The Contact Series by Anthony R

Nico Adamson is the Zippie. The expensive Aussie import. The show pony. The guy who smiles for the cameras while his life crumbles under a blackmail threat he can’t outrun. Garrick Wallace is the Wall. Six-foot-six of British misery. The enforcer who hates distractions, flashy players, and everything Nico represents. On the pitch, they are a machine. In the changing room, they are a liability... moreNico Adamson is the Zippie. The expensive Aussie import. The show pony. The guy who smiles for the cameras while his life crumbles under a blackmail threat he can’t outrun. Garrick Wallace is the Wall. Six-foot-six of British misery. The enforcer who hates distractions, flashy players, and everything Nico represents. On the pitch, they are a machine. In the changing room, they are a liability. When a career-ending threat forces them into the same corner, the friction stops being professional and starts getting physical. It’s messy, it’s violent, and it breaks every rule in the contract. No flowers. No poetry. Just the game. less

The scrum is a brutal place. The locker room is worse. Robert "Bulldog" Drake is the dirt. The noise. The Hooker who scrapes for every inch on the pitch and goes home to a silent flat in Hackney. He doesn't do polish. He doesn't do feelings. He survives on friction. Then there’s Gunnar. The new Tighthead Prop. Rich, silent, and built like a luxury tank, Gunnar is everything Robert hates about the game. He treats rugby like a chess match while Robert treats it like a war... moreThe scrum is a brutal place. The locker room is worse. Robert "Bulldog" Drake is the dirt. The noise. The Hooker who scrapes for every inch on the pitch and goes home to a silent flat in Hackney. He doesn't do polish. He doesn't do feelings. He survives on friction. Then there’s Gunnar. The new Tighthead Prop. Rich, silent, and built like a luxury tank, Gunnar is everything Robert hates about the game. He treats rugby like a chess match while Robert treats it like a war. They are supposed to be a unit—the front row requires absolute trust—but between the mud and the blood, the hatred turns into something else. Something heavy. Something violent. When the rivalry boils over, it doesn't happen on the pitch. It happens in the dark, where the lines between fighting and heat blur until they break. HOOK is a gritty M/M rugby romance about class conflict, physical obsession, and two men colliding without brakes. No flowers. No romance. Just the weight. less

He is the chaos I can’t predict. I am the wall he can’t break. Dave. I don’t do messy. I do routine. Discipline. Violence when required. Kinsley is nothing but mess. A washed-up rugby pro drowning in debt to the Syndicate. The job is Lock him in a safehouse. Keep him breathing. Don't kill him myself. But you can’t cage a storm without getting wet. Kinsley. The numbers don’t talk to me anymore; they scream. Every exit is blocked by men with knives, and my only way out is him. Dave. Massive... moreHe is the chaos I can’t predict. I am the wall he can’t break. Dave. I don’t do messy. I do routine. Discipline. Violence when required. Kinsley is nothing but mess. A washed-up rugby pro drowning in debt to the Syndicate. The job is Lock him in a safehouse. Keep him breathing. Don't kill him myself. But you can’t cage a storm without getting wet. Kinsley. The numbers don’t talk to me anymore; they scream. Every exit is blocked by men with knives, and my only way out is him. Dave. Massive. Silent. A fortress in a cheap suit. I hate his rules. I hate his calm. But when the panic rises, he’s the only solid thing in a world spinning off its axis. The Gamble. Kinsley pushes boundaries because he’s addicted to the risk. I hold the line because I’m the only thing keeping him alive. But every night in this house is a roll of the dice. The danger isn't that I'll fail to protect him. It's that I'll stop wanting to let him go. less