Real

Realreal

By: Katy Evans

1 ½  “Semen Finger-painting” Stars

Genre: Sports Romance Trainwreck

Cliffhanger: Kinda.

Price: $7.99 on Kindle

Wine in my Mug: Homemade Sangria

Recommendation: Not REALly. (See what I did there?)

God. Where do I begin? I haunt the GoodReads book lists to find books that I wouldn’t otherwise know about. On GoodReads, I have found some really good ones but then there are some highly reviewed ones that have me scratching my head and wondering how in the hell did that particular book achieve a top spot. This book is one of them.

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I started to read this one in my typical default setting, low to no expectations, and it didn’t take me long to see that me and Ms. Katy Evans were not going to be friends. I understand when you are a DIY author that a lot of the editing has to be done solely by you but damn…are you telling me this author had no friend at all to beta read for her? Basic grammatical errors, misspelled words, and weird, stilted dialogue plagued this book.

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BUT WAIT THIS WAS PUBLISHED BY AN ACTUAL PUBLISHER? No excuses. I don’t know who I want to hate the most, the publisher that put this awkward mess out there or the author who sent out sloppy work. And for $7.99? I’ve read $0.99 novels on my Kindle that was more cohesive than this. It is really too bad because the actual story line was kinda interesting.

You can’t throw a rock without knocking over at least a hundred of these underground fighter romance novels out there in the Amazon store. They are a dime-a-dozen so authors try to put a spin on their story to set it apart from the rest. Some do it well, and others create a weird chimera-like frankenbook that has no place being put out there. This story sets itself apart from the others with a H battling not only his opponents but a debilitating mental illness. *SPOILERS AHEAD*

Remington “Riptide” Tate is bi-polar. That is something I am very familiar with. My mother has suffered from this for as long as I can remember and though she is a wonderful woman who raised my two sisters and I by herself, my childhood was practically littered with moments that I can list when her illness affected us all. She had a pretty traumatic childhood herself, which may have triggered a great deal of her issues, but there was one thing I remember the most about living with her. When she was off her meds, steer clear of her.

There was no amount of healthy eating, exercise, therapy, and meditation that could keep her level when she was off them. When she was having manic episodes, it was scary and more than often I was at the receiving end of some kind of corporal punishment for “offenses” so stupidly minor I wouldn’t even comment on them if my own kids did it. (And I am a pretty strict mommy)

My mother is a large lady, but in no means a muscle bound MMA fighter, so most of the book I was pretty frightened for the safety of the h when Remy was having his manic mood swings. He needed to be on medication. Period. He was not in control of his illness and if anything fighting seemed to make it even worse. If I was Brooke (the h), the first time I learned that he was an unmedicated, bi-polar, walking time bomb I would have been all ass and elbows.

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What I have learned over the years dealing with someone with mental health issues is this, you can not fix them. That is something that they have to do for themselves. You can be there for them but to enable them when they are spiraling isn’t going to help anyone. It just leads to a whole lot of drama and hurt. If Brooke really cared and wanted to be a part of his life then she should have gave him what he needed. The truth. Take medication.

Even without that piece of nonsense, there was way too many moments where I found myself grossed out, cringing, confused, or a combination of both in regards to not only the dialogue but the actions of the characters.

Seizing his hand, I squeeze it in between our bodies so he can feel all of what he smeared me with across my abdomen.

“It means I’m going French this week and not showering so I can smell you on me.”

“When he slides his sweatpants off, I’m fainting with the sight of ten Remington’s butts…”

His eyes glow in the shadows as he slides the soft liquid semen dripping down my thigh in a path leading back into my swollen entry, as if he doesn’t want to come out of my body.

“Sticky?” he asks in a gruff murmur, bending his head and licking my shoulder as he pushes his semen back inside with one finger.

Sometimes he washes his semen off my skin, but other times he gives me a series of slow, drugging kisses as he reaches between my thighs and fingers his semen back into my pussy like he always wants to be there.

“Do you like it when I smear your skin with me?”

God I love it when he calls his semen “him.”

I could go all day with these quotes. Whether Brooke is talking about her leaky, clenching, sexual organs (Yes I kept it plural just like the book did. SMH), how Remy licks her face and chest like a “lion”, or even the vivid depictions of how he uses her body like a paint-by-numbers canvas for his semen, there are many parts of this book that I wanted to just set it down. Things like that isn’t erotic. It isn’t sexy. It makes me feel itchy and shout at the h to go take a shower. I imagine she walks around all day smelling like a tuna fish sandwich and old sweaty gym socks.

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I’m not going to even address her idiotic sister’s plot line or even the side characters in this book all wrapped up and ready for their own day to feature in this series. The rest of the series is going to get a hard pass for me. I barely got through this one and then took a shower.

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