is a pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four.
           Behind these desks are four women in identical black-and-white suits, sitting behind their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen computers.
           One of them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her desk and murmurs my name into it.
           I. Am. Not. Breathing.
           But Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man in Chicago.
           The human being with the most powerful effect on me.
           This is what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand others that I left unsent. To see him.
           For him to want to see me.
           But as I force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did.
           I’m wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but bright, even as I shake like a leaf.
           Catherine holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his office.
            Two steps inside I hear the swoosh of the glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the most beautiful office I’ve ever been in.
           His office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless floor-to-ceiling windows.
           And there he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world.
           He’s pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches …
           He hangs up, and as if he feels me in the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes.
           His achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes.
           He inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his sides as he looks at me.
           I look back at him.
           Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint.
           I just walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A hurricane.
           Four weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger than life, and more irresistible than ever.
           His striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly full I can almost feel them against mine. Six-feet-plus of perfectly controlled male power stand before me, in a perfect black suit and a killer tie. He’s the very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those penetrating eyes.
           He’s got the best eyes.
           They twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about his thoughts.
           But I had forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards.
           He clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside.
           He looks as approachable as a wall, his shoulders stretching his white shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie. But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like this.
           He’s walking towards me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his.
           He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.
   ♥    ♥   ♥   ♥

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Pre-order surprise!

Two weeks until MANWHORE +1 releases and I’m so eager for you to get your hands on more Saint and Rachel. I hope you love this story the way I do!

To thank you all for your incredible support, we have a special PRE-ORDER SURPRISE!

Submit your pre-orders on the link below to receive an early peek of MS. MANWHORE, the last of Sin and Rachel’s love story, a story that was pure joy and swoons for me to write!


Click here to enter: http://www.katyevans.net/pre-order-bonus/

And thank you all SO much for loving this couple like I do! Can’t wait for July 7th….

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Ms. Manwhore cover


I’m stoked to share with you the cover for Ms. Manwhore, Rachel and Saint’s novella. I’m just dying to share them again with you! ❤️



Katy Evans returns with a sexy novella, the final installment of the unforgettable love story that began in MANWHORE.

What lies ahead for Chicago’s most envied couple, Malcolm Saint and Rachel Livingston?

Sparks flew between them in MANWHORE.

Separated by deception, the intensity and heat of their attraction turned up in MANWHORE +1.

Will Chicago’s wealthiest and most notorious player finally settle down, or will one woman never be enough?

Find out in MS. MANWHORE, the ultimate conclusion to their electric, breathtaking story.

Preorder links:

Are you ready to Sin?!

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More Saint soon! Eeep!

“I can’t breathe when you’re near but I can’t live without you.”


JULY 7th

Pre-order links:
Amazon Paperback
B&N Paperback

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