Imagine This: You are in your late twenties. You used to dream of a job in publishing. You wished to be a writer. But then your mum’s ailment got you tied down to Dublin as you are the only daughter who cares enough of her survival. Your other brothers don’t.
You have no social life. You are pleased to be working in a bookshop that’s close to home. You are used to a colleague telling you to hightail it and go get a life. But who is she to judge when she’s a trust-fund kid with no sense of direction, doesn’t have a mother who is in bad health, and would sell any dieting book to anyone looking for Jamie Oliver’s latest?
You are just pleased writing a blog. A blog about sex. A blog about your inexistent sex life. A blog that has lots of viewership.
An email from a super-hot guy in the publishing circles who’s been flirting with you since twitter was founded appears in your inbox. His request? He’s thinking of making your blog a book.
You are thrilled. Over the moon. The closest to an orgasm you’ve ever had.
But wait! He wants to meet. And might there be any book deal if he finds out you are not the sexy, cocky girl you portray on your blog? You don’t want to risk that. And it doesn’t help that he seems genuinely interested in you.
You must learn how to suck cock. You must learn how to give a good hand job. You must learn how to transform yourself into the sex goddess you’ve always claimed to be online.
Then you meet Luca. Far more experienced in this sex thing than any escort you ever thought of hired.
Before you know it, you are juggling between a fuck buddy who hates clingy girls and a sorta boyfriend who can’t wait to see your prowess in bed. Thank God for the existence of five-date rules!
Claire’s sensuous dilemma summed up for your enjoyment.
Late in September, I found out something. My love for Irish chick-lit. I have read Marian Keyes’ Sushi for Beginners, and Cecilia Ahearn’s P.S I Love You, but those are classics. And would you ever forgive me if I told you I am a total book snob? But then I read Zoe Miller’s A Husband’s Confession and OMG, I had to request more Irish chick-lit!
Clodagh Murphy writes very sensational chick-lit, I found out. This book was released last year and I am so ashamed to put across I’m now catching up on the fun.
I loved, loved this book. So you know in my review, I’d be yelling at you to scout your country’s bookstores and find out if there are still copies available! (If not, go home defeated).
The storyline is fabulous. It’s not fresh. But it’s amazing. Girl has no experience in sex whatsoever. Her first orgasm was inexistent. She writes a sex blog which has been noticed by a doting big-time publisher who wants to get into her pants as much as get her book on the shelves. She meets a man-ho who agrees to give her lessons in all she wants to know and so much more. And what’s more? Make herself confident, and sexy, and sassy, and explore her sexuality. Beautiful! A star to the storyline. ── ★
I loved the heroine, Claire. She’s amazing. The kind of girl so shy she spends hours chewing her lip. The kind of girl who’s only bold when she’s behind her computer and online. The kind of girl who secretly hates being referred to as sweet. The kind of girl who has dreams of becoming a writer she cannot yet accomplish because she cannot fathom leaving her mother to die somewhere along the line despite her brothers have managed to abandon her successfully. Couldn’t you relate to her? Sometimes, it sucks to read books about girls who aren’t confident. But Clodagh Murphy doesn’t portray this to irritating levels that make the reader gets put off. You would adore Claire. A star to her. ── ★★
The other characters also make reading this title entertaining. There’s Yvonne, the trust-fund kid who would sell signed copies of Jane Austen novels to a husband who wants to surprise his wife with books of her favourite author on their anniversary. There’s also Espie, Claire’s mum who’s the bane of every nursing home for throwing parties with booze for all the patients. There’s Mary, the arthritis patient who butchers violin classics just because her joints are a bit weak. There’s the nursing home’s director who has the annoying attitude of using the ‘royal we’ and referring everybody’s mums as hers too. There’s Luca, the sex god who would set your knickers on fire (and I don’t even own knickers, so you can imagine!). There’s Mark, the charming publisher guy who’s doing his best to get through Claire’s five-date rule before sex. Oh, yeah, almost forgot, a super-fave, Catherine, the popular Lesbian mummy blogger who blogs about toilet-training her first when she doesn’t exactly have any children of her own. ── ★★★
The humour in this title was excellent. You would guffaw. You would chuckle. Even during the hot sex scenes, Clodagh Murphy tries to inject some amount of humour that would make readers who are not so comfortable with sex scenes (not like me!) desist from flipping the pages. ── ★★★★
My rating: Four/Five stars.
Clodagh Murphy’s 2014 hit, Some Girls Do, is available on amazon.
I recommend this book to anyone who wants to get something to boost their sex life but cannot get over the embarrassment of moving to the sexual literature section of their bookstores. Anyone who wants a book with a heroine they could so relate to. And anyone with writing dreams or owning a blog of any kind.
My work not done here. Off to post my review on Goodreads.