Had Confucius ever owned a Garth Brooke hat and slipped into a pair of starched denims, he'd conceivably be gracing the scripting credits for Not the Lovin' Kind, a twangy country-flavored feature whose sex scenes tend to pop up with the irrelevant frequency of winos at a George Jones concert.
As it is, this unique conspiracy between Jim Holliday and Shayla LaVeaux trots out more fortune cookie wisdom about love-gone-rancid than is to be found in any Ozark Mountain Chinese restaurant. And, just when you think you're comfortably situated in a good reverse-cowgirl ass fuck, BAM, along comes one of those corner-of-the-screen-characters (mostly Jill Kelly) to dispense overabundant platitudes about marriage being the only war where you love your enemy. Not to overlook similar pearls on the subject straight from the vaults of Uncle Earl and Aunt Jenny, whoever the hell they are.
Shayla's a woman who constantly gets fucked over by "losers" who are "not the lovin' kind"; and Nick East, as a whisky-swigging, self-infatuated country rock star, is the prime cut from that food group.
With nary a nurse or cheerleader in sight, this soaper, along with obeisance to East's song performances, plays it so straight-down-the-middle, you could draw geometric lines with it. Nevertheless, Shayla, for all her pain, manages four scenes which, to some degree or another, put her ass to the test. A girl/girl with Jill Kelly, in particular, finds Kelly's delectable toes in her butt. And East, on at least two different occasions, finds himself sexually compromising Kim Kataine's attempts to be a singer.
As one can expect from Holliday, the heat's thoroughly uncompromising, but know that you have to dodge a field full of cow patties to get there.