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  • Home
  • Reviews
  • Ratings
    • 3 Stars
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  • Our Rating System
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  • New Releases

REVIEW: THE RENTAL (THE RENTAL #1) by Rebecca Berto

September 24, 2014

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000032_00030]

Synopsis:

At first, Rick Delaney watched Vee Wyland with the hungry eyes of a fox as if she were a rabbit … his rabbit. But one day, he slunk away without notice.

Months away from graduating high school, Vee’s life is on the verge of crumbling. At home, dire finances and long hours test her family. Her boyfriend hardly pays attention to her. And she can’t shake her feelings for his older brother, Rick.

Then, all in one night, tragedy tears her teetering life into shreds.

When Rick and Vee reunite, the sparks fly. However, she unwittingly signs away a future for both of them. In his world, a place called The Rental, she becomes Victoria and Rick becomes Rhett. One part of her watches with fascination, while the other unfurls and embraces her sexual awakening. It began as a game, but the consequences are real.

Following their heart’s desire is forbidden, but walking away could strip their hope for a future.

The Rental is an erotic romance that explores how sex isn’t purely physical; sometimes, it’s a gateway to your soul

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Cathy’s Review:

Let me start by saying The Rental had THE hottest sex scenes I’ve read in a long time! The threesomes (and and don’t forget foursomes!) are absolutely out of this world. This book is so hot that my husband was very pleasantly surprised! Now on to the story –

Vee is going out with Justin, but has been in love with his brother Rick from the beginning. Rick leaves for unknown reasons and Justin pursues Vee with no shame until she gives in. Rick returns. There is also another storyline involving Vee’s father, as well as a story involving drugs and Justin. Even though I though the story could have been tightened up a bit, you MUST read this book just for the sex scenes!!

I also absolutely loved Rick. He is sweet and bossy and sexy all in one. If you are looking for a SUPER hot and steamy book with some suspense thrown in, I highly recommend The Rental. But have a cold shower ready 🙂

Handsome man in black hoodie showing his abdominal muscles

(Teaser courtesy of the author)

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Categories : 4 Stars, Erotica Tagged : Rebecca Berto, Reviews, The Rental

Cover Reveal & Excerpt: The Rental by Rebecca Berto

August 21, 2014

The Rental header

Title: The Rental, #1

Series: The Rental

Author: Rebecca Berto

Genre: Erotic Romance

Expected Release Date: September 22, 2014

Cover Designer: Berto Designs 

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Synopsis

At first, Rick Delaney watched Vee Wyland with the hungry eyes of a fox as if she were a rabbit … his rabbit. But one day, he slunk away without notice.

Months away from graduating high school, Vee’s life is on the verge of crumbling. At home, dire finances and long hours test her family. Her boyfriend hardly pays attention to her. And she can’t shake her feelings for his older brother, Rick. 

Then, all in one night, tragedy tears her teetering life into shreds. 

When Rick and Vee reunite, the sparks fly. However, she unwittingly signs away a future for both of them. In his world, a place called The Rental, she becomes Victoria and Rick becomes Rhett. One part of her watches with fascination, while the other unfurls and embraces her sexual awakening. It began as a game, but the consequences are real.

Following their heart’s desire is forbidden, but walking away could strip their hope for a future.

The Rental is an erotic romance that explores how sex isn’t purely physical; sometimes, it’s a gateway to your soul.

 

Pre – Order The Rental  today

Amazon global link | iTunes | Kobo | B&N

 

Chapter 1

Rick Delaney was parked outside my house with my boyfriend. He stepped out of his car and lifted two fingers, saluting me at the front door. He shouldn’t have been.

How could he return to Melbourne after a whole year when I resigned to a life without him—a life, specifically, with the brother he’d arrived? Bottled-up feelings pounded in my chest so hard I was glad no one was home to witness it.

And my boyfriend? He tripped getting out of the passenger seat. That’s what can happen when you looked at your mobile phone instead of your girlfriend’s smiling face. My expression soured as he passed me, not even a peck on the cheek.

“What’s with the ride?” I called.

Their mum, Mrs Delaney, should’ve been dropping Justin off like usual. But he ignored me and trudged farther into my house.

Rick noticed my expression and jogged up the stairs. Elder by three years, he stood tall with the composure of a man compared to his teenage brother. Strong shoulders filled out his dark T-shirt. He was bigger in not only his upper body but everywhere—thick arms and thighs and a solid build. Add that to a smile and he melted the hearts of women everywhere—seventeen-year-old girls included.

“Mum and Dad are in Europe,” Rick said. “They call it a long-awaited honeymoon. Justin and I call it a mid-life crisis.”

My jaw hung open. How could Justin not tell me? I thought this type of thing excited a boyfriend. Weeks of no parental supervision at home—it’d excite me if not for the sudden pit of worry in my belly. “They’re away? They’re not here?”

“That’s what a holiday is.” Rick deadpanned.

“It’s just that Justin never told me anything.”

“It was only a few days ago.”

As if that made it okay. If Justin didn’t spend so much time with his phone in his face, he might have remembered to tell me. I didn’t know why, but it cut me that I didn’t know an important change in his life. I told him every time my dad left to truck interstate for work and that was every few weeks. He was gone more than he was here, and Mum worked odd hours. It was lonely and hard to stay away from the temptations Justin and my best friend, Cara offered me at parties or when we hung out.

“Hey, bro,” Justin called behind us. He came up and slammed his hand on the side of the front door. “Come fix the washing machine.”

“Washing machine?” I asked. Why are you acting like you live here? I was close to adding.

“Yeah,” he held out the front of his top, “got a Coke from your fridge and it squirted everywhere.”

“We don’t have any Coke left in the fridge.”

“You do in the spare one.”

I bit my lip and flexed my fingers by my side. Facing him, I cracked a thin smile. Most of the time, Justin wasn’t like this. Correction, before recently, my boyfriend wasn’t like this. He kissed me like no one else, and made me laugh, but damn it, he either had the memory of a goldfish or was too ignorant to care.

“That was for tomorrow night!” I stared into his eyes with hope of making him feel guilty, but he was clueless. “Dad’s back from Sydney tomorrow, and Mum’s got a dinner for us three. You know he loves Coke. You know he’s been away for weeks. You know Mum’s too busy working to buy more groceries before then.”

Justin shook his head. “So uptight.” He squeezed my ass, smiling as he planted his lips fully to mine. “I love that about you, but seriously, I forgot. And, your mum works at a supermarket, for fuck’s sake.”

True, but Justin drank Coke, and ate all the ice cream, and ate all the chips, and I got sick of explaining to Mum why I was so selfish as to keep putting her out when she only requested little favours like these on special occasions. Such as tomorrow.

“I’m not uptight.” I paused. “It’s fine about the top—I’ll hand wash and Rick—”

But as I turned to tell him not to worry about fixing the washing machine, my hands met a rock solid chest. I froze. My palms lingered on the contours of his defined pecs with my fingertips at his collarbone. Not able to look at his eyes, I dropped my hands, as if that would undo our moment.

It didn’t.

I’d spend sleepless nights dreaming about his body, as I did when he was far away and stopped talking to me. Pictures and memories of him were all I had.

Justin was hot with his dark eyes and brown hair, but compared to Rick, he was scrawny. Mostly bones everywhere, and when we made out, his hips rubbed into mine. I’d forgotten his shortfalls when it was just him and me. I liked him plenty and that grew to love. But now my past was back, and I had no idea what to feel when seconds ago my hands were on his brother.

That brother with a firm build, one that wouldn’t rub against me if we were to … I shut down that thought pattern. I shouldn’t imagine Rick on top of me. We were three years apart, and at my age, sex with him was illegal.

I pulled my thoughts in and mumbled, “Oh, um,” then took a breath and tried again. “Dad’s back tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. He’ll fix it then. I feel terrible putting you out.”

“It’s fine, Vee, really. Kill some time.”

“Thanks, fag,” Justin said, pulling at my arm to drag me away.

“God, Justin, you’re such an ass sometimes.” I shook out of his grip. He looked offended, so I added, “Gotta go clean up the Coke, remember?”

“Seriously,” Rick said, “you two just chill. I’ll let myself through. This way?” He pointed down the hall.

I nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“Fine.” Justin walked the other way. “You two have fun. I’m hanging in Vee’s bed.”

“Such a tool,” Rick said, walking to the washing machine.

“I know,” I mumbled.

I took out the mop and bucket, and then went to the cupboard to grab the concentrate liquid.

“I was born with a link to him, but indulge me,” Rick crouched by the washing machine on his haunches, legs spread and hands dangling between, “why is someone as smart and gorgeous as you with him?”

“I ask myself why—”

I stopped.

He said I was smart and gorgeous.

“Oh,” I managed between strangled breaths, “thanks.”

He half-smiled then got to work. His T-shirt rode up on one side as he leant over. Just above his pant line, the angular ‘V’ at his lower back peeked out. Hard as I tried notto gawk, it was impossible when I was alone with him in this small space.

“The um,” I started and almost forgot what I was going to say. Luckily, I recovered. “The machine won’t start. Not sure what it is. Mum and I have been hand washing for now.”

Rick turned, focusing his attention on the washer. I wiped the laundry bench and cupboard and mopped the floor, trying to concentrate on the mop end and not Rick’s ass or his body bent over the machine.

After I was done, I went to my room to hang with Justin, but he wasn’t there. I did a lap of the house, called his name, and checked the other rooms too, but he had literally disappeared. I paused a moment in the kitchen, steadying myself on the corner of the bench while I let the realisation absorb. He left without a goodbye, without much of a hello for that matter.

“Rick!” I called.

He emerged wiping his top down his face. I looked away as fast as I could, but the image of his lean eight-pack projected in my imagination anyway.

Justin might’ve been outside or somewhere I hadn’t checked. He had to be. I pushed aside the topic. It would be stupid to suggest he left.

“Thank you so much,” I said, meeting Rick’s eyes, “for in there.” I pointed behind him.

“But you don’t know if I fixed it.”

“You tried.”

He smiled with his lip jutted out and nodded, as if I impressed him. “Well,” he said, “you can be a woman of modern technology from now on. All fixed. It was a loose belt. Slipped off.”

“Oh, lucky me.”

The silence became louder, and judging by the tightness between Rick’s eyebrows, he had just noticed Justin’s absence.

“Justin?” I queried, and he nodded cautiously. “Yeah, I looked everywhere for him. This might sound stupid, but I think he left. I couldn’t find him. He’s just not here.”

Rick tensed his jaw, scoping the open living area. “Bull,” he said, but by the dismissive tone, he sounded like he was saying it to himself or about something else.

He stalked off toward my backyard without another word, so I scampered after him, my little legs no match for his long strides. I flipped the light on outside and Rick walked down the steps, following the shallow lighting spilling over the clumpy, yellowed grass and shrubs lining the property fence.

“Unbelievable,” Rick muttered, I thought, but I couldn’t be sure with his back facing me or by the growl to his tone.

He eased me back with a polite hand and walked around to my front door and beyond. He surveyed the porch and front yard in the same swift and efficient manner as the back, and then turned to me. We were facing each other separated by my whole house. The front light slammed behind him and it made him glow. I supposed I looked the same, and wondered if I seemed as mysterious and alluring as he did. Not possible.

We shut the doors and walked towards each other, meeting near my kitchen bench.

“Did he tell you he was leaving?”

“Not at all,” I said, scratching my head. “I just came from the laundry and he was gone. Maybe …” but I trailed off, feeling stupid for thinking it.

“What?” Rick said, eyes narrowed.

“Maybe he texted me letting me know why.”

Rick shrugged. “You could check.”

I did, returning with my mobile phone. I had one new message.

Justin: Had to go. Sorry, babe xoxo

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, embodying the same rage as Rick.

“What? He didn’t—” Rick looked at my mobile which I handed over, and he cut himself off to read. “He did. Where did he even go? What a bastard.”

Rick’s cheeks were inflamed now, and a telltale vein popped from his forehead. He scrubbed his temples with the heels of his hands.

I remained there not doing a thing. I hadn’t seen Rick for so long. I hadn’t a clue how to calm him down or what would be appropriate.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “He’s my boyfriend, not yours.”

“He’s my brother. I’m here to look out for him and the kid slips from my fingers.”

“Look out?” I asked.

Rick’s face blanched. He stood there with these big helpless arms dangling on either side of his body. He coughed and said, “Parents are away. Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

“Oh.” I sighed. “It’s nice of you to come back to keep an eye on him. I’m sure he doesn’t think so. Now he can’t run amuck with freedom.” I had so many questions to ask Rick, like whether London was an extended holiday or was he there for work or did he miss me? I couldn’t ask any of them though when we had more important things on our minds.

“I don’t think so either,” Rick said in a solemn tone. The severity of it hit me square in the chest like a physical force, and my body stood immobile while I adjusted to the weirdness of everything. Justin leaving, but also the aloof Rick Delaney that had changed since I last knew him.

“I better go search.” He patted his pockets, looked over the bench, and then ducked into the laundry room. When he emerged, he walked to the front door.

I followed, and we both turned to each other at the same time, emitting a startled chuckle from me. I placed my hand over my chest. “Thanks for everything. It’s good to see you back, Rick.” I leaned up to kiss him, and he stooped to my cheek, pecking it so lightly, only the bristle of his stubble grazed my skin.

He jogged down the front steps, unlocked his car, and was about to jump into it when he looked up at me, this big, lost expression on his handsome face. “See ya,” he called. And then he hopped in and drove.

At least he said goodbye, but the whole night had left me shaken.

 

• • •

Read the first 3 Chapters on Wattpad (free, no sign up required):

 http://www.wattpad.com/66159659-the-rental

 

About the Author

Rebecca Berto - author photo - June 2013

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction. 

Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their pets.

Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Blog/website | Pinterest

 

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Categories : Cover Reveal, Erotic Romance Tagged : Cover Reveal, Excerpt, Rebecca Berto, The Rental

BEING KALLI by REBECCA BERTO ~ SNEAK PEEK

December 1, 2013

We are excited to share a sneak peek into BEING KALLI by Rebecca Berto with the Prologue and first chapter! The book releases on December 9, 2013. Enjoy!

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Add to Goodreads

Synopsis:

Kalli Perkins makes it a habit of shutting her mouth, except to please a guy. She would say she goes off like a starved animal in bed, but Kalli doesn’t have sex in beds. She does it in hallways, in parks, in parties. She comes as a package deal.

Great sex. No strings attached. Never alone together; always in public.

One night at a party, Kalli makes a bet with her friend, Nate, that could change everything. But she didn’t count on him. Nate’s very capable of satisfying her, not only under her clothes, but in her heart, too.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

Recommended for mature readers due to explicit content. | This book is published in Australian English and includes relative diction.

Prologue

There are two things you should know about me:
One, I’m afraid of being alone with a guy.
Two, I’m certain I love my little brothers more than our mum does.
1

There are sweeping coloured lights patrolling the party, and a disco ball glittering over people swaying to the music, the pumping speakers, and the bar workers. It’s eleven on a Saturday and people are either drunk on alcohol or drunk from the wickedly mixed tracks, courtesy of the DJ. It’s a decent party, but it never matters. I’m with my pick for the night.
Donovan Xander.
He’s hot, and I can appreciate a hot guy. Army buzz cut, almond coloured eyes, and arms that can sweep a girl clean off her feet and into his. Lucky for both of us, I don’t get swept off my feet by the likes of him—the type I hooked up with last weekend, or the one I made out with in the dorm hallway mid-week when all the normal people were sleeping. There’s something about my disinterest at impressing a guy that interests them.
But Donovan, he’s just like the rest. This one pulled my thighs onto his and I bent my knees back, settling onto his crotch, which grew a groan from him. When he starts talking too much I tell him I get called Kalli and not Kallisto. He starts layering me with kisses along my mouth and down my neck instead.
“That’s real good,” he mumbles, nibbling on me.
I don’t know if he means my name or the sweet spot at my neck because he’s been sucking my skin between his lips for these last five minutes on and off. And, yes, it’s been five minutes, because I’ve counted.
“But why ‘Kalli’?” Donovan asks when he parts with my skin for air.
“Because she was high at the time,” I answer.
Leaning in, I taste him back and suck on a spot. Unfortunately for me, Donovan has chosen to drown this part, just under the protrusion of his jaw, with a full bottle of aftershave, but I have too much pride and even more secrets to continue with the conversation. So I suck his skin in and around my tongue and fight the urge to pull away.
“Your mother?”
I’m not stupid; I hear the incredulous tone to his voice. Everyone has it. You expect trash when my usual dress code is, a) skirt or shorts at least three inches above my knee, and b) at least my cleavage, arms or the bony bits of my hips exposed. But even slummers have standards and people expect a mother to stay away from a glass of wine, let alone illicit drugs, when pregnant.
Mine thought naming me after astrology was awesome.
“Am I fine to continue sucking on your body, or do you want a history lesson?”
To explain what I mean, I lick a trail from a spot under his ear to the V of the neckline of his T-shirt. He understands, clearly. Or at least his dick does. It springs up against his jeans, which pushes at my inner thigh. I shift, so if his jeans and my G-string weren’t there, he’d be cradled between me.
Donovan doesn’t reply this time. He wraps his arms around me, dropping his hands to the small of my back. There, he reaches the tip of my long hair, and he tugs slightly. Soon, his hands dip inside the strap of my G and he groans when he realises how very small the material is.
We make out for another few minutes and this time I do lose count. I usually count when I kiss guys. Scout’s the only girl I’ve ever kissed, but it’s always for fun when we are holding hands and stumbling around parties drunk, looking out for each other the whole night. I don’t count with her. It never usually goes long enough.
My G is sliding between Donovan and I, and I have to wonder if my wetness is on his pants. Probably. I couldn’t care less. I’ve seen Donovan around campus and parties; we frequent the same circles, no doubt, but I’ve never spoken more than a handful of words with him before tonight. Probably won’t again.
It’s now, as I begin to get into this make-out session on our couch, that Donovan shatters everything and replaces my excitement with a pounding sense of dread, one I’ve always felt since I was a kid and a guy asked to be alone with me: sex or no sex involved.
He breathes into my lips between kisses, “Come back to my room.”
“I can’t.” I say it firmly, forcing us apart with my hands against his chest. I catch my breath before I bite my lip and lick it, ready to pounce on him again.
“Kalli, don’t worry.” He places a hand on my shoulder, which instead of the calming gesture he intended, sends me jerking back to my feet and fixing my mini skirt straight. “Kalli, really. I can sneak you in, no worries about anyone finding out, if you’re uptight about that.”
I sigh. He’s worried about me getting caught, worsening my reputation, possibly even jeopardising my university life.
Thank God he didn’t sense my real fear.
“I can’t afford it,” I say, “school is everything.”
It’s true, partly. I need a job that’ll pay me enough to move out with my little brothers, Seth and Tristan. Their rich-ass father can’t handle them for more than a weekend every other week, and our mum isn’t mentally there for them either.
“Hey, Kalli, you were so chill before. Heck, we were practically fucking in public just then. You were the one who threw me on the couch. What’s wrong with my room?”
He makes a point, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve always sucked at folding to peer pressure, but I’m not about to face my fears for practically a stranger. I’m not one of those girls.
“Okay, well I’m telling you now. I don’t want to go back to your room.”
Donovan’s look ices over for a moment. In that moment, he isn’t the hot, flirty guy I picked out tonight. His look is white-hot fury turning as quickly as your fingertips burn the moment they meet scalding water. But just as soon as it happened, it’s like the wind blows and I imagined his expression change. Maybe I did. I’ve had enough jelly shots to believe the bronze horse statue at our university is a unicorn.
“You’re telling me you’d rather have sex right here—” He sweeps his hands out to the drunken, messy party students also grinding their hips to people and the music, and then finally to the couch against the side of the wall. “—in front of everyone?”
People like Donovan? He’ll think I’m kidding when I say this, but I’m absolutely not. “Oh, yeah.” I lean down to his eye level, which means my ass cheeks are surely out for the world to see from behind. I whisper near his ear, “I’ve been thinking of unzipping you and sliding right on top since the moment I picked you out across the floor.”
He is shocked when I say that. For some reason, lots of people have a combination of wide eyes, slack jaw and incessant blinks when I open my mouth. Then he waggles his finger at me and chuckles.
“Good one, Kalli.” He rights himself, stands and pulls at my hand to follow.
I tug back. “I’m serious. This doesn’t go further than here.”
“What the? We can’t do it here!”
“Says who?”
He eats that one right up. After a confused moment, he says, “Just because.”
“You too shy?” I say. “Or afraid? Embarrassed?”
My spiel works. He’s now only focused on defending himself. My life works a helluva lot better when the world doesn’t know my problems.
“You’re fucked. You know that?”
I pout my lips and smile with a satisfied look.
“Bitch, you’re fucking crazy.” He shakes his head, tossing away any possibility of sex between us. “Crazy,” he mutters as he stalks off.
“I think you’re hiding a girlfriend,” I call out, my last-shot win.
He stops a couple of metres away, grins and points to his ring finger to associate a lover. Then he gives me an I-used-you look. I gotta give him that; he did defend his own pretty well.
I should feel guilty he has a girl waiting for him somewhere, but from my fifteen-minute impression he’s just as likely to have lied as told the truth.
As soon as I have my own space the party is quiet. The vibrations pulsing from the floor and to my chest are mere murmurs. Alone and solitary, it’s like I’m in an invisible cube, like the ones just before the Hunger Games begin, but I feel them, and no one else notices. People grind against humans and objects, giggling up to the ceiling, girls fixing their hair, the DJ punching the air as everyone jumps and shrieks in pleasure.
But not me.
I’m here and desolated.
I try to imagine Donovan’s dark room, only moonlight highlighting a strip through the curtains. Half-empty cans of soft drink are all over his bedside table. A musty smell is in the air, typical of dorm rooms with boys in them.
Hard as I try, I can’t imagine that. I see a younger image of me sitting on my bed with my legs trembling so much my knees knock, a washed-out version of my vitality. Staring. On the other side of my bedroom my three-quarter-size violin is in its case.
I haven’t had that one for nine years.
The alcohol effect has drained, and I can think as clearly now as when I came here sober. I kick the couch with my stiletto and mutter to God Christ Almighty how much it kills.
Funny how little things can work a great distraction. My stubbed toe hurts so much I don’t see that old violin I would stare at from my bed after those nights.
And that makes everything better.

• • •

I find myself walking in circles. Walking to the bar, then away to the toilets because I can’t pick a drink. Touching the same side of my face and turning it into the light and seeing my makeup is still fine, then back to the couch where I mentally shudder and return to the bar. I have friends I could see here, but I prefer hanging with my closest ones. Scout will be hooking up with some guy or girl and Nate will have some girl in his lap, too.
Just my luck to fuck up the night.
It’s too late to find someone new. I tell myself that’s because of the time, and not because I’m too tired, too wound up.
During my search I find a plastic bucket, bottles and ice clinking. The only thing remotely desirable is a blue-coloured vodka mix, and I settle to scull that.
As I wobble-dance by myself to this David Guetta remix, someone slaps my ass. I wind my fist back to launch one in this slimebag’s face until I see his brown hair. It still looks perfect and windswept, as if blown that way and hairsprayed in place. In reality, he only spends as long on his hair as he takes to down a shot.
His pale eyes are electrifying in the darkness, and I notice, even though its dark save for the glittering lights bouncing from the disco ball, he fills out a shirt well.
He gives me a smirk and kisses my cheek. “Kall Bell.”
“Nate, I swear …”
I look at his hand. He’s holding two shot glasses filled with clear liquid.
“This place just has stupid vodka and beer.” I hold up my candy-looking water in its bottle.
“Not for me, Kall Bell.”
“May I?”
He thrusts a shot my way. I hate rum even more than vodka, so he wouldn’t be stupid enough to give me that. I say as much.
“Trust me.”
He’s off his head too. He looks dreamy tonight and seems to sway. I look down to my off-the-shoulder top where it’s slipped far enough to hint at cleavage. Nate has seen this too, clearly. Nate, unlike me, is shy. He won’t tell me when he’s in the mood to hook up or just hang out, so I have to read him. Him unashamedly staring at my body is my hint.
I dip my tongue seductively in the shot. Tequila.
“Nate!” I squeal. He did good.
He gives me a click of his tongue and nudges his head over near the bar. There is a bowl of ready-sliced lemons and someone has left the salt out too. I lick between my thumb and finger knuckles in anticipation. He passes me a slice and grinds the salt onto the bit of skin between my thumb and finger, then does the same for him.
We down that shot and as soon as I’m done squinting and shaking away the kick of the burn in my throat, I make us another round.
“Where’s Scout?”
“She’s hooking up with some four-foot-nothing girl.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Even in heels.”
We shit-talk for probably half an hour. It’s only when we stop that I’ve realised this fact. With Nate studying photography at uni and Vain Kalli out to play, I ask him if I’m pretty enough to model for him. He tells me it’s about having the right body shape, to which I reach to his thigh and pinch him through his khaki shorts. He tenses and grunts at the same time, and I even hear a long, breathy exhale from his flared nostrils. I think. I’m definitely some version of drunk, and this leads from me pouting about his backhanded compliment that I may or may not have the right body, to his sidestepping of my “pretty” hint, to a conversation about degrees of drunkenness. We begin at knee level and decide that’s when you can feel your teeth and act bold but not weird. We work our way up. This varies in degrees until hammered—a step before passed out—where we agree on slurring, talking to oneself, thinking oneself is damn awesome, falling all over other people, announcing abrupt conversation changes and more, until I ask him if he knows how mesmerising his hair is, and simultaneously fall forward and run my hands through it. He says he knows I’ve been thinking this because I apparently have been talking to his hair most of the time I’ve been sitting here, but being drunk as well, he doesn’t pull me away but cups my waist and rubs from the front to back, even up at the bottom of my ribs.
The moment I personified almost being “hammered” I knew how drunk I was, so I gesture outside and suggest for us to get some fresh air. Nate walks outdoors where freestanding gas heaters have been brought along and set up at random. We find one in a far corner of the pavement without anyone else seated at it. “She’s in a girly mood tonight.”
That’s Nate’s and my code for Scout’s hook-up tendencies, whether she’s into girls or guys at a party. Like me, Scout is straight, but unlike me she hooks up with anyone hot. I can’t usually bring myself to kiss another girl, so I don’t know why I can do it with her. She’s the only constant in my life, and we’ve done everything from change in the same room to cry ugly tears about the usual assignments together. So, when we’re drunk we kiss and it makes me feel—just for that moment—that someone loves me enough to be with me and stick around for the rest of my life.
“Oh,” Nate says, remembering something, “back on the dance floor you were pissed off about my ass slapping? You love when I slap your ass.”
“Just—” I sigh. “You know that Donovan Xander guy at uni?” Nate nods. “Spoke more than a handful of words to him, finally, and he wanted to take me to his room.” I explain our couch adventures, too.
Nate nods and looks down.
I get it, I do. It’s awkward talking about my issues. Say the wrong thing and I blow up, and I don’t even mean to. Nate can grill me about almost anything but that.
He tips his head back and sculls the rest of his drink. He sets his hands on his thighs—those glorious muscles that look like they want to rip out of those khaki shorts.
He says, “If I had to fuck you, Kall Bell, I’d be proud to do you on the couch.”
“Aw,” I sigh dramatically. “What a compliment.”
“Really.”
He reaches for either side of my chair and drags it so close I have to open my knees so our legs scissor together. This close I can smell his scent. I lean in to his chest and pull down the collar. His theory on spraying cologne is great. When I kiss Nate’s neck I don’t lick a tongueful of putrid cologne, like I did with Donovan. I taste his scent. Nate sprays a little lower, just at the top of his chest.
“I love when you wear Calvin Klein.”
He works his jaw and it’s so damn distracting I can’t tell what part of my body he’s staring at, until he takes my gaze. Then I know. Me, and just me.
“Well if you want to have sex with me just say the word.”
“Word,” I say, as quick as I can.
“Not tonight,” he mumbles so low I can barely hear above the thumping music and ridiculous squealing girls.
“Why?”
I admit, I haven’t done more than make out with Nate for one specific reason. I like guys, and Nate is one of the damn finest specimens of male there ever was. He’s the guy you dream of when you picture your perfect boyfriend, body and mind. All his exes say that, usually after they’ve dumped him for someone newer or richer. He just cares so much. He’s a lover, not a fucker, and I can’t risk ruining our little threesome friendship group, him, Scout and I. They’re my world.
“This is my fifth can.”
“Oh.”
“And,” he adds, “that was my third tequila shot.”
I burst out laughing. Alcohol really makes me too bold. “You can’t get it up.”
“Well …”
“I can make you.”
Even with my shit for brains when it comes to being sensible I can’t stop this time, unlike how Nate and I both usually know where to back off when we’re making out. I haven’t even begun that and I’m quivering with the need to jump his bones. I’m not the type to allow myself to look weak, but I hate what Donovan did to me before, to let those stupid thoughts from years ago control me. They won’t. I won’t allow it to take over me again.
Nate rolls the empty can to the side and presses his lips into a line, looking serious. He’s trying really hard not to laugh.
“I’m a guy. I know how my body works. You girls think it’s some robot worked by a remote. Seriously, I’m so horny with you in that skirt and still can’t get it to do that.” He gestures to me from head to toe. “And even you, the hottest girl at this party, cannot change that fact.”
“I bet I can.”
Nate opens his mouth to banter back, but I get on my knees and shush him with a finger to his lips. He’s either shocked or turned on because I feel his breath shudder under the finger pressed to him.
I trail that finger down his chest and then reach under his shirt to rake my nails down his chest. He shudders twice in the span from his pecs to his pants line.
I bite my lip and wink, a silent promise I’ll win. Looking around, we’re cut off by enough darkness and space from other clumps of people chatting or lazing around, but still, it’s risky. I nudge him back into a shadow and he drags the chair back a few feet. We’re still not completely out of sight. And I love that thrill of power.
Nate settles into the chair, eyeing me, waiting for my next move. I settle back on my heels, thrusting his knees apart to sit inside the gap. I know he likes naughty, so while I get his shorts undone I mouth fuck you, grinning at his lips. All he does is look through me, in some trance or dream, fluttering his eyelids and unconsciously thrusting his hips at my fingers undoing his pants. When I open his fly, his almost-fully-erect cock is painfully obvious. I want it so bad it hurts waiting to pull it over the elastic.
Holding his gaze, I stick my finger in my mouth and suck it. I trail my finger, wet with my saliva, down the length of him, and what do you know? He springs to full length, although he was damn close before. I cover his cock with my mouth and tug a couple of times with my lips, and then circle him with my tongue.
I feel his hands on either side of my head, and before I start I look up at him through my hair, with him still occupying my mouth. I do it because I know it looks slutty and that it’s exactly what Nate is turned on by.
I’ve known Nate for too many years, and I know many things about how he thinks, but he sums this up pretty well. “Fuck, Kalli.”
He sits there with his trembling thighs touching the sides of my arms and his hands trying to push through his drunken state to find my head and pat me lovingly or push me down, or something that will show how excited he is.
And then I plunge down. I deep throat his length. There’s enough quiet to hear a soft sound, so I take him as far as I can go and make a gagging noise. I know my gag reflex won’t actually work, so I gag myself again, both times receiving the prize of Nate shuddering in a breath and moaning.
“Don’t,” he warns.
“It’s okay,” I say, “I can’t stop fucking you with my mouth, not even to breathe properly.”
To that he shuts up. I get off even more when I hear the track change and people cheer, knowing we’re doing this so close to getting caught.
When I first feel him pulsing beneath my tongue, I pull away. His frantic hands grab to find my head and push down to save the climax.
But I say, “Say it.”
He looks confused for a moment since this isn’t at all what’s on his mind, but then he remembers and replies, “You can. You can get me up drunk.”
At that I start again, and even in this state I make him pulsate, then blow in my mouth with a few sucks and tugs taking his length.

Author bio:
image

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.

Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

Author links:

Website
Berto Designs
Facebook
Twitter
Author Goodreads

Pinterest

Categories : Contemporary Romance, New Adult, Romance Tagged : Being Kalli, contemporary romance, Excerpt, New Adult, Rebecca Berto, Sneak Peek

PROMOTIONAL BLITZ, EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY – ENTWINE by REBECCA BERTO

November 27, 2013

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Entwine by Rebecca Berto
Publication date: November 25th 2013
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

Synopsis:

Sarah Langham’s life was the epitome of normal until her dad slept with another woman when she was sixteen. It ripped her family apart.

Twenty-two-year-old Sarah has it together, though.

Waiting at the train station to go home from her first day of her first proper job out of university, she spots a man.

He is an enigma to her. She’s drawn to him, with his square jaw; buzz of hair; and his tall, solid frame, seen under the contours of his business suit. And he’s been looking at her, too. Fate pulls them together that night on a whirlwind date, exceeding anything Sarah’s experienced before. He’s even more into her than she’s into him. Finally, she wants to trust a guy for the first time since she was sixteen.

But then they discover something.

Something that meant they were never two strangers at a train station.

And it threatens to tear their future apart before it, really, ever begins.

AUTHOR BIO:

Entwine author photo

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.

Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

Author Links:

Website/Author Goodreads/Facebook/Twitter

EXCERPT

When Sarah first came home her ears had a faint ring in them, and now, in the aching silence, they buzzed at her fiercely. Her first thought was Ah! Relative quiet for once. I’ll just sneak in and get my mobile phone. Now she wished her dad had been doing anything else, even playing that stupid rock ‘n’ roll music. She had a solution for that: plug in her Favourites playlist and turn the volume up.
She heard the first moan, whispering through the walls. She was drawn toward the sound in her parents’ bedroom; it was like the undeniable dread of watching someone being bullied from afar. It was being unsure how to make it stop.
But Sarah’s mum was out, and there was definitely two people making those sounds in there. For the first few moments, Sarah wondered if her mum had suddenly materialised here. Why else would her dad be moaning in sync with that female voice, and the bed legs be screeching in that way?
She remembered arriving into the silence that had encased her, replacing the throbbing sounds from the party she’d just been at, thinking it all seemed too quiet in here.
She was right.
Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. A sense of nothingness washed over her as she braced her palm to the wall outside her parents’ bedroom, narrowly preventing her wobbly legs from taking her down.
What should she do?
She willed her ears to block out what she heard, but she knew sticking her fingers in the holes wouldn’t help a bit. And her dad didn’t deserve to be the reason she harmed herself if she poked inside too hard.
Sarah wished she could run, but instead her feet stayed rooted against the wall, and she shivered at the choice she had to make. What would she do, tell her mum that she could hear the bed creaking against the frame, that her dad’s friend wasn’t trying to be quiet at all?
The sounds triggered a memory. She’d caught a weird text message when sitting at the kitchen bench, her playing with her dad’s phone, her mum still at work. Her dad had snapped his mobile phone from her fingers and told her to go to her room. Her shock back then debilitated her choice to tell her mum. Her voice didn’t work when she tried to speak, and her throat was tight even when she swallowed. Now, hearing what was happening behind the wall, she had no idea where to even begin.
Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth in case she sobbed loudly, forced her other hand to push her from the lure of the wall where she had been frozen, and to walk herself out the front door.
Back to that party. Back through the shadows of darkness and odd orbs of light, along the sidewalk, back to the noise and the alcohol, and the people trying to forget their responsibilities.

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Categories : Book Launch, Contemporary Romance, Giveaway, New Adult Tagged : Book Launch, contemporary romance, Entwine, Excerpt, Giveaway, New Adult, Promotional Tour, Rebecca Berto

BOOK REVIEW: PULLING ME UNDER by REBECCA BERTO

October 27, 2013

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Title: Pulling Me Under

Author: Rebecca Berto
Series: Pulling Me Under #1
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Suspense
Age Group: Adult
Cover Designed by: Berto Designs

Book description:

Paul was Katie’s rock for thirteen years, but then she watched him die.

By day, she is left with her daughter Ella’s questions about where Daddy went, and at night she’s consumed with nightmares of the moment he died. It isn’t long before Katie’s mother hints that her volatile lifestyle and developing drinking habits are no way to raise a little girl.

Through it all, her and Paul’s best friend, Liam is there. Grieving the death of both husband and friend, the time they spend together seems more intimate these days, and Katie soon stumbles into taboo territory: Liam might be in love with her.

Torn between Liam’s feelings and losing Ella, one night Katie runs.

Air. Space. Thinking time. That’s what she thinks she’s getting when she stumbles upon that party. In the morning, in a strange bed, she can’t remember the night before.

Pulling Me Under is raw in its brutality of love and pain, with slow-building suspense to a heart-stopping conclusion.

♥♥♥

Cathy’s Review:

After the trauma of finding her husband’s body on her bedroom floor, Katie is so consumed with grief that she self-medicates with drugs and alcohol. She also blames herself for her husband’s death. Gradually her life spins out of control, and she has a hard time separating reality from her nightmares. She pushes everyone away, including her young child Ella.

A bad decision at a party leads to a traumatic event, and Katie’s friends try to intervene but Katie makes it very difficult for them to help her.

What I liked about the book: Rebecca Berto did a good job in writing about Katie’s inner thoughts and struggles. I did get a little confused at some points during the story, however, and found it a little difficult to feel a connection between some of the characters.

The ending did come as a surprise, and was very well done! Overall, the story was very emotional, and described issues that readers can relate to. I am looking forward to reading more from Rebecca Berto!



Buy the book:


AMAZON

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Download the prequel novella, Precise, for FREE!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks |
♥♥♥

About the Author

 photo RebeccaBerto.jpg

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.
Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

Author links:

Website/blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Newsletter mailing list |

EXCERPT 2

 photo PullingMeUnder-RebeccaBerto-lowerres.jpg


Title: Pulling Me Under

Author: Rebecca Berto
Series: Pulling Me Under #1
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Suspense
Age Group: Adult
Cover Designed by: Berto Designs

Book description:

Paul was Katie’s rock for thirteen years, but then she watched him die.

By day, she is left with her daughter Ella’s questions about where Daddy went, and at night she’s consumed with nightmares of the moment he died. It isn’t long before Katie’s mother hints that her volatile lifestyle and developing drinking habits are no way to raise a little girl.

Through it all, her and Paul’s best friend, Liam is there. Grieving the death of both husband and friend, the time they spend together seems more intimate these days, and Katie soon stumbles into taboo territory: Liam might be in love with her.

Torn between Liam’s feelings and losing Ella, one night Katie runs.

Air. Space. Thinking time. That’s what she thinks she’s getting when she stumbles upon that party. In the morning, in a strange bed, she can’t remember the night before.

Pulling Me Under is raw in its brutality of love and pain, with slow-building suspense to a heart-stopping conclusion.

♥♥♥

Excerpt!


I wake up in my bathtub.

Liam is by my side. His arms are tense from holding his weight over the rim. When he exhales, I suck in warm air. His air.

He sees me wake and falls back against the tiled wall behind him, lacing his fingers as a barrier between the wall and his head. Crunch. He doesn’t react when he hits the wall, as if his hands haven’t protected his skull. Not even a flinch.

Thankfully, his eyes are closed, which makes me feel less self-conscious. I mean, I don’t remember a period of time without him—my kinder years, primary, secondary school—but it’s easier to think without scrutiny.

I’m not sure how long it takes, but soon enough I see he’s wearing the blue hoodie. Did he really leave it here or did he put it on . . . to rub something in? His jeans are the worn ones, the ones where his knee pokes through one pant leg. Smirking, I notice he’s still wearing Ella’s Mickey Mouse watch. The one she insisted he use.

I try to form a memory but all I see are lined-up red plastic cups and me smashing them along a line with the ball of my heel. That’s all that comes to me. As I hit this memory, Liam opens his eyes. He’s breathing heavily, but what worries me are those blue eyes because they seem too wide. Those eyes have seen too much.

“Wha—” I clear my throat and taste something acidic, half-digested that makes my voice sound like a gurgle. I rinse out two cupfuls of water before I gulp down another two cupfuls. It’s only after the eagerness to wash out the vomit that I realize I have my boy shorts on and one of Paul’s business shirts.

And that’s it.

“What happened?” I say to Liam anyway, because I can’t very well ask “Why am I half-naked?” I’m lucky my body is thin enough to hide in this shirt. It would have been a different story otherwise.

He sits up and searches my face for a long time. His gaze is so still that a shiver runs down my spine. “Seems you had a party, you did.”

I’m suddenly self-conscious about my gaping shirt. I pull my ankles by my side and the ends of my shirt as tight around my chest as they will go. “Was this your idea?”
Liam points to my shirt—Paul’s shirt—and suppresses a scoff. “Nah, man. I came here at, ooh,” he checks his watch and clucks, “twelve-forty.”

“And I was . . . ”

“Well and truly partied out. I missed it all. I believe you were passed out and curled up with an empty Johnny Walker bottle.” He points over there. To Ella’s bed. Just as I guessed.

I allow myself to see through the bathroom door, trying to push through the pounding in my head. Ella’s bedroom has her ponies strewn everywhere, in a way she never leaves her precious toys.

The “why” of Liam’s presence occurs after I’ve looked away. I don’t want him seeing me look back to him. I’ve had enough shame for one day.

In Ella’s bedroom there’s the suspect Johnny Walker bottle on the floor. I clench my teeth, pushing away memories, pushing, pushing, until all I think about is running.
Looking at Paul in that picture with cascading curls is worse, though, so I refuse to look at the particular section of the wall. I can’t see happy. I took away happy and I want nothing to do with it now.

I concentrate on keeping my features blank so Liam can’t read any weaknesses. He’s about to suggest I hand Ella over to someone else to for a little while—I can sense it.

I remember that things changed about a week after what happened with Paul. The first week after a sudden, terrible death is open to all sorts of reactions, but for me there’s been a disconnect. The first week, I would stare right at something as plain as a glass, and thinking back now, I can recall from my fixture on that glass I didn’t even know I was doing it. I’d get asked what I was doing that morning and I’d think it was afternoon because, surely, I couldn’t feel that tired and ready to quit the day before midday. I didn’t even know I skipped meals because hours slipped away like soap in a shower, yet my body had never felt heavier to lug around than it did then, during the first week.

The first week has never ended for me.

There are “comforting” lines, like the Do you want to chat about it, Kates? that people repeat.

Well, what do I say to that? I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?

Then I can’t remember much.

What day is it?

What am I doing in my car?

Who am I?

I shouldn’t be surprised. I transformed from a kid, dependent on my mom and dad to being “Paul and Kates”.

Never have I been just me.



Buy the book:


[ENTER BUY LINKS HERE WHEN LIVE]

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Download the prequel novella, Precise, for FREE!

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♥♥♥

About the Author

 photo RebeccaBerto.jpg

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.
Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

Author links:

Website/blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Newsletter mailing list |

Categories : 4 Stars, Suspense, Women's Fiction Tagged : 4 stars, Pulling Me Under, Rebecca Berto, Suspense, Women's fiction

COVER REVEAL: ENTWINE by REBECCA BERTO

October 15, 2013

COVER REVEAL

A New Adult Contemporary Romance

 by Rebecca Berto

image

Cover by: Berto Designs

Releasing in late November 2013

 

Sarah Langham’s life was the epitome of normal until her dad slept with another woman when she was sixteen. It ripped her family apart.

Twenty-two-year-old Sarah has it together, though.

Waiting at the train station to go home from her first day of her first proper job out of university, she spots a man.

He is an enigma to her. She’s drawn to him, with his square jaw; buzz of hair; and his tall, solid frame, seen under the contours of his business suit. And he’s been looking at her, too. Fate pulls them together that night on a whirlwind date, exceeding anything Sarah’s experienced before. He’s even more into her than she’s into him. Finally, she wants to trust a guy for the first time since she was sixteen.

But then they discover something.

Something that meant they were never two strangers at a train station.

And it threatens to tear their future apart before it, really, ever begins.

 

 
 photo goodreads-badge-add-38px11_zps1ae6e47f.jpg

 

 

About the Author

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.

Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

 

Website/blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

 

 

 photo AToMRToursC66a-A00aT03a-Z_mdm_zpsa3cc6896.jpg

Categories : Contemporary Romance, Cover Reveal, New Adult, Romance Tagged : contemporary romance, Cover Reveal, Entwine, New Adult, Rebecca Berto, Romance

BOOK LAUNCH and EXCERPT: PULLING ME UNDER by REBECCA BERTO

October 13, 2013

 photo PullingMeUnder-RebeccaBerto-lowerres.jpg


Title: Pulling Me Under

Author: Rebecca Berto
Series: Pulling Me Under #1
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Suspense
Age Group: Adult
Cover Designed by: Berto Designs

Book description:

Paul was Katie’s rock for thirteen years, but then she watched him die.

By day, she is left with her daughter Ella’s questions about where Daddy went, and at night she’s consumed with nightmares of the moment he died. It isn’t long before Katie’s mother hints that her volatile lifestyle and developing drinking habits are no way to raise a little girl.

Through it all, her and Paul’s best friend, Liam is there. Grieving the death of both husband and friend, the time they spend together seems more intimate these days, and Katie soon stumbles into taboo territory: Liam might be in love with her.

Torn between Liam’s feelings and losing Ella, one night Katie runs.

Air. Space. Thinking time. That’s what she thinks she’s getting when she stumbles upon that party. In the morning, in a strange bed, she can’t remember the night before.

Pulling Me Under is raw in its brutality of love and pain, with slow-building suspense to a heart-stopping conclusion.

♥♥♥

Excerpt!


I wake up in my bathtub.

Liam is by my side. His arms are tense from holding his weight over the rim. When he exhales, I suck in warm air. His air.

He sees me wake and falls back against the tiled wall behind him, lacing his fingers as a barrier between the wall and his head. Crunch. He doesn’t react when he hits the wall, as if his hands haven’t protected his skull. Not even a flinch.

Thankfully, his eyes are closed, which makes me feel less self-conscious. I mean, I don’t remember a period of time without him—my kinder years, primary, secondary school—but it’s easier to think without scrutiny.

I’m not sure how long it takes, but soon enough I see he’s wearing the blue hoodie. Did he really leave it here or did he put it on . . . to rub something in? His jeans are the worn ones, the ones where his knee pokes through one pant leg. Smirking, I notice he’s still wearing Ella’s Mickey Mouse watch. The one she insisted he use.

I try to form a memory but all I see are lined-up red plastic cups and me smashing them along a line with the ball of my heel. That’s all that comes to me. As I hit this memory, Liam opens his eyes. He’s breathing heavily, but what worries me are those blue eyes because they seem too wide. Those eyes have seen too much.

“Wha—” I clear my throat and taste something acidic, half-digested that makes my voice sound like a gurgle. I rinse out two cupfuls of water before I gulp down another two cupfuls. It’s only after the eagerness to wash out the vomit that I realize I have my boy shorts on and one of Paul’s business shirts.

And that’s it.

“What happened?” I say to Liam anyway, because I can’t very well ask “Why am I half-naked?” I’m lucky my body is thin enough to hide in this shirt. It would have been a different story otherwise.

He sits up and searches my face for a long time. His gaze is so still that a shiver runs down my spine. “Seems you had a party, you did.”

I’m suddenly self-conscious about my gaping shirt. I pull my ankles by my side and the ends of my shirt as tight around my chest as they will go. “Was this your idea?”
Liam points to my shirt—Paul’s shirt—and suppresses a scoff. “Nah, man. I came here at, ooh,” he checks his watch and clucks, “twelve-forty.”

“And I was . . . ”

“Well and truly partied out. I missed it all. I believe you were passed out and curled up with an empty Johnny Walker bottle.” He points over there. To Ella’s bed. Just as I guessed.

I allow myself to see through the bathroom door, trying to push through the pounding in my head. Ella’s bedroom has her ponies strewn everywhere, in a way she never leaves her precious toys.

The “why” of Liam’s presence occurs after I’ve looked away. I don’t want him seeing me look back to him. I’ve had enough shame for one day.

In Ella’s bedroom there’s the suspect Johnny Walker bottle on the floor. I clench my teeth, pushing away memories, pushing, pushing, until all I think about is running.
Looking at Paul in that picture with cascading curls is worse, though, so I refuse to look at the particular section of the wall. I can’t see happy. I took away happy and I want nothing to do with it now.

I concentrate on keeping my features blank so Liam can’t read any weaknesses. He’s about to suggest I hand Ella over to someone else to for a little while—I can sense it.

I remember that things changed about a week after what happened with Paul. The first week after a sudden, terrible death is open to all sorts of reactions, but for me there’s been a disconnect. The first week, I would stare right at something as plain as a glass, and thinking back now, I can recall from my fixture on that glass I didn’t even know I was doing it. I’d get asked what I was doing that morning and I’d think it was afternoon because, surely, I couldn’t feel that tired and ready to quit the day before midday. I didn’t even know I skipped meals because hours slipped away like soap in a shower, yet my body had never felt heavier to lug around than it did then, during the first week.

The first week has never ended for me.

There are “comforting” lines, like the Do you want to chat about it, Kates? that people repeat.

Well, what do I say to that? I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?

Then I can’t remember much.

What day is it?

What am I doing in my car?

Who am I?

I shouldn’t be surprised. I transformed from a kid, dependent on my mom and dad to being “Paul and Kates”.

Never have I been just me.



Buy the book:


Amazon International

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

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Download the prequel novella, Precise, for FREE!

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About the Author

 photo RebeccaBerto.jpg

Rebecca Berto writes stories about love and relationships. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her books, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.
Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.

Author links:

Website/blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Newsletter mailing list |

Categories : Book Launch, Contemporary Romance, Romance Tagged : Book Launch, contemporary romance, Excerpt, Pulling Me Under, Rebecca Berto, Release Blitz

Categories

  • 2 Stars
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  • Action Romance
  • Adult
  • Adult Coloring Book
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  • Alpha male
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  • Angsty
  • Anthology
  • Audiobook
  • Author Interview
  • Author Signing
  • Autobiography
  • BDSM
  • BDSM – Dark and Angsty
  • Biker
  • Billionaire Romance
  • Biographical Fiction
  • Biography
  • Bisexual Romance
  • Blog Hop
  • Blog Tour
  • Book Blast
  • Book Blitz
  • Book Launch
  • Book Tour
  • Charity
  • College
  • College Romance
  • Coming of Age
  • Contemporary
  • Contemporary Erotic Romance
  • Contemporary Fiction
  • Contemporary Gay Romance
  • Contemporary Homoerotic Romance
  • Contemporary M/M Romance
  • Contemporary Queer Romance
  • Contemporary Romance
  • Contemporary Western Romance
  • Courtroom Drama
  • Cover Reveal
  • Cowboy Romance
  • Cozy Mystery
  • Crime
  • Crime Romance
  • Dark
  • Dark and Twisty
  • Dark Contemporary Romance
  • Dark Erotic Romance
  • Dark Erotica
  • Dark Humor
  • Dark Romance
  • Diverse
  • Domestic Fiction
  • Domestic Suspense
  • Domestic Thriller
  • Dominant
  • Dystopian
  • Enemies to Lovers
  • Erotic
  • Erotic Humor
  • Erotic Romance
  • Erotic Romantic Comedy
  • Erotic Suspense
  • Erotic Thriller
  • Erotica
  • Erotica/Sci-Fi
  • Events
  • Family Drama
  • Family Saga
  • Fantasy
  • Fashion
  • Feminism
  • Fiction
  • Fighter
  • Financial Thriller
  • Forbidden
  • Giveaway
  • Gothic
  • Gothic Romance
  • Guest Post
  • Hispanic American Literature
  • Historical Fiction
  • Historical Romance
  • Holiday Fiction
  • Holiday Romance
  • Horror
  • Horror Romance
  • Human Sexuality
  • Humor
  • Legal Thriller
  • Lesbian Romance
  • LGBQT Science Fiction
  • LGBT
  • LGBT Romance
  • LGBTQI
  • Literary Fiction
  • Literary Saga
  • M/m
  • M/M Contemporary Romance
  • Mafia Romance
  • Magical Realism
  • Mature YA/NA
  • MC Romance
  • Memoir
  • Ménage
  • Mental Health
  • Military Romance
  • MM Romance
  • MMA
  • Movie Star Romance
  • Multicultural Romance
  • Mystery
  • Mythology
  • Nature
  • New Adult
  • New Adult Contemporary
  • New Adult Contemporary Romance
  • New Adult Romance
  • New Adult Romantic Comedy
  • New Adult Romantic Suspense
  • New Release
  • Non-con
  • Non-Fiction
  • Novella
  • Office Romance
  • Organized Crime Thrillers
  • Own Voices
  • Paranormal
  • Paranormal Romance
  • Political Romance
  • Post-Apocalyptic
  • Prequel
  • Psychological
  • Psychological Thriller
  • Release Blitz
  • Reviews
  • Rock Star
  • Rock Star Romance
  • Rocker
  • Romance
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Romantic Erotica
  • Romantic Suspence
  • Romantic Suspense
  • Romantic Thriller
  • Romantic Women's Fiction
  • Satire
  • Sci-Fi Romance
  • Science Fiction
  • Second Chance
  • Second Chance Romance
  • Self-Help
  • Serial
  • Series
  • Shifter
  • Short Story
  • Single Dad
  • Slow Burn Romance
  • Small-town Romance
  • Speculative Fiction
  • Sports
  • Sports Romance
  • Sports-Hockey
  • Spotlight
  • Spotlight Tour
  • Standalone
  • Student-Teacher
  • Suspense
  • Taboo
  • Tattooed hero
  • Teaser
  • Teaser Tuesday
  • Thriller
  • Time Travel Romance
  • Trailer Reveal
  • Uncategorized
  • Urban Erotica
  • Waiting on Wednesday
  • Western Romance
  • Women's Fiction
  • Women's Studies
  • Young Adult
  • Young Adult Contemporary Romance
  • Young Adult Fantasy
  • Young Adult Fiction
  • Young Adult Romance
  • Young Adult Thriller
  • Young Adult Time Travel
  • Young Adult-New Adult

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