Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume Six by Livia Ellis

All jobs become routine after a while. Even that of a male escort.

Memoirs of a gigolo volume six

Oliver Adair. Beautiful on the outside. Damaged on the inside. One bad decision followed by the next leaves him broke and out of options. When propositioned to sell his body he enters into a parallel world of sex for hire. Oliver embarks on a journey that will force him to confront his demons, answer for the sins of the past, and become a man.

All jobs become routine after a while. Even that of a male escort.

 

Genre: FICTION / Erotica / General

Secondary Genre: FICTION / Romance / General

Language: English

Keywords:

Word Count: 31848

Sales info:

My sales are consistently high and my reviews are generally very good. Sales on Amazon are excellent and I have had a book featured in USA Today. 


Sample text:

The Psychiatrist

I come awake with a gasping scream.

For a moment I’m disoriented.

More than a moment truthfully.

I don’t know where I am.

A hand reaches for me.

This makes me jump.

For a moment I think I’m in my bed and that the woman who reaches for me is my former fiancée. I want her to tell me that all will be well. I’m just having a dream.

But it’s not her.

It’s the Psychiatrist.

I was dreaming.

She turns on a light.

She hands me a glass of water.

Am I okay?

Of course. Just fine. Why am I in her bed? Then I remember. We’d gone to some work function of hers. I was going to leave after fulfilling the money making portion of our evening, but I fell asleep. It happens. I’d had a lot to drink. But then again, so did she. No wonder. If anyone would have told me that a bunch of psychiatrists getting together for a fun evening would spend an entire night discussing their patients, I would have brought a hip-flask.

What was my dream?

Nothing.

I really can tell her. Dreams are sort of her raison d’etre. Maybe she can help me sort through it.

It’s okay. I don’t want to burden her.

Stop being so polite. No wonder we’re a nation of neurotics.

I have this dream.

I dream I’m my father.

I’m him walking down the street.

In a charcoal grey suit and white shirt.

No tie.

No coat.

It’s a warm spring day.

I feel alive.

My son and I are friends. At last. We have the relationship I always wanted.

I’m sober and I’ve been sober for better than a year.

I’ve told my son about my problems with booze.

He claims he never knew.

 


Book translation status:

The book is available for translation into any language except those listed below:

LanguageStatus
Italian
Already translated. Translated by Irene Aprile
Spanish
Translation in progress. Translated by Ronangelo Gonzalez

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