Cocky Jerk by Janine Infante Bosco EPUB & PDF

Cocky Jerk by Janine Infante Bosco EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Author: Janine Infante Bosco
• Language: English
• Genre: Literary Fiction
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

ANTONIA
MONDAY IS A MAN. DoN’T try to argue with me, I am
fully prepared to go to war on this one. Think about it,
Monday comes too quickly…way too quickly if you get my
drift. I mean, you’re not even finished with Saturday and bam,
Monday is already picking up its pants from the floor and
asking if we can do this shit again next week.

Yeah, no thank you.
Sadly, though, you can’t give Monday a phony number and
write it off as a bad lover. All you can do is give Monday your
middle finger and press on. Which is exactly what I did when
my alarm clock failed to do its damn job. It wouldn’t have
been a big deal if today wasn’t my first day as an intern for
“Ask Ida,” the infamous advice column that prides itself on
aiding the misguided fools of New York City.

Can’t get laid? Ask Ida.
Can’t get your pet goat to walk on a leash? No problem,
just Ask Ida!
Does your underwear keep riding up your ass? Have no
fear, Ida’s got you covered.

I couldn’t wait to meet this Ida chick, seeing as I had a
couple of questions for her myself. Questions like, how the
hell do you get your overbearing father and his outlaw
motorcycle club off your back and find a man who isn’t
intimidated by a girl who rides a Harley and swears like a
sailor. I’d also like to know the winning lotto numbers and
while I’m at it, who killed Jimmy Hoffa.

However, I wasn’t going to be working for the elusive Ida
Goldman, so if I wanted any of my questions answered, I’d
likely have to submit them to the column along with the rest of
the Tri-state area.

My job was with her assistant Soraya Venedetta and while
Soraya seemed cool as fuck and totally my kind of people, I
doubt she’d be keen on having an intern who couldn’t get her
ass to work on time. Especially on the first day.

So, I rolled out of bed, squeezed my ass into a pair of jeans
and instead of my usual vintage rock band tee, I pulled a black
thermal over my head. After all, I wanted to make a good
impression. Lastly, I shrugged on my leather jacket and laced
up my moto boots. My hair was a wild mess of curls, but there
was nothing I could do about that except pray the helmet
defrizzed the mane.

Ready to start my day, I made my way through the Corrupt
Hellraiser compound. But there’s no clean break when living
with a bunch of bikers, though, and I was bombarded with
questions.

Where are you going?
Who are you going to be with?
What do you mean you got a job?

By the time I threw my leg over my Harley, I had a halfhour to get from Brooklyn to Manhattan and unless my bike
sprouted chrome wings, I was undoubtedly going to be late. I
thought about sending Soraya a text, or maybe one of those
edible fruit arrangements—something that said Hey, I’m on my
way.

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