Kendall Grey's Blog, page 7
October 4, 2017
Hard Rock Harlots #5 is coming!
Killer Buzz Float manager Jillian Frost has survived the band’s social media woes, baby drama, insecurities, and various forms of incarcerations and come out looking like the bad-ass mom-bitch who rules the bus and the hearts of the rock stars inside it. Though she seems cool as a cucumber on the outside (like that old deodorant commercial says, “Never let ’em see you sweat!”), Jillian is hot and sticky on the inside.
We’re four books in to the Hard Rock Harlots series. It’s time for the world to hear Jillian’s side of the Hard Rock Harlots saga thus far.
Ladies and gents, I give you … BANG.
Book 5 in the Hard Rock Harlots Series
Some people think touring with a bunch of hardcore rockers would be a dream come true.
It isn’t.
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.
* * * *
Formerly published in draft form on Wattpad, BANG has been professionally edited and updated for retail sale. BANG is LGBTQ erotica that includes FF, MMF, FFF, BDSM, and may trigger sensitive readers. It is not a romance.
You can pre-order BANG, book five in the Hard Rock Harlots series today. It’s only $2.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited subscribers on October 17. What are you waiting for?
May 26, 2017
What the Fuckery Friday: Cows
Driving along the streets of Backwoods, Georgia one day, I noticed a herd of cows in a field. Not unusual by any stretch. However, this particular group looked like they were up to no-good. They all faced the same direction, as cows, who are quite follower-y, are wont to do, but something about their cloven stances struck me as diabolical. Or maybe it was the glowing embers in their normally dull eyes.
The head cow in charge lifted his beefy muzzle as I made my approach. Chewing his cud, he said to his mates, “It’s just a fucking minivan. We need a truck. Keep watching for a truck.”
The other cows nodded. “Got it, boss. Truck. Minivans can go to hell where they belong. With serial killers and war criminals and fuckers who don’t wear deodorant.”
Shocked, I looked at my son sitting beside me. “What do you think those cows are up to?” I asked.
“They definitely want to steal a truck,” said he.
“Should we call the authorities?” My fingers tensed around the steering wheel.
“I don’t know. I got a bad feeling about this.”
Me fucking too.
The beta cow, a sassy-looking black and white heifer, watched me with a deeply disturbing stare. Hungry. Like she hadn’t eaten in days and had suddenly developed a hankering for human flesh. Or maybe she was born with it.
She chew-whispered so the others couldn’t hear, “I want that minivan, missus. And the Demonling too. He looks mighty tasty.” Then that cow licked her meaty lips.
I rolled down the window. “Bitch, you better stay away from my Demonling with those smackery-doos. Don’t think I won’t take an umbrella to your hide!”
She sat back on her haunches and lifted a front leg like a giant bird finger. “Child, please. I got a good 1500 pounds on your skinny ass. Beat me. I triple-dog dare you.”
“Shows how little you know,” I shouted back. “I sure as shit ain’t skinny. I’m as thick as thieves around these here parts. Keep your wanderin’ gaze fixed on your own kind, or I’ll call the cow cops.”
She straightened right up after that threat, and so did the others. “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” the alpha said. “No need to bring the law.”
Just then, a truck appeared in my rearview. I played it cool, tracking it through the looking-glass. When the truck got close, a rumbling bullish voice hollered, “We’ll be takin’ that there truck, mister. Get the fuck outta the vehicle.”
And sure enough, the driver exited. Them goddamn cows surrounded the pick-up, standing on their hind legs, wielding weapons and prods like they was some kind of bovine militia. The alpha gestured with his shotgun for the driver to get out of their way. Then he slung the shotgun across his back like a samurai sword and climbed into the driver’s seat. The sassy heifer got in the passenger side, and four others leapt into the bed.
A pair of dark sunglasses slid over the bull’s eyes. “The giant Ferris wheel soon will be ours!”
The other cows mooed their excitement as the tires squealed, leaving behind a cloud of red clay dust.
I shook my head and turned on the windshield wipers. Just another day in Backwoods, Georgia.
