Only Trick

Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary
Cover of the book Only Trick by Jewel E. Ann, Jewel E. Ann
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Author: Jewel E. Ann ISBN: 9780996156400
Publisher: Jewel E. Ann Publication: April 13, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Jewel E. Ann
ISBN: 9780996156400
Publisher: Jewel E. Ann
Publication: April 13, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

“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.

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

“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.

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