This is the first in a series of erotic, realism based novels where the protagonist never gets laid. It’s called PIZZA LOVE.

If there is anything that 20th century males have been taught by low budget, cocaine fueled pornography; it is that pizza boys get lots of ass. And I mean lots of ass – tons of it actually. I mean we’ve all heard the jokes. Hell, some of us even have the dialog from the scenes memorized.

The lonely Soccer Mom opens the door of her huge three story oak house, an angelic white towel wrapped around her hourglass figure, melting your soul with her sultry blue eyes.

Sure she may already have everything she could ever want – A rich but often neglectful husband who is always out chasing younger ass. Or perhaps she owns the first season of Grey’s Anatomy, which she watches with her other thirty year old, but less attractive girlfriends as they discuss female hygiene, pool boys, and the view.

But alas you, deliverer of pizzas, are what she lacks. Hot loin fire, passion, and the thrill of being with someone half her age that is making a quarter of her husband’s annual salary. You, deliver of pizzas, are probably stoned. You probably didn’t finish high school. You probably have long hair and babble about John Bonham excessively. But you will be goddamned if you are not desperate, eager, and willing.
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