Can Ivy survive her own wayward heart? Sometimes life throws a spanner in the works.So, what can you do if you get given a bad start? Are there really second chances? Velvet Ivy knows all the answers, that’s for sure. She’s been there and done that, even bought the god-damn T-shirt, multiple times. Now, she’s working for herself. And not just to make do, either. This time around she’s got a real … got a real dream to follow. She’s going to make something of her life.
She’s gorgeous. She’s sexy. She’s a top-of-the-line lady if you want to party at the Palomino. Aha! This gorgeous platinum blonde can hold her own against anyone. And even the toughest bikers do as she says, period. But has Ivy found something even more dangerous than that? And is it really possible to find a love that is real and meaningful in the open Nevada desert?
Maybe her crazy world will catch up with her, instead. It’s hard to know for sure. So, what on earth will she dream for? And who else will come along for the ride? One thing’s for sure, Velvet Ivy is going to rock the heart of Nevada. Ready, set… let’s ride…
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What in the world was this? Not a story, that’s for sure. It felt more like the person who wrote this made a list of everything she ate in like a month and decided to throw in a half-assed attempt of a story into it just for the hell of it. Why? Because the way the story was written was like a shopping list with full detail of what the characters ate. In. Every. Single. Page.
The main character Ivy (and every other character) might as well have been a cartoon of milk on said shopping list, that’s how lifeless she was. There were zero personalities, zero development and next to no plot taking place. It was just description after description of what the characters were doing in their day by boring day lives, like a freaking Need to Do list. I mean, sure, it was an odd life as “A lady of the night” aka prostitute, but all that meant in this story really was a day by boring day descriptions of straight sex, what she ate, lesbian sex, what she ate, sex with the love interest, what she ate and then some thrown in descriptions of her living, construction of a bar and her motorcycle gang. Oh, and let’s not forget what she ate again and again and again. Seriously, this made ordinary life seem like the most anorexic fantasy come to life.
It did seem to try to have a deeper plot with the autistic daughter and the tragedy of her life as well as the big tragedy in the end. However the daughter was only a part of the story in the beginning and then barely even mentioned after that. Also, considering the characters had the same amount of emotion as a dairy product in your fridge you can imagine how little the tragedy impacted the story and impacted me as a reader. It was almost a relief because to me it only meant that the story had reached its climax (if you can even call it that) and would soon be over.
Overall the writing was so awkward and stilted, and so lackluster in imagination and passion. It was repetitive with the constant eating, sex, camping and even just Ivy telling everyone her story about her daughter. The few jokes there were were so bad that the only indication that it was “funny” was that the characters laughed. That’s all the the sideline characters were there for it seemed; to laugh and make jokes. Other than that they were nothing more than names that popped up but had no impact to the story.
Then we had the bonus story, My Kind of Dirty. I do believe that it for certain was the author’s kind of dirty, but no one else’s. To me it seemed to have been written by someone (ahem * the author) going through a dry spell and writing out their crudest fantasies just to get through it. Because as much as the story tried to tell me how oh so in love they were, it really only was about one thing. Sex, sex, sex. But hey, at least there was no eating.