The Piranhas by Harold Robbins
This is what happens when you attempt to have a Harold Robbins novel that focuses on the story and not the sleaze.
This is what happens when you attempt to have a Harold Robbins novel that focuses on the story and not the sleaze.
A two-oogie review on Christmas Day. Look what she made me do.
Here’s another installment in the ennoblement of bad parenting and children behaving badly.
Suburbia is terrible, but put in an ice cream truck and it’s terrifying. But this isn’t that movie, sorry.
If you have ever wanted to read about Santa’s reindeer shagging one another, you’re at the right place.
How lovely, here’s a story super-powered by the heroine’s rampant stupidity. Viva la amour!
I know this is a month to be charitable, but I hope the hero soils himself each time he feels horny.
Oh dear, isn’t there another kind of music this dear can do?
This one is so nondescript that I don’t know what to say here. Er… Merry Christmas? May you find a million dollars under the Christmas tree?
Violins, pianos, woo-woo-ooh vocals… the usual. Oh, BrunuhVille.