Love
Punked
When her life is irrevocably altered by a
post-Rave tryst on her mother's floral patio recliner, Erin Roberts’
long-standing relationship with Humiliation takes her down a path that's not so
much 'less well trodden', more 'perilous descent down sheer cliffs'.
Armed with a fierce devotion to her best
friend and the unrequited love for the boy she might have accidentally married
at age seven, when Erin falls pregnant at sixteen, life veers off at a most
unexpected tangent.
Her journey to adulthood is far from
ordinary as Erin learns that protecting the hearts of those most precious to
you isn't balm enough when your Love Punked heart is as sore as your freshly
tattooed arse.
Whilst raising football prodigies and
trying not to get stuck in lifts with Social Work clients who hate her, Erin
discovers that sometimes you have to circumnavigate the globe to find the very
thing that was there all along.
Purchase
Links:
Amazon UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1717868096
Amazon US -
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1717868096
Extract
Four:
“Erin, Erin!
Come on poppet, open your eyes for me, come on sweetheart, if you don’t open
your eyes right now, I’m going to have to call an ambulance. Erin!”, I jump as
somebody shouts in my ear and I feel a sharp pinch to my other earlobe.
“Owww!”, I
jolt and sit bolt upright, blinking in the bright florescent light of what I
quickly realise is Miss. Harvey’s sick bay.
I turn and
see a concerned looking Miss. Harvey, a pretty twenty-something who multi-tasks
as the school Bursar, sick bay manager and Head Teacher’s PA. I groan as
another wave of nausea sweeps over me although it’s arrested by the sight of a
shirtless Gio Romano thrusting a cardboard bowler hat under my chin, “In there
Roberts, not all over any other bastard this time”.
“MR. ROMANO! Mind your language and will you PLEASE go and
put a shirt on”, Miss, Harvey scolds him but I spot the slight blush in her
cheeks. Those six-pack rumours were spot
on then Romano.
Miss. Harvey
runs through the standard checklist as Gio rinses his vomit covered shirt in
the sick bay sink. Have I been sick before today? What did I last eat? Have I
got a temperature? Have I banged my head today? Anyone else ill in my family?
Blah, blah. Nothing of any significance.
As he rinses
his shirt, Gio shouts over his shoulder from across the room, “This isn’t the
first time a woman’s puked on me, y’know. My cousin did at Christmas, turns out
she was knocked up but she had no clue until she chundered in my lap”, he turns
back to the sink sniggering.
I don’t laugh.
I don’t move. I feel every single drop of blood drain from my upper body and
pool in my feet as my veins re-fill with ice. I hear the Rolodex of my mental
calendar ticking in my head and I realise that the small stockpile of Tampax in
my bedside drawer has built up for a reason.
I turn, in
almost comedic slow motion, to stare at Miss. Harvey. My eyes must look like
saucers and I can feel my lip wobbling as my eyes fill with tears. To be fair,
Miss. Harvey’s facial expression is even funnier, I’d laugh if I wasn’t on the
verge of collapse. Her face drains of colour in response to my wide eyed panic
and her jaw drops as if it lost the pin in its hinge.
I can’t stop
the sob that falls out of my mouth and Miss Harvey, her youth never more
evident, claps her hand to her mouth in astonishment with no pretence of
professional neutrality.
“Oh my fucking GOD Roberts, are you serious?”, I swivel like
the girl from the Exorcist to face a gob smacked Romano, who also looks like
he’s seen a ghost.
Miss. Harvey
is roused into belated action, “MR ROMANO, OUT! Take your shirt and please
leave, I need to speak to Erin on her own. Get a spare shirt from the office if
you need one”, she leaps up and makes ushering motions but Gio is just staring
at me and not moving, his surprisingly broad chest heaving as he takes deep,
shocked breaths.
My eyes must
be broadcasting more info than the Time Square Billboards. Shock, panic,
horror, shame, fear, astonishment- they’re all there, flicker-taping across my
features as loud as any shout. I gasp as Gio comes towards me, his face
surprisingly kind and conciliatory looking,
“Want me to fetch Morris?”, his voice is a gentle murmur.
Lees. I need my Lees.
I nod frantically, prompting the spillage of more tears down my face. He nods
and gently pats my arm before he heads swiftly out of the door, bare chested
and clutching his dripping shirt. That hand-pat transmitted as much of a
message as any words. “Your secret’s safe
with me Roberts”, was what Gio meant and in these brief seconds, I trust
him.
Author Bio
– I am a UK based author of Contemporary women's fiction who
is passionate about telling the stories of strong, sympathetic, entertaining
and engaging female characters and the lives that they lead. My Welsh heritage
and my life as a practising Social Worker with teenagers and their families
heavily influences my work as does my love of all things 90's and an adolescence
spent immersed in clubbing culture.
Social
Media Links –
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