Too much gossip, not enough substance.
The first account by "Olivia" is such a simplistic one wonders if it's just a word-for-word transcript from a taped interview, with no re-writes or editing. Example, "That yacht must have been worth millions and millions of dollars." Or "Life is funny. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day..."
"Olivia" refers to an Armenian prince, and later on to a Saudi Arabian president. Either she is truly ignorant about foreign affairs (something she admits to on page 5), or unable to fact-check her own writing (if indeed she wrote this, instead of having it transcribed by someone else, as I suspect).
Alternatively, her wealthy clients could be having her on, which only goes to show how naive she was (and still is). It's ironic that the one film she managed to have an acting role in is titled Pretty Smart!
The last two pages hold some promise, because that's where "Olivia" discusses the ethics of what she's been doing, and provides a better glimpse into her past and current motivations. But this section is brief, and there's not much explanation as to how her attitude (d)evolved.
"I used to do it for the thrill - now I would do it for the money."
"Call me a realist."
If only she had gone back and paid more attention to her narrative, I think she could have provided a more realistic insight into her complex life story.
Carly Milne's section is better written and/or edited. an attempt has been made to re-create dialogue and provide the reader with a spectator's view of a developing scene, rather than to passively provide an account of this happened and then that happened. There's a form and a method to this narrative, even if the dialogue is at a below-par level:
"So was Kevin Federline really jealous of you two?"
"Ommigod, he's the best. I've never had someone like him before."
Not to mention the large blank space gaps between the lines of dialogue, intended to stretch out a rather slim story.
Unfortunately, the by-now distracting Hollywood A-list namedropping continues. The segments could have been titled according to something related to the narrator's own life experience (eg, "Falling Apart" or "The Ironies of Life"). What started in the "Olivia" story, becomes more prominent here. Segments are now primarily labeled "Britney Spears and Tommy Lee" "Charlie Sheen and Michael Keaton" "Marlon Wayans" "The Music Industry Bigwig" and so forth.
Also, I felt that the writing style of some passages was inauthentic, with words and phrases selected to impress, rather than coming from an original voice. "Everyone gathered out front of the Sheraton Universal to mingle and chat while a minstrel wandered the crowd." This is a gathering of adult industry performers, not a Renaissance fair! And since when do women call a ladies' sleeveless top a wife beater, or choose to describe their job as being "drilled by some of the top swordsmen in the industry," even if they are porn film actresses?
Amanda's story is more informative and personal from the get-go. Early on she tells us "I realized just how tired of this kind of shit I really am... Actual sex is the least demanding part of my job - all this other craps is what gets so draining..." and then she proceeds to illustrate this with a run-down of her many and varied experiences. This time round there is an understood point of view, a purpose to the narrative.
It's a pity then that most of it by now reads like a rehash of the previous two memoirs. Her clients are more or less the same set of movie stars and film industry executives as Olivia's, while Adnan Khashoggi is yet again a favorite customer.
My suggestion is to skip the first two segments, read this one first and then if you are up to some more read the rest of the book.
The book closes with Jennifer Young's story "Hollywood Princess," your stereotypical celebrity offspring tell-all where throwing parties and inviting more celebrity offsprings is considered being a "real entrepreneur," until one ends up being Heidi Fleiss's go-fer. Enough said.