Series: Dirty Girl #1
on May 17, 2016
Genres: Alpha Male, Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance
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I received this book for free from in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
From USA Today bestselling author Meghan March comes a sexy new spin-off duet from the Dirty Billionaire Trilogy. Are you ready to get dirty again?
Desperately seeking rich, famous, single guy with a giant cock to make my lying, cheating, shouldÔÇÖve-been-born-dickless ex-boyfriend realize what heÔÇÖs just lost. Oh, and I give great head. Just sayinÔÇÖ.
No man in his right mind would answer that ad.
Except thousands did. My name is Greer Karas, and I should never be allowed near another bottle of booze again. Because when I drink, my friend and I do stupid things. Like take a page out of my older brother CreightonÔÇÖs playbook and post something completely asinine on the Internet. Waking up with a giant hangover to find my humiliating personal ad has gone viral is not my finest moment.
Cue my look of shock when one of HollywoodÔÇÖs hottest new bad boys, Cavanaugh Westman, comes knocking at my door and drops his pants to prove that he does indeed have a giant cock. What he doesnÔÇÖt have is an explanation for why he disappeared from my life without a word three years ago, only to show up on the big screen two years later, killing bad guys in action flicks.
Now he wants me again.
What the hell do I do now?
Holy shit! Meghan March sure knows how to melt the panties off of anyone. This was my first novel by her, and I could kick myself for not reading her books sooner. I think I need to read ÔÇ£Dirty BillionaireÔÇØ now, since Greer is CreightonÔÇÖs little sister.
ÔÇ£Dirty GirlÔÇØ delivers on the promise the title makes. ItÔÇÖs funny, sexy, steaming hot, and with a twist at the end IÔÇÖm STILL NOT OVER. ItÔÇÖs a story filled with ups and downs and unexpected events I did not see coming. Meghan did an amazing job of keeping the suspense up until the end, and definitely surprised me with her ÔÇ£bombÔÇØ.
ÔÇ£She’s not the girl who got away; she’s the one I walked away from. Life doesn’t always give us second chances, but this one is mine and I’m taking it. And her.ÔÇØ
Greer Karas was my type of heroine! I loved her, and I love her name! She was feisty, sassy, outspoken, but at the same time had a vulnerability about her that drew me in from page one. I mean how could anyone not love her after putting her ad online for the world to see. SheÔÇÖs my new idol, woman crush, and what else is out there. I wish she was real so she can be my new BFF!
ÔÇ£Desperately seeking rich, famous, single guy with a giant cock to make my lying, cheating, shouldÔÇÖve-been-born-dickless ex-boyfriend realize what heÔÇÖs just lost.
Oh, and I give great head. Just sayinÔÇÖ.ÔÇØ
And Cavanaugh Westman. HeÔÇÖs the epitome of dominant, dirty talking, sex on a stick alpha I was told I will be enjoying. (People werenÔÇÖt wrong here.) After reading the ad Greer posted, he saw it as a sign to claim what, or who, has been his for a while now. We know from the beginning that Cav is hiding something, but what remains the big mystery. And I for one did not see this one coming.
ÔÇ£I would lie, cheat, and steal to call this woman my own.ÔÇØ
This was one entertaining read, and I couldnÔÇÖt tear myself away. And I was traveling so this is saying a lot. ItÔÇÖs quick, steamy as hell, funny, and filled with twits that only lead to more questions. I throughoutly enjoyed this read and CANNOT wait for the next one.
~Review by Anja
No. Fucking. Way.
Can you photoshop real life? Because thatÔÇÖs the only way I can possibly be seeing through my peephole what IÔÇÖm seeing right now.
Cavanaugh Westman. In the flesh. Outside my door.
The knock stopped me mid-shuffle on the way to my coffeemaker. So that makes me an uncaffeinated, makeup-less, messy-bunned, legging-wearing couch surfer who hasnÔÇÖt showered in the two days IÔÇÖve spent holed up in my apartment.
He canÔÇÖt see me like this.
IÔÇÖve had so many fantasies of how it will go when I finally came face-to-face with Cav again. IÔÇÖll be wearing something sexy, yet classy. Perfect hair, makeup, eyebrows. IÔÇÖll adopt a casually disinterested mien. HeÔÇÖll be devastated when he realizes what he missed out on by standing me up that night and disappearing without a word.
ThereÔÇÖs no way in hell IÔÇÖm answering that door. Cav Westman can sit out in my hallway all day. Not opening it.
But Cav reads my mind, the bastard.
ÔÇ£Open the door, baby girl. Your message came through loud and clear with that ad.ÔÇØ
A barely audible gasp escapes my lungs.
ÔÇ£ThatÔÇÖs right, I know youÔÇÖre standing there. So, open the door, Greer.ÔÇØ
His deep, gravelly voice stirs memories I thought I wiped out of my brain. Apparently not.
I rush to the couch to grab my phone. I need to text Banner. Need to freak out with her and schedule an emergency spa day so I can be all the things I need to be before facing him again.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt. I do not need to impress Cav Westman. HeÔÇÖs nothing to me. And I can prove it right now by opening the door. HeÔÇÖll see exactly how much I donÔÇÖt care about his opinion.
Before I can change my mind, or look down at my shirt to make sure IÔÇÖm not sporting any stains from yesterdayÔÇÖs coffee, I reach for the dead bolts and unlock them before I twist the doorknob and tug.
As soon as the door is open, I know IÔÇÖve made a terrible mistake.
Through the peephole, he was marginally distorted. On the billboards and movie posters plastered to the sides of buses in the city, he looked like a total stranger. But Cav in the flesh?
I lose my grip on the door and it swings open.
How does he not look older? No new lines bracket his mouth or crease the corners of his eyes. Instead, a new scar curves along his jaw, giving him a sexier, more dangerous look. His shoulders are impossibly broader, making his hips seem even narrower.
His hazel eyes flash as he takes me inÔÇöat least they havenÔÇÖt changed. Today theyÔÇÖre more tawny gold than gray or green. Guessing what color they would be was part of the game I played with myself before. His dark brown hair is sexy and disheveled, longer than the buzz cut he had before, but everything else is the same. Worn jeans, a plain T-shirt, and scuffed boots. Strong, bold features that many a man would find impossible to carry off, but are the reason millions of women would line up to have Cavanaugh WestmanÔÇÖs babies.
ÔÇ£What are you doing here?ÔÇØ I whisper, reminding myself that I no longer have some naive fantasy of being the one for Cav.
His gaze returns to my face, and I know his inspection of me canÔÇÖt be nearly as flattering as mine of him.
IÔÇÖm waiting for him to say something .┬á.┬á. anything. Like an apology or an explanation for disappearing three years ago, but instead I get something completely different.
His hands drop to the button of his jeans. ÔÇ£Based on your ad, the inspection isnÔÇÖt quite complete.ÔÇØ
If my jaw could drop to the floor like a cartoon characterÔÇÖs, it would.
Oh. My. God. I never saw what he was packing before, only a grazing handful the one night I finally got bold, but he put me off, promising me a night that never happened.
I stand like a slack-jawed moron and force my gaze to his face.
ÔÇ£What are you doing?ÔÇØ
His wicked grinÔÇöone he uses so rarely, even in the movies of his IÔÇÖll never admit IÔÇÖve seenÔÇöwipes away the three years between our past and present.
The hiss of the zipper comes next.
I keep my gaze on his face as his eyes dare me. To look or to stop him, IÔÇÖm not sure which.
ÔÇ£Apparently youÔÇÖve changed your requirements for wooing, baby girl.ÔÇØ
The endearment on his lips brings back another wave of memories, but the flex of his bicep against the sleeve of his T-shirt steals my attention.
Oh. My. God.
HeÔÇÖs gripping his cock, stroking it, isnÔÇÖt he? All I have to do is look down, and IÔÇÖll have more than one question answered.
ÔÇ£You know you wanna look.ÔÇØ
The dare is there again. And heÔÇÖs right. I want to look. So I do.
Oh. My. Hell.
Well, letÔÇÖs just say Cav knocked that requirement out of the park. The sight of his long, thick cock in his big, capable hand sends heat rushing south through my body, pooling between my thighs. My nipples, sans bra, strain against the material of my shirt. CavÔÇÖs gaze drops as wellÔÇöto my chest.
The room pulses with a desperate intensity. Hanging between us is the night we never had. The one he walked away from.
I have two choices. Take what I want, what I asked for, or hold on to the rejection he dealt me three years ago.
My brain short-circuits on one thoughtÔÇölife is short, and you never know if youÔÇÖll get a second chance.
So I step forward, wrap one hand around his neck and the other around his cock, and kiss him for everything IÔÇÖm worth.