Reviewed by Marieke
TITLE: Head Game
AUTHOR: Harper Jewel
PUBLISHER: Lush Publishing
LENGTH: 42 pages
BLURB:
Hey! Name’s Adam Darling and hustling’s my game. When I was eighteen, my parents kicked me to the curb after catching me enjoying a good romp in the sack with my boyfriend. So I took the bus to Queens, NY and used my boyish looks to turn tricks to make my rent and fund my weakness for club clothing.
On the night of my twentieth birthday, everything came crashing down and, like a wuss, I collapsed and had myself a good cry. Deep in my “woe is me” fest, I knew I had to make some decisions I’d much rather not have to face.
Confused, I’m not sure what to do. Should I leave the head game my life has become? Will my changing looks allow me to continue status quo? One very sexy cowboy has an offer that sounds like the answer I’ve been looking for, but can I find it within myself to take the leap of faith and accept it or should I walk away?
REVIEW:
The story starts off with Adam doing one of his tricks. Mr. Smith is a nasty, dirty, overweight man who likes his cock sucked by a pretty young thing. The inner dialogue makes it read as funny, but it still made me feel uncomfortable to read about how dirty he tastes and how bad his personal hygiene was. Then the next trick is a guy with a tiny dick who likes young boys. He’s a teacher and lusts after his students, but uses Adam to cope. This too was written more as a comedy than serious.
Later that night Adam goes out and meets Colt, a sexy cowboy. That’s when this book really starts going down hill. The conversations are just cringe worthy, too fake and bad to be read without me thinking; “What? Omg, you’re not serious are you? And; “Really…no, really?”
The story line is flimsy, the conversation worse. The characters are one-dimensional and lack everything from feeling to common sense. The Texas twang of Colt was the straw that made me completely abandon all hope. This story is unsolvable. I’m very sorry to say, because I hate giving bad reviews.
How can anyone write conversations like: As the chorus blared through the speakers, Colt slid up behind me and grabbed my hips, smashing his very aroused dick against my ass. “Feel that, sweet cheeks? It’s all for you tonight.”
“Mmm…” I turned around, yanked him close, and serenaded him with, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.”
And: “My prick is not a pig, cowboy.” I realized his southern accent kicked in more and more as his cock grew longer and stiffer by the second.
“No, no it ain’t, it’s somethin’ much, much better than some fat porker. But I’m lookin’ forward to hearin’ you squeal for me as you beg me to let you come while I have my wicked way with that sinful ass of yers.”
Or this; “Git along, little doggy. This is gonna be one hell of a ride,” Colt commanded.
And what I really don’t want to read in a sex scene: Within milliseconds, my balls were free and my prick began to jerk wildly as strings of hot cum flowed from it like piss. I could feel Colt’s cock knocking against my walls as the heat of his spunk filled the tip of the condom and spread throughout me.
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shiiit!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“Yippee ki-yay, sweet cheeks!”
Conclusion, this is a must not read for me. Well, unless you like that sort of thing…which I don’t.
RATING: 
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