Hard Rock Harlots
WARNING: STRINGS is not suitable for slut shamers, uptight stone throwers, Holier-Than-Thou prudes, humorless virgins, persons with chronic neck or back pain, pearl-clutching bitties, those who disparage crude humor or vulgarity in their many forms, closed-minded people with sticks up their asses, or anyone under the age of 18. The vile, base language and shocking, unholy sexual acts contained herein are not condoned by anyone with a lick of sense and should certainly not be reproduced without proper training and protection. The potty-mouthed and perpetually horny "heroine" (the term is used loosely) of this book does not resemble a normal, well-adjusted, or remotely believable person in any way, shape, or form. The author acknowledges that the characters in this book are shallow and two-dimensional; the plot is both ridiculous and insipid. She makes no apologies for any of it.
*Readers are strongly advised to wear latex gloves whilst reading to minimize contamination risks.
Free-spirited musician Letty Dillinger adheres to a strict, "no strings attached" policy when it comes to men. After a wild night of unabashed sex in a fancy hotel room, she never expects to see the adventurous stud she dubs "Shades" again. When her all-girl rock trio books a tour at the last minute as the opening act for their archenemies, Letty's shocked to discover she knows the competition's new lead singer. Intimately. Shades is no longer a one-night stand. Now he's the guy she has to one-up on stage every night for the sake of her career.
Sharing close quarters on a bus with her sexy nemesis and his bad-boy buddies puts Letty's Golden Rule to the test. On this tour, guitar strings aren't the only things being played. And when heartstrings are pulled too hard, they're bound to snap sooner or later.
WARNING: BEATS is specially formulated for horn dogs, porn oglers, smut peddlers, BDSM junkies, M/M and M/M/F addicts, DP dabblers, body modification connoisseurs, and lovers of A2M backdoor sexy times. If you don’t fall into these categories, can’t stomach hot man-on-man action, or if you have no idea what the above acronyms mean, please back away from BEATS now. This isn’t the book you’re looking for. Failure to heed this warning could inadvertently throw unauthorized users into a persistent vegetative state, or at the very least, require administration of a defibrillator to the chest and/or groin area. Nobody wants that.
For months, shy drummer Jinx Hardwick has been silently crushing on her tall, dark, and scary bandmate, Toombs Badcock. Drawn to his frightening ink and scars, she yearns to uncover the shadowy secrets lurking behind his silver eyes, but Jinx is too intimidated to even look at him, let alone talk to him. When she stumbles upon Toombs and their manipulative lead guitarist Rax in a compromising position, Jinx realizes her chances of winning Toombs’s heart aren’t just a long shot—they’re nonexistent. To make matters worse, Jinx’s family needs her at home. She’s about to back away from it all—Toombs, the band, her dreams of fame and fortune—when Rax makes her an offer she can’t refuse: a no-holds-barred night alone with Toombs. There’s one small catch. She has to go through Rax to get it.
NOCTURNES contains 511 F-bombs, 81 well-endowed male chickens, 65 girl kitties, 58 Richard the Lessers, 10 C-U-Next-Tuesdays, and a plethora of other colorful words and phrases that would deafen your virginal mother’s ears and make her bust out her “Shame on you!” finger. If you’ve been tuned in since the beginning of the Hard Rock Harlots series, you know the drill. The sex is extreme, the language is graphic, and the story is over the top. Prudes and under 18s need not apply.
WARNING: NOCTURNES addresses serious topics such as alcoholism, prostitution, and cheating. If you’re looking for a barrel of laughs or sunshine and rainbows, this is NOT the book for you.
Rax Wrathbone is the dirty rock star you love to hate. The filthy fantasy slithering through your bed sheets. The serpent in your lady garden. The snake bite in your panties that keeps you sweating all night. He. Is. Sex.
And he’s no good. For anyone.
After a nasty breakup with his best friend and their band’s drummer, Rax is flying solo for the first time in years. Who needs the drama of commitment when the line for your humping booth spans three city blocks? No, groupies and liquor are far finer company than relationships, and they don’t leave bruises after they’ve had their way with you. At least not lasting ones.
Rax’s new adventures as an alcoholic, guitar-slashing one-man show are going along swimmingly until the only woman who’s ever brought him to his knees shimmies down a pole back into his life. Eve doesn’t abide excessive drinking, she has sex with strangers for a living, and she can’t remember Rax’s name to save her life.
She’s perfect in every way.
Now, if he could just get sober long enough to forget his past and convince Eve he’s worthy of her future …
WARNING: ROCK is a no-holds- (or holes-) barred bisexual, polyamorous lust-fest for the senses. It contains GRAPHIC LANGUAGE and EXTREMELY EXPLICIT SEX. This book is not suitable for readers under the age of 18 or anyone expecting a realistic story. A strong stomach, an open mind, and appreciation for over-the-top, egotistical characters are a must. Best read after STRINGS, BEATS, and NOCTURNES.
If you’d asked me to describe myself a couple weeks ago, I’d have told you I’m Letty Fucking Dillinger—The Rock in your cock, the cream in your wet dream, the spunk in your junk.
I had everything a girl could want: A hot rocker boyfriend, fame, a nuclear cooter, a smart phone … The whole damn world at my feet. I worked my ass off to get where I am, and I have no regrets.
But everything changed when she exploded on the scene with the mother of atomic bombs strapped across her chest. She’s beautiful, talented, and holds the key to my future—my life as I know it—in her hands.
I hate her. I fucking hate her. Because she and her merry band of bitches made me do something I’ve never done before. They made me doubt myself.
Who am I?
I’m not sure anymore.
Some people think touring with a bunch of hardcore rockers would be a dream come true.
Most days, life on the bus is more like a nightmare made flesh. Stressful, tense, and claustrophobic as crap.
Keeping the band members from suffocating each other with pillows has been a full-time job since we first hit the road. One day I'm playing referee between longtime friends fighting over the drummer girl. The next I'm Mean Mommy Jillian hiding liquor bottles from the guitarist who splits his time between impromptu stomach pumps at the local emergency room and unscheduled overnight accommodations in the local police station's drunk tank.
And don't even get me started on the one whose name starts with "Letty Dillinger." A hypersexual, walking special effect, she can be the best or the worst of them all, depending on which side of the bed the wet spot is on and whether she woke up on it.
I'm tired. I miss my best friend, the ex-husband who left me for a man. (It's okay. Turns out I'm a lesbian and didn't know it. Go figure.) I long for the touch of a woman who can take me away from the chaos whipping my life like an egg beater, if only for a little while. If the horny beast trapped inside this cage doesn't get out soon, my job, my band, my reputation might not survive.
I don't need love. I just need an orgasm. A really long, hard, knuckle-whitening, teeth-clenching, window-rattling, thigh-splitting climax.
Unfortunately, my employers―Letty especially―aren't going to like where I'm going to get it.
BANG is LGBTQ erotica that includes FF, MMF, FFF, BDSM, and may trigger sensitive readers. It is not a romance.