Monday, 7 October 2013

"Guilty Pleasures - The Food and Fornication Fables" by Manuela Cardiga

Manuela Cardiga's forthcoming Novel "Guilty Pleasures"!


Gorgeous, narcissistic, self-absorbed Lance Packhard is a sex therapist specializing in Awakenings, helping anorgasmic women find sexual fulfillment

Lance’s spare time is dedicated to the cult of his body-beautiful and writing a how-not-to book titled “Sensual Secrets of a Sexual Surrogate”. His personal life consists of Sunday tea with his grandmother, and a monthly night-out with his best-friend, George. Oh, and no sex, none whatsoever…

When a ruthless mother offers him an enormous sum to seduce and impregnate her 36 year old daughter, Millicent Deafly, a debt-ridden Lance hesitantly agrees.

However, Millicent is not into sex, and definitely not into him. She’s chosen the other end of the sensuality spectrum and is heavily into food. She is bright, bouncy and joyous, uninhibitedly plump and natural and completely dedicated to her palate. The only way Lance will get her attention is if he dabs garlic oil on his nipples...

Determined to get close to her, Lance creates an alter-ego - sweetly shy Wilfred Pecklise - and takes a job at her Dinner Club, Guilty Pleasures.

Guilty Pleasures caters to the flamboyant and the eccentric: super-models pigging out, trash-metal rock stars with penis-piercings and their loving grannies, the survivors of dead billionaires, and many more oddities…

Lance finds himself immersed in a sensuous world of scents, tastes, and color, and befriended by Serge Moreno - a homosexual black dwarf who was once a prostitute in Istanbul, a fluffer in skin-flicks in Vegas, and is now a celebrity Chef in London…

Ironically, Lance’s is not only failing to seduce Millie, but falling madly in love with her.

Balancing the two lives: his and Wilfred’s, his alter ego's; becomes next to impossible when his geeky best-friend George suddenly ups and marries a sophisticated French author, and decides to hold the reception at Guilty Pleasures.

Will the terrible truth be revealed?


Lance Packhard, sex therapist, the world’s number one G-spot sleuth and premier undercover man, was flummoxed. Never in his long career had he been faced with such a challenge.
Millicent Deafly—his mark—ignored him. Him. It seemed almost impossible. Instead of eyeing his magnificent body, Millicent was lasciviously fondling a cucumber. Her eyes misted. Her delicate pink tongue flicked over her pouty lower lip.
“Yes. Oh, yes!” she whispered. “Tonight, yes . . .”
Lance had spent the last hour following her through the local supermarket trying to get her attention, to no avail. Millicent ignored him at the fruit and vegetables section, and at gourmet cheeses he deliberately brushed up against her back, murmured an apology in his huskiest bedroom voice, and accomplished nothing.
Undeterred, he followed her to the wine section, where he attempted prolonged eye contact. Alas, she always seemed to be looking in another direction, and Lance found himself trailing her into the Seafood Court. There, he liberally doused himself with a powerful pheromone spray he usually avoided using because of the unpleasant side effects.
But again nothing happened. 
All he got was a serious skin rash from the pheromone spray and a multitude of lustful supermarket attendants—not all female—insisting on giving him a “hand.”
Lance should have known when he first saw Millicent that she was trouble—big trouble. In fact, he should have known before. He’d never been hired by a mother. Husbands hired him, lovers, concerned friends, even someone’s boss once, but never a mother.
Something in the almost always competitive mother/daughter synergy precluded a mother from fixing her daughter up with a man she fancied herself, and let’s face it, Lance was well aware that all women fancied him. From his dark, silken hair to his sinewy—and talented—toes, he was regarded as prime genetic material, and he had improved on nature’s bounty. He worked out four times a week—running for an hour each morning before sun-up—and rigorously watched his diet. He used a moisturiser, a hair conditioner, and carefully barbered his muscular chest and abdomen, while cultivating a becoming three-day scruff. All this was in addition to a six-foot-three lean and mean frame, a sculpted face with dreamy green eyes, and a sulky, sarcastic mouth.
Everything about him screamed absolute bastard and he came across as absolutely irresistible.

And what happens when an irresistible object collides with an indifferent target? Something’s gotta give . . . 

Look out for Guilty Pleasures from the 5th of December 2013!

On-line, in a book store near you, or in your own kitchen...

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