What Lovers Do Signed Paperback + Free Swag
What Lovers Do Signed Paperback + Free Swag
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 2.348+ 5-Star Reviews
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From bestselling author Jewel E. Ann comes a hilarious secret lovers story that redefines the meaning of friendship.
Shep’s found the female version of himself … and he thinks she’s perfect—perfectly unavailable.
Everyone loves Shep, the charismatic employee at Scottsdale’s newest pet store. He has shared custody of his two dogs with his annoying ex-wife and a smile that can disarm most women.
Except … Dr. Sophie Ryan.
What starts out as a disastrous first meeting, involving a coffee catastrophe and mistaken flirting, turns into an unconventional friendship.
Fake phone sex.
Dog park dates.
And eighteen holes of golf.
The problem? Sophie’s taken herself out of the dating pool for a mysterious reason, imprisoning Shep in the friend zone for eternity.
As their competitive personalities hit a boiling point, the gloves come off and so do their clothes. When Sophie’s “real” life threatens their relationship, can Shep let go of his past to chase the one that might get away?
Chapter One Look Inside
Chapter One Look Inside
The neighbors called 9-1-1. They thought my dad whacked off my finger with the weed eater because of my blood-curdling scream coupled with the dripping crimson from my hand. Minutes later, an officer arrived at our house only to discover an injured garter snake. I called him Hercules, the snake not the officer. We kept him in a plastic container with newspapers on the bottom, small holes in the lid, a dish of water, and a steady diet of guppies and earthworms.
He recovered weeks later, and we released him back into the wild. Dad promised to be more careful when using the mower and weed eater. Hercules wasn’t the first snake I rescued, but to this day, I believe he was the most grateful one.
“I’m running down to CVS to get some condoms.” Jimmy shoves his bare feet into his grungy white high-tops while rifling through my handbag.
His shoes should be burned. When he removes them, the repulsive blackened insoles exude an odor akin to meat that’s been left on the counter for three days. He lost his job two months ago, and now he showers every three to four days.
“For what?” I ask, my last nerve frayed and inflamed. By this point, I think he could sneeze and I’d likely stab him fifty times with the butcher knife—the one he got me for my birthday. I can already hear the prosecution making their case and including that little nugget of information.
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