Here’s the deal. I went in for the sex, okay? A few years ago I picked up The Wicked West (Victoria Dahl writing as Holly Summers, the pseudonym of the heroine in Talk Me Down). I’m a sucker for historical Westerns and I love erotic romances. Mix the two and I’m in heaven. The Wicked West gave me exactly what I wanted. The smoking hot sexy times, mixed with the dirt under the nails and buck baths that come with the old West setting. When I heard about Harlot, I almost broke my nail on that one-click pre-order button. I was ready for more of Dalh’s brand of old timey sexy times. Yeah, yeah, I read the disclaimer on her website.
Warning: Harlot is an erotic romance and is darker than most of my books. Be prepared for a little wrongness. Just the right amount of wrong, hopefully.
Bring on the dark wrongness! Bring it! I was ready and, again, I got exactly what I wanted. Harlot is filled with drool-worthy sex scenes between a couple who has waited years to finally share a bed. But I got something else I wasn’t expecting. I wasn’t expecting to feel all the feels. I wasn’t expecting to be up in the middle of the night, pretending I wasn’t dashing tears out of the corners of my eyes while I stared at my e-reader.