His Next Trick Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

His Next Trick

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Flora Ferrari

Book Information:

Illusionist. Magician, celebrity… World’s most eligible bachelor for a decade.

After two shows a day, seven days a week for more years than I can remember, I wonder if this really could be my last show.
For real though. No illusions. No more tricks.
Just getting honest with myself.
God knows I’ve got enough cash stacked to last more than one lifetime and I’m not getting any younger.
I keep in shape, sure. But there are only so many times a guy can escape certain death several times a day.
I’ve got a tight team to help me pull it off, but something’s not the same as it used to be with my long-term manager and agent.
Or is it just that I don’t actually like the guy?
One thing’s for sure, I’m taking a break after this. I need to do more than just perform like a circus freak.
My life’s so full of nothing it’s almost unbelievable.
I’m on the road so I don’t have to go home to my empty house.
A castle with no queen.
A magician who can make a whole building disappear but I can’t even pull the one true love of my life out of a hat, or anywhere else.
Or can I?
Spotting her in the front row, I don’t have time to play the ‘will she, won’t she?’ game.
I don’t just pull love out of a hat, I pull her out of the front row audience, instantly charged with the knowledge she’s the one.
Instantly possessive and protective of her. I know that she’ll be my next trick.
Guaranteed to be the hardest to pull off because I’m falling too deep with a single glance.
But she will be mine. No matter what.
Books by Author:

Flora Ferrari



“The one last article, huh? Just like the last, last time.”

I groan as Karlee, my boss, only gives a single dismissive blink over the rims of her thick glasses.

“You’ve done great work this year, Penelope,” she drones, breathing out through her nose as her attention shifts to more pressing matters than an intern.

Like running a newspaper.

“It would be a shame if my final review and reference had to say otherwise,” she murmurs absently, but it has the desired effect.

Wow. Just wow…

An internship at a national newspaper was my dream job. Writing about my first love, science, and sometimes entertainment when the usual staff writers are swamped.

Occasionally getting special attention as a new ‘up and coming’ journalist.

It was a dream… That’s kinda turned into a nightmare, in some ways. My internship was due to finish weeks ago. But Karlee just keeps finding more ‘work’ for me that numbs my brain and my body.

Until today that is.

Working essentially for free as an intern, I do twice the heavy lifting compared to anyone else around here.

But before I can even think about storming out of Karlee’s office or quitting before getting a reference, or both, she stops me.

She clears her throat and sighs as I turn, watching her gnaw at the arm of her glasses.

Her face has that look like she’s thinking, but her mouth is slowly opening and closing.

Like a fish.

The plastic tip of the frame of her glasses clicking against her teeth.

“Tell ya what,” she finally says, opening a drawer and producing a small envelope.

“Here are two front row tickets to go see Jett Masters. Tonight,” she says, pausing for effect.

I can see why she’s boss.

“Instead of the ‘Is solar power vegan?’ story, we’ll go with a classic debunking this so-called magic. How ‘bout it?” she asks, putting on a rehearsed smile and checking her watch.

Signaling that our meeting is over, telling me my next task not asking me.

Jett Masters?

The mention of his name is enough to see me take a shuddering breath, needing to steady myself. I lean against the back of a chair.

The sudden brush of my panties against my instantly soaked sex makes me gasp.

“That’s a yes then,” Karlee clips, slides the envelope over to my side of the desk, and slips her glasses back on as she returns her focus to other things.

Meeting adjourned.

The rest of my day is suddenly thrown into chaos though.

What to wear?

How do I even get to the event let alone home again, not to mention how do I get out of a Friday night shift at the only job I have that pays?

Plus a million other things that all pale in comparison to the image in my mind of the man himself.

An image I see on paper when I tear open the envelope to see the tickets once I’m alone in the elevator.

Jett Masters.

I know it’s not his real name, it couldn’t be.

But his name is just words.

What he is himself is something beyond words.

This is no schoolboy. This is a man who knows what he wants and can literally make anything happen.

Real or imaginary, I’m guessing.

Even the perforated line dividing the ticket down one side of his chiseled jaw looks handsome.

Like it could exist in real life and he’d still look hotter for it.

Jett Masters is renowned for his daring and impossible escape skills, as well as capturing media attention for all the wrong reasons.

The ticket stub doesn’t do the man justice, I know from reading magazines and binge-watching his shows that he keeps in shape.

His dark, intense eyes arrest mine from the glossy ticket.

The black satin shirt opened far enough to expose his chiseled pecs that match his wide and muscular shoulders.

Gray flecked hair combed back from his face, giving him the look of a modern-day and very hot wizard.

God’s gift to all women of every kind and shape.

Not to mention the magician’s ample bulge through his trademark leather pants.

That is no illusion, I’m sure.

But his mesmerizing gaze, granite-set jaw with a knowing half-smile stares up at me with a kind of longing today.

Even though he is the world’s most eligible bachelor, he looks like he’s got a bit of yearning for something himself.

That’s what it feels like. Or maybe it’s my own longing?

Longing for a better life. Longing to have a real job. A decent place to live. A way to pay off my college debt.

All of those things aren’t the longing I get when I see Jett Masters though.

His image brings up a very different kind of longing.

And not the kind that a live show or TV special can cure.

My scientific mind tells me it’s stupid though.


A guy like him?

Apart from being a huge star and with more money than he knows what to do with…

The calculated probability of an older, mature man like him even looking at a younger, heavyset nerdy girl like me?