Meet Trick Roth in this roller coaster ride
of angst, suspense, & scorching hot HEAT?!
NOW AVAILABLE
Blurb
“Don’t
Look Back in Anger”
In one
night, I lost five years of my life. Here’s what I know …
I was
homeless.
I’m a
recovering drug addict.
My inked
skin crawls from lustful eyes.
I have a
serious aversion to women.
My gay
partner is a home wrecker.
I own a
gun and I’m a damn good shot.
I’m a
makeup artist, but it’s an insult to my talent.
I’ve
never wanted to possess anything except my Ducati … until I met Darby.
Now
here’s what I know since that day in the ER when she pieced me back together …
nothing—but a few random thoughts.
My new
“friend” is distracting, clingy, and obsessed with acronyms, emojis, and
phrases like “breakfast soul mates.”
I didn’t
want to like her, but she crawled under my skin and swallowed me whole. Now
we’re best friends and she’s my new addiction. I'd drink her from a shot glass,
snort her up my nose, or inject her into my veins if I could. What I won’t do …
is ever tell her that.
She
doesn’t know me … I don’t know me. When those missing years come back, I think
she will hate me … I think I will hate me.
My
parents named me Patrick Roth, and this is my story.
Excerpt #1
“He’s a
makeup artist Gemmie recommended. But he has not, nor ever will be ‘throwing
his hat into the ring.’”
“Married?”
She grins as if the thought of me being someone’s mistress pleases her. It’s
possible all my living relatives are a bit twisted.
I shake
my head and smirk. “No, Nana, he’s not married. He’s … gay.”
She
throws her head back and slaps her hand against her chest in a fit of laughter.
“Oh my goodness!”
“Why is
his sexual preference so hysterical?”
“Oh
dear…” she wipes the corners of her eyes “…it’s just you have the worst luck in
love. When did you find out?”
I reach
over and grab a tissue from the sofa table and hand it to her, rolling my eyes.
Then I proceed to tell her everything, not leaving out one single
detail—including my magnetic attraction to him that shouldn’t be sexual but is.
“Well,
dear, you’ve hit the jackpot.”
“What?
How have you come to that conclusion from everything I’ve told you?”
“A guy
friend who’s gay? I hear they’re every girl’s dream. Except, from the sounds of
things, Trick needs to gay up a little more and stop confusing unsuspecting
women.”
“Gay up?
Who are you?”
She snaps
her wrist at me. “I read the tabloids you know.”
“Yeah?
Well then you should know that gay doesn’t have a look.”
“That’s
the problem. You used to be able to tell by the ear piercing—right for gay left
for straight. Or is it the other way around? Anyway, these days everything gets
pierced and so it becomes terribly confusing.”
Nana
provides nonstop entertainment, and every time I come by to see her I chastise
myself for not doing it more often.
“We’re
friends, period. And maybe you’re right. If he would ‘gay up’ a little more I
might feel the jackpot effect.”
“Yes,
shopping, hair, makeup, and chick flicks without competing hormones or
competing for the same men.”
“Or
wishing he weren’t gay,” I whisper to myself.
She tilts
her head to the side, giving me a soft, sympathetic smile. “Or that too, dear.”
Excerpt #2
“Ahh!” I
scream as the closet door opens. My heart explodes and I nearly wet myself. I
shuffle my feet against the floor, scooting as far in the corner as I can,
hugging my knees to my chest.
“Come.”
I shake
my head, holding my breath.
His lip
twitches. Then, with what can only be described as a scene from a horror movie,
he grabs my ankles and drags … he fucking drags
me out of the closet. “Trick!”
Hoisting
me over his shoulder, he smacks my ass so hard I yelp. “I’m thinking sofa.”
“Trick!
Stop!” I scream, kicking and flailing as he carries me downstairs. As I pound
my fists against his back, something catches my eyes. He has the ties to both
my satin and terrycloth robes partially tucked into the waistband of his shorts
along with one of his belts.
OH SHIT!
He sets
me down with my ass backed up to the sofa, my chest heaving, eyes wide.
“Do you
love me?”
I swallow
and nod.
“Do you
trust me?”
My gaze
falters.
“Darby?”
He lifts my chin with his finger.
“Do. You.
Trust. Me?”
Another
swallow, another nod.
“Good.”
He lifts my yoga top over my head, wetting his lips as he stares at my breasts.
Then he pulls down my pants, leaving me naked. His lips skim up my legs,
stopping at my sex, but all he does is just breathe out causing my legs to
pinch closer together. Then he inhales. Standing, he watches me—daring me to
run again.
About the
Author:
Jewel E Ann
Jewel is a free-spirited
romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing
lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene
career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of
nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre,
Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more,
she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her
cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends,
good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your
Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching
novels.
Custom design Timbuk2 bag and signed paperbacks of the
Holding You Series, Undeniably You, and Idle Bloom - all to ONE winner
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