Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Love Punked by Nia Lucas - Book Tour

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.

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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.

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