Hallen Jansen has it all. At 28, he has a flashy car, a great apartment, and a job he’s good at and that he loves – as an escort – working at your beck and call.
His life is easy, with no emotions or attachments slowing him down – choosing to keep moving, always running from the past. But when a new client awakens unfamiliar feelings, all bets are off. Can he convince a recently divorced woman twenty years older to trust men again – to trust him? Can Hallen trust himself not to screw things up?
Surrounded by people who choose to judge them, will they make their relationship a reality, or is it heartbreak for both?
Not all services are professional.
Hallen Jansen – He’ll make you scream his name, fulfill every fantasy you have, and have you begging for more, but that’s all you’ll get from him. You’ll never get to know the real Hallen; the one he hides away…the man behind the mask. He can be whoever or whatever you want him to be, but he’ll never be himself. He shut that part of himself off a long time ago, and as the years go on, he keeps losing a little piece of himself as he continues his role as a male escort. If you want to know the real Hallen, you’ll need to read the reasons behind his career choice…the reasons sex doesn’t mean much and love is never on his radar…the reasons he locks down his emotions and buries what he truly feels about his life choices. It’s Hallen’s story to tell, and although readers are his secondary audience because he writes it for the love of his life, we are still made to understand how and why Hallen became and was a male escort for the past eight years of his life.
If there’s one thing I always know going into one of Jane Harvey-Berrick’s books, it’s that I’m going to be given the complete story – all the ins and outs and the hows and whys. She’s a magnificent storyteller because she’s paints the complete picture; she takes her readers behind the scenes and gives an explanation for every statement…every action. As a reader, I’m not left wondering at characters’ choices because she’s taken me with them on their entire journey; she’s placed me in their psyche and allowed me to roam freely, understanding the nuances of their lives. They might not make complete sense to me, and they might be warped and destructive, but they’re real and honest because they come directly from them.
This is not your typical male escort story; yes, there’s sex and a litany of clients, but they’re there, in a way, as a catalogue of events that have shaped and defined Hallen. As he describes his childhood, college days, and the beginnings of his profession, it is detailed but, for the most part, emotionless, especially as the discussion progresses to the years he lost who he truly is as a person and becomes merely a product…a hot commodity. This is deliberate on Hallen’s part because he’s become almost desensitized to it all – that’s how he’s coped, but as a reader, I feel every hidden emotion. I mourn for the loss of the brilliant artist…the passionate man who allowed his emotions to be expressed in his paintings. He became a man who gave passion but received none…a man who could give pleasure at every turn but never felt pleasure for himself.
When his story takes a turn, and he begins to feel emotions for a woman for the first time in a long time, readers can feel his nervousness and hesitancy, and it makes complete sense. He’s been at paying women’s beck and call for eight years, and now that he wants to be more than just someone’s dirty little secret, he doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s easy to be with Laura; he can be himself with her, but she was a client, so she knows what he’s done for the past eight years. They both struggle with feelings of inadequacy – Hallen sees himself as damaged goods; he wants to think that he is not the sum of his past, but it’s hard when there are people around who constantly make him feel that way. Laura’s life fell apart when her husband cheated on her, divorced her, and married and had a child with his 22 year old secretary. Her insecurities are seared to her, and she doesn’t know how to get past them, especially when she doesn’t understand why Hallen chose her over everyone else.
This is where his story becomes their story. When things start to slowly unravel around them, Halen seeks solace in telling Laura his story, and that’s when readers get her voice and see it all unfold from her perspective. Besides Hallen’s past, one thing that keeps driving a wedge between Hallen and Laura is the fact that there’s a twenty year age difference – he’s 28; she’s 48. Age is just a number, but for someone who has already been left for a younger woman, it’s hard to see past that fact. Jane Harvey-Berrick’s ability to change point of views with ease is clearly shown as Laura shares her insights, insecurities, and anguish with readers. Just as we are meant to understand the reasons behind Hallen’s actions, Jane allows us inside Laura’s psyche, and while we might want to shake her for her fears and insecurities, we can’t deny that they’re her reality; she’s tormented by her husband’s infidelity and even though I think she knows Hallen is different, it’s going to take her time to come to terms with her past to feel free to explore a future with him.
At Your Beck & Call is an amazing story that explores the ideas of self worth, forgiveness, and redemption. Being an escort was Hallen’s profession, but it shouldn’t define him. It shouldn’t make him feel less of a man or less of a human being, and Jane Harvey-Berrick illustrates those messages magnificently.
A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.
5 poison apples
EXCERPT 1
“So, what other services do you offer, Hallen?”
How many times had I been asked that question? How many times had I answered it?
She laid her hand on my knee, her gaze sharp, questioning, lustful—and ashamed.
The light was not kind to her, emphasizing hard lines around her mouth, the overly tight skin of her forehead.
She should have chosen a bar with softer lighting. Candlelight hides a multitude of sins. Except my sins are all on the inside.
When I’d arrived at the designated restaurant earlier in the evening, she’d been careful to conceal her age. Maybe she thought I’d care. I didn’t. I gave my name to the hostess and asked her to let Ms. Mandelsohn know that I had arrived.
It was always interesting meeting a new client—a challenge, too—getting to know her, putting her at ease, helping her to feel comfortable, working out what she wanted from a date. She needed to feel safe with me, like I’d take care of her in all senses of the words. And talking is underrated as a method of foreplay. Clients often said they felt like they’d known me for years. Well, they knew the part I showed them, which wasn’t the same thing at all. But it was enough to let me fuck them.
They didn’t always want sex—or they said they didn’t. Once they’d met me, they often changed their minds.
EXCERPT 2
She joined me at the window, a large glass of Cognac in each hand. I accepted one and clinked it against hers.
“Santé!”
“Skål!”
She smiled and took a sip, her eyes thirsty and impatient.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, quietly.
“That it’s a long way down.”
She laughed, tension seeping around the edges of the sound. “I hope you’re not thinking of jumping to get away from me.”
I turned to look at her, deliberately running my eyes up and down her body. “No, I’m not thinking that.”
Her lips parted in a small gasp.
I took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the table with mine.
Belinda. Her name was Belinda.
“What do you like, Belinda?”
“Um, I…”
“You can tell me,” I said, as if we were sharing a secret. “Do you want me to touch you slowly?” I drifted my fingers down her arm, stroking her skin. “Or do you want me to take you hard?” I gripped her wrist in one hand and tipped her chin up with the other, so she was forced to look at me.
I saw her moisten her lips and swallow.
“Hard,” she whispered.
Yeah, that’s what I’d guessed. You learned to read people—women—in this job.
She licked her lips again and tottered forward, her balance becoming uneven with an alchemy of alcohol and lust.
“Do you want me to take you at the window, baby? Press your beautiful breasts against the cold glass while I fuck you. Anyone looking up would know what a bad, bad girl you are. Anyone could see.”
She choked on a laugh and I could tell she was considering it. My guess was she’d go for the bed. Older women usually did.
EXCERPT 3
Have you ever wondered what money smells like? I mean real money. Not just a lot of money, but vats of money, swimming pools of money, whole oceans of money. It smells of sweat and sex, wrapped in silk.
That’s the scent that filled my lungs walking into the Casino de Monte Carlo.
The building was bathed in bright yellow lights, turning the white stucco into a shimmering facade. A marble fountain seemed to pour molten gold into the piscina at its base.
And the women. My God, the women. Birds of Paradise in gowns of every color, shade, texture and tone. You noticed the dresses first—the faces above were all the same—rich, privileged, aware.
“By the way, Emma, what’s it for?”
“What?”
“The fundraiser. Which charity is it for?”
“Christ! I don’t know!” she said, distracted by a blonde woman in skyscraper Laboutins. “Whales or tuna or goldfish or something! Who cares?”
I kept my mouth shut.
At the door, we were greeted by a well dressed staff member who knew both our names, and handed us each a $50,000 casino chip.
Fifty-thousand dollars!
Emma smiled, watching with vulpine amusement as I tried to cover up my astonished reaction.
“Enjoy!” she said, stroking my ass. “If you’re a good boy, there’ll be more where that came from.”
It must have been obvious who and what I was. I wouldn’t say I was oblivious to the barely hidden contempt from those who saw us together, but I’d learned to ignore it. The burn was a little less.
EXCERPT 4
She opened the door and hesitated, her eyes alight with humor, lust and something darker.
“I want two orgasms,” she stated, matter of fact, “or I want my money back. And I have to tell you—I am not multi-orgasmic.”
She folded her arms.
“You sure about that?”
“Very.”
I leaned against the doorpost. “Guess I’m going home then.”
Her face fell, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“You are such a tease!” she snorted.
I closed the door behind me. “That’s the idea.”
“You have one hour,” she insisted.
“Are you timing me?” I joked.
“Um, no, it’s all I can afford,” she muttered, fiddling with her purse.
I immediately felt like shit, and she must have seen it because she shrugged apologetically.
“One hour,” I said. “Time me.”
At that point I didn’t really care whether she got her money back or not. I’d already earned half of $1600 for the evening so I had nothing to lose. And she’d issued a challenge.
I shrugged out of my jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. Slowly, I bent down to untie my shoes and pull off my socks. I caught her eye as I glanced up.
“Did you want me to leave my socks on?”
“Um, no!” Then she realized I was teasing her again. “Hallen!”
“Anything else I should know about your preferences? You know, apart from your sock fetish?”
Her laugh turned into a breathy sigh as I walked toward her.
“That’s a pretty dress, Audrey. I think it should come off—it would be a shame to spoil it.”
I started writing contemporary romance two years ago. Before that, I didn’t think I could write a sex scene. Turns out I can!
My lucky number is 13 because I was born on the 13th and live near a haunted castle by the ocean. My number one past-time is watching hot surfers get changed into (and out of) their wetsuits.
My husband doesn’t read my books. My mother does.
Writing is my love, my hobby, my total addiction. All my characters are important to me and whisper their stories, even when I’ve finished writing their books. That’s why you’ll often find bonus chapters/out-takes from various books, because those voices just won’t be quiet.
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Fairest Of All Book Reviews 
Thank you so much for your amazing, heartfelt review. I loved everything you wrote — so happy that you saw everything I was trying to say! THANK YOU 🙂 jx
Love your review ladies, thanks
Great review, great book, great Author. As a reader, I couldn’t really ask for more. 🙂