Love―on the rocks…. The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he returns to his childhood home is a broken hearted bride in his shower, let alone the drama and chaos that come with her. Lydia Green doesn't know whether to scream or cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it's with his best man is another thing all together. Just when this runaway bride has nowhere left to turn, a handsome stranger offers her a broad, muscular shoulder to cry on. Vaughan is the exact opposite of the picture perfect, respected businessmen she's normally drawn to. This former musician-turned-bartender is rough around the edges and is facing his own crossroads. But Lydia's already tried Mr. Right and discovered he's all wrong--maybe it's time to give Mr. Right Now a chance. After all, what's wrong with getting dirty? Dirty is the first book in the Dive Bar series from bestselling author Kylie Scott. "Sometimes you just need a book that'll make you laugh, swoon, and escape away into a fun romance and DIRTY was exactly that! With Kylie Scott's signature light-hearted style, this book was the perfect pick-me-up!" ― Aestas Book Blog "Scott brings back the sizzling heat, uncontainable energy and outrageous humor that made her Stage Dive series so addicting with the first installment of its spinoff series, Dive Bar." ― RT Book Reviews "There's a Lydia inside each and every female heart. Knowing. Confusion. Understanding. Above all, love. DIRTY is a remarkable book." --Abbi Glines, New York Times bestselling author of The Vincent Boys series "Nobody writes inked-up, sexy-as-sin rockers like Kylie Scott!! I devoured every deliciously dirty page of this hot, witty, surprisingly sweet romance. If you loved the Stage Dive guys, be prepared to fall hard for Dive Bar's Vaughan Hewson." –Emma Chase, New York Times bestselling author of Tangled “Killer writing, laugh-out-loud humor and so heart-warming you will blush all over.” –Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author of the Real series “DIRTY is Kylie Scott on top of her game.” –K. Bromberg, New York Times bestselling author of The Driven Series "A great mix of humor, flirtation, and romance." ― Night Owl Reviews "DIRTY is a maelstrom of sexiness with a lot of laughs and a few tears. Kylie Scott transforms the mundane into magnificent with great storytelling." ― Fresh Fiction USA Today bestselling author of the Stage Dive series KYLIE SCOTT is a long time fan of erotic love stories, rock n roll, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia she reads, writes and never wastes time on the internet. Dirty By Kylie Scott St. Martin's Press Copyright © 2016 Kylie Scott All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-250-08321-0 CHAPTER 1 Fuck. I stared at my cell phone, mouth slack in horror. Man, they were really going for it. Tongues wrangling, teeth clashing. There was no hesitation, no holding back, as they ground their bodies together. The angle and lighting were crap, but still plenty sufficient to catch all the porny action, god help me. This couldn't be happening. What the hell was I going to do? From out in the hallway came voices, laughter, all of the usual sounds of happiness. About what you'd expect on your big day. The smut on the small screen, not so much. I didn't want to see it, yet I couldn't look away. Whoever had sent this to me had blocked their number. They could have only had one aim in mind, however. Shit. God, the sure way they touched, so obviously familiar with each other's bodies, killed me. My stomach churned, bile burning the back of my throat. Enough. I swallowed hard and threw the cell onto the brand-new super-size bed. Video still rolling, it lay discarded among the scattered red rose petals like some sick joke. Should have chucked it at the wall. Stomped it, or something. Chris had said they were going to hang out, take it easy. Just him and his best man, Paul, knocking back a few drinks and talking about the old times. Sure as hell, there'd been no mention of them tongue wrestling because I would have remembered that no matter how busy with wedding details I'd been. My eyes itched, a muscle quivering in my cheek. Had this been going on behind my back all along, in which case, what kind of idiot was I? I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tight, doing my best to keep my shit together. It wasn't working. Not even a little. The bitch of it was, now that I thought about it, there'd been signs. Chris's libido had never been what you'd call raging. Among all the dinner dates and outings that made up our whirlwind romance, there'd been lots of hand holding and kissing, sure. But little to no actual intercourse. There'd always been excuses. His family was religious, we should follow tradition and wait for the wedding night, it would be so special when we finally did it, yada yada. It'd all made sense at the time. His simply no