About the Book:
Sex isn’t love.
Love isn’t sex.
And friendship is neither.
The son of a French Olympic skier and a Malaysian fashion designer, Ronin Alexander has lived the life of a nomad, traveling the world to find his next adventure.
Life takes a dramatic turn when he meets Evelyn, a beautiful scientist who owns a bath shop in Aspen, Colorado. They defy all the rules of relationships, falling hard and quickly in love.
Their world intertwines with Evelyn’s two best friends, the Governor and his soon-to-be wife. The four become close—very close.
When tragedy strikes, things from their pasts are unveiled—unimaginable truths and the grim realization that life will never be the same.
Jewel E. Ann steps into another dimension with this mind-bending thriller, a provocative story that pushes boundaries and tests the true meaning of love.
Graham flew to Vancouver three days earlier, so I had Lila all to myself for the flight and the drive to the hotel—Porter Suites. Imagine that.
“Baby!” Lila hurled herself into Graham’s arms as soon as he opened the door to the suite.
He winked at me over her shoulder.
“Graham Cracker.” I rolled my eyes.
After Lila rushed past him, he tipped the bellboy, watching him retreat toward the elevator for a few seconds before returning his attention to me. “So you don’t have to listen to her scream.” Graham handed me a keycard.
“Hmm … she’s never mentioned screaming. You must be referencing a movie, not actual events.” I plucked the keycard from his manicured fingers.
“I’m throwing my hat in the gubernatorial race next year. You realize you’ll have to address me with a little more respect when that happens.”
I brushed past Graham in his pinstriped suit, potent cologne, and over-gelled coal hair—parted perfectly on the side like the preppy guy he’d always been. Lila glued herself to my existence in kindergarten, but Graham wormed his way into our circle of friends in college. He campaigned for the role of my boyfriend for two whole weeks.
Plagiarized love letters—mostly William Wordsworth and Lord Byron.
I refrained from calling him out on his romantic poems and sonnets because the thought did count, although he lost a few points by assuming my love of science meant I knew nothing about literature.
We discovered our attraction wasn’t as physical as it was born of our mutual love for sports. My vagina stood in the way. He thought our shared interests plus his owning a penis and my owning a vagina equaled a match made in heaven.
As for Lila … well, she hated him for years.
“This place is quite fancy-pants, Graham Cracker. Or should I start calling you Governor Graham Cracker?”
The suite showcased a stunning view of the coastal mountains and water’s edge from the top level of the hotel nestled in the heart of downtown Vancouver. I suppressed a gasp to prevent feeding Graham’s ego. In fact, I went out of my way to bulldoze his ego at every opportunity…to be continued: http://bit.ly/37vJLSU
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