I’m trying to recall ever reading a romance novel where the hero didn’t have a huge cock or the heroine didn’t have a
“very tight” vagina.
Where do these
humongous-penis-men live and who are these women with tiny coochies? I can tell you that no man has ever said “you’re so tight” to me. Not even the first guy I had sex with—of course he had a weenie wiener so maybe nothing would have been too tight for him LOL.
Another of my romance book sex concerns is women that “feel” men ejaculate inside them. Last I heard this was virtually impossible because women have almost no nerve endings in their cervix wall. (Can you imagine birth if we actually did? *YIKES*) Then, care to explain how it is that these heroines are always feeling warm/wet fluid gushing inside them? I, personally, have NEVER ever felt semen hitting anything inside me.
I wish that for once an author would write a book about a man with a tiny cock and an erectile dysfunction and a woman with a vagina as big as salad bowl who could not orgasm. They both have to be gorgeous though or I’m not reading it. Am I asking for too much?
Labels: cock fetish, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
What can be more fun than poking at badly written sex scenes? *g* This is why I soooo love the
Bad Sex Award, not because it aims to recognize the worst description of sex in literature—and to discourage it (as well they should; bad sex scenes should be ILLEGAL)—but because this is one of those instances where Romance gets to laugh at the face of those “literary” snobs. Ha! Take that, you stupid sex writer wannabes!
One of the
lucky contenders this year is
Will by
Christopher Rush. I swear it has
more than enough purple prose to make
Fabio’s lance of love to leap around like a shower dropped in an empty bath:
O glorious pubes! The ultimate triangle, whose angles delve to hell but point to paradise. Let me sing the black banner, the blackbird’s wing, the chink, the cleft, the keyhole in the door. The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim—I’d come close to it now, this sudden blush, this ancient avenue, the end of all odysseys and epic aim of life, pulling at my prick now, pulling like a lodestone.
Anne Hathaway’s cow-milking fingers, cradling my balls in her almond palm, now took pity on the poor anguished erection, and in the infinite agony of her desire, guided it to the quick of the wound. At the same time I searched wildly with the fingers of my left hand, groping blind as Cyclops, found the pulpy furred wetness, parted the old lips of time and slipped my middle finger into the sancta sanctorum. It welcomed me with soft sucking sounds, syllables older than language, solace lovelier than words.
The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim? What, no slippery waterweed? *shock* Gabaldon will have a fit! Oh, well, I was sold at “o glorious pubes.” :P
Her hand opened me. Then her hand became a wing. Then everything about me became a wing, a single wing, and she was the other wing, we were a bird. We were a bird that could sing Mozart... I was sinew, I was a snake, I changed stone to snake in three simple moves, stoke stake snake, then I was a tree whose branches were all budded knots, and what were those felty buds, were they antlers?
Huh? Me thinks—call it grasping at straws, if you will—this is a sex scene??? *verra confused* Erm, Ali Smith thinks it is. I haven’t read Girl Meets Boy; I’m guessing the story is about a girl who meets a dude who’s a shapeshifting bird-like Mozart-fan hippie and they smoke some crappy hash.
Anywho, the Bad Sex Award can’t be complete without some pervy author obsessing about the vajayjay. We’ve already established that no matter what the man’s intentions are, his main goal is always the same: to get between her legs. (C’mon, I DARE you to deny it. *g*) Apparently, the bush on top of it has its own wow-wow-wee effect. Here’s a snippet from Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart:
Her vagina was all that, as they say in the urban media—a powerful ethnic muscle scented by bitter melon, the breezes of the local sea, and the sweaty needs of a tiny nation trying to breed itself into a future. Was it especially hairy? Good Lord, yes it was. Mountains of kinkiness black as the night above the Serengeti with paprika shoots at the edges—the pubic hair alone must have clocked in at half a kilo...
Was it especially gagging? Good lord, yes it was! Eheh. Probably why, in The Stone Gods, Jeanette Winterson suggests that inter-species illegal sex with a robot—who has a silicon-lined vagina fetish—is the way to go. And she has a point! Look at this quote from Richard Milward’s Apples:
She had on no knickers, and my heart went crash-bang-wallop and my eyes popped out. She hadn’t shaved, and her fanny looked like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet.
“So, you just gonna sit there?” Abi asked, and I laughed nervously. I was hardening up... but my heart wasn’t into it—her cunt smelt a bit like an armpit, and when I pulled the lips open I knew I’d have to shut them numerous times or else I’ll die of Aids or I’d fall into it.
Dude, honestly, WTF? Heaven help the stupid fuck who might think my fanny smells like an armpit and looks like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet. Swear to Xenu, I’d shoot him in the head and then plunge a dagger in his heart to make sure he’s fucking DEAD. Hi-yah! *karate chop-chop*
Whatever. Fucker. :@ The winner will be announced today where passages from the books will be read aloud by actresses, hopefully with “a commotion of grunts and squeaks, flashing unconnected images and explosions of a million little particles.”**
**From last year’s winner, Twenty Something by Iain Hollingshead.Labels: bibliophile’s affair, fucking around, ooh la la fabio, sex and the bitches
I love romance novels but
I have no love for its covers, particularly the likes of a
groping couple riding some legless horse or a huge beribboned mountain goat. Still, I gotta admit—IF I WAS FORCED TO, like I was trapped in a cave on a deserted island somewhere with no
handy porn or a
BOB—I could probably fiddle with myself
while imagining some hunky hero on
some romance novel cover art. But this... this...
Erm... *ahem* I’m not gonna lie to you; I’m thinking I’d get better results imagining some platypuses humping than picturing
George Clooney and
Fabio gettin’ it on because JFC, I’d die laughing!
Fabio has a big problem with birds. First he was humiliated and bloodied after a flock of ducks collided with his face as he rode a roller coaster. A few years later, he was attacked by a flying bird again after his date tried to take a picture of George Clooney sitting at a nearby table. I was seduced by the idea of Fabio and Gorgeous George embracing on the cover of one those cheesy romance novels Fabio used to pose for and I was overcome with the burning desire to paint it. Breathlessly, I held my pen and allowed the tantalizing image to pulsate through my body and onto the paper. Swoon. Medium: ink on paper, digital color and collage.
Here’s a page torn passionately out of Fabio and George’s romance novel Birds of a Feather. Written by Candace Kirby, it will leave you begging for more. (Source)
Labels: celebs crap, fucking around, ooh la la fabio
Oh, good lord in heaven! And here I thought Trollop getting caught playing the dirty nurse with two
half-man half-amoeba dudes was the funniest breaking weird news evah!
On Friday, Clooney and gal pal Sarah Larsen were having dinner at L.A. eatery Madeo next to Fabio and a group of women. All was well until one of Fabio’s pals started taking pictures of her friends. According to numerous eyewitnesses, Clooney, assuming the woman was taking snaps of him, asked her to stop—prompting Fabio to explain that the shots were of his group, not Clooney, and to tell the superstar, “Stop being a diva.” Clooney started arguing back, and he and Fabio then got into a shoving match. (Page Six)
I would never have dreamt this, not even in my wildest, twisted, perverted dreams. It has to be written in some empyreal law—somewhere in the rainbow—that Hollywood’s Numero Uno Stud and the King of Romancelandia shouldn’t be calling each other *gasp* DIVAS! And what exactly happened next? Did the shoving match escalate into some bodice ripping with heaving bosoms and shoulder-length locks yanking?
Also, how’s it possible that Fabio can afford to eat where George does? I had no idea romance cover models made that much money; I’m seeing Fabio in a whole new light, baby! That burned hair and those greasy pecs aren’t looking so
synthetic-buttery now... *g*
Labels: celebs crap, fucking around, ooh la la fabio
I just have to ask, seeing as even Harlot asked me what the “Jimmy Fingers” were: Does no one else here
treat her/his body like an amusement park after reading a very dirty sex scene in a romance book? Because if it’s just me, I’m in serious need of counseling LOL.
It doesn’t happen often but when it does, it’s quite fun, my chickies. *g*
Ok, I just have to add this piece of disturbing material I found while googling “romance novel masturbate” to see if there was some extra info I could include in my post and, OMG, this is what some Christian dude had to say on the subject:
My alarm clock read 6:30 a.m. I had an hour before I needed to get ready for church. I crossed the room to my dimly lit closet and rummaged though my secret stash of paperbacks until I found the cover that showed a wild-eyed, barely dressed couple clinging to each other.
After flipping through several chapters, I turned to a graphic sex scene. Sexually excited by what I’d read, I locked my door. Then, I masturbated for the first time. For a while, I’d been curious about whether sex felt as great as the couples in these books seemed to think. [...]
When I picked up that romance novel, I hadn’t planned on masturbating. I simply followed my body’s urges to what seemed like a natural release. But that first experiment soon became a habit [...]
But I couldn’t stop. I almost always ended up locking myself in my room when I read a romance novel. Eventually I didn’t need the books; the images packed into my brain were available anytime.
Oh, good lord. *groan* Romance novels will never be the same for me again. *ACKKKKKKKKKK* I hope I’ve equally disturbed you so I’m not the only one with the nightmares tonight LOL.
Related: Labels: ooh la la fabio, romance baby, sex and the bitches
I’ve been bored to tears all day. Funny how I have so much work to do, refuse to start on it and choose to be bored out of my mind.
I decided I’d kill some of my boredom by cleaning out my computer—which, oddly enough, I love to do. Halfway through my methodical and almost mathematical PC cleaning process, I found this in my blog folder:
What the fuck? I have no idea what I was going to use this for except to disturb you guys as much as I’ve disturbed myself. I thought for sure this was some sort of fake “funny” cover but, no, my friends, this is an actual cover and a real author.
Blazing new trails in experimental fiction is a top priority for Dara Joy. Her novels break all the rules and have captured a huge audience. Her unique works have gone on to receive numerous awards.
Awards? Perhaps they mean something her kids put together out of cardboard paper and glitter.
This poor woman is obviously hated by the Cover Fairy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so much cover fug together LOL. These men look like out of work porn stars from the 70s!
Related: Labels: ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Oh, good lord! I thought for sure
Harlequin had stopped printing books with ridiculously long and embarrassing names. Who even buys these things? Forget the covers, *cringe* how do you answer someone that you’re reading “The Spanish Prince’s Virgin Bride”? I’d be mortified to be found reading any such thing LOL.
**How that baby is secret is beyond me. That woman is about to give birth right on the Mediterranean Billionaire’s fancy carpet!Here are some other titles and you can buy them
here:
- The Tycoon’s Princess Bride by Natasha Oakley
- Willingly Bedded, Forcibly Wedded by Melanie Milburne (This is a sick twist to JKR’s prose on HP4 when Voldemort is returned to his body.)
- The Greek Tycoon’s Virgin Wife by Helen Bianchin (Why must they all be virgins? Is that back in fashion? LOL)
- The Italians Defiant Mistress by India Grey
- The Billionaire’s Passion by Robyn Donald
- Innocent on Her Wedding Night by Sara Craven (Innocent of what exactly?)
- The Boss’s Wife for a Week by Anne McAllister
Related: Labels: ooh la la fabio, romance baby
You guys remember Trollop’s post about her
quest for a sheikh? Now, have any of you been able to forget this
bloody ridiculous *snigger* poster?
Some very dubious heathens questioned if we’d made that poster up (like we’d do such a thing!). And of course, Trollop, to wash her hands off any guilt, threw me to the lions and suggested that I—innocent in all of it *innocent sniffles*—was the reason behind such attack to the eyes and the senses:
“Harlot was nice enough to find that pic for me. Though for all that is good and sacred I don’t know what she thinks I’m looking for in these Sheikh books. Whatever it is though it will not be a guy with a turban wearing more makeup than a ho who apparently was clawed by a lion! Not even that, he’s not even the Sheikh, just the son! I will not be fooled by impostors!”
For the record, I resent implications that my agenda is to make fun of magical oh-so-glorious sheikhs! *hmph* Honestly, (as Danielle has put it) who wouldn’t want a son of a sheikh named Rudolph Valentino? :/ But then, it started a storm of questions: Why does the sheikh—I’m sorry, *ahem* I mean the son of the sheikh—has deep gashes on his chest? Why is he glaring at the poor lass? Why is the lassie kneeling? Is she praying? Oh lordy, praying for what? Gack, what what?!?
Curious Bitches that we are, Trollop and I wanted to know the answer as well, heh. We considered asking sheikh lovahs who’ve seen this 1926 silent film what the story was behind the picture. But, hmmm... what if we made our own story instead? :D Mm-hmm. That is, with the help of our lovely readers!
Alright then. Put on your thinking turbans and imagine this is a book cover art instead of a movie poster. If you were to make a synopsis for a romance novel out of it, what would the blurb say? *g*
Here’s another poster that will shame Fabio and every strand of his frizzy hair. *muahhaha* Between The Son of the Sheik and La Fille Sauvage (me thinks it means “Dead Woman Hanging” :/), you get the opportunity of a lifetime! Yep, that’s right, you get to choose one of these posters and write a blurb for it and then, for the love of clawed makeup-loony sheikhs, share with us, you wenches! :P
Related: Labels: fun and games, ooh la la fabio
Did you ever wonder what the purpose of male nipples is? Yes, I know, nipples serve as a proof that they’re mammals since the distinguishing features of mammals are suckling their offspring and having hair. (Since men cannot breastfeed—euw!—where do bald dudes classify? Reptiles? :/)
But if the male species don’t have a use for nipples, why do they have them then? Is this why, despite Barbie’s unending horror, they were banished from Ken’s chest? (Not that he has a penis either—trust me, I looked!) You know, there are some male horses that share fate with Ken. Stallions, despite being known as sexual beings, do not have nipples.** So, if stallions could be without them, why do men have to have it? Why all that male nipples?
In the world of romance, there’s no doubt of the power of the male nipples. Romance authors have great reverence when it comes to those two throbbing peaks LOL. Not only there are different synonyms associated with it, there are also unending list of adjectives for describing it, things that it can do, and, yep, things to do with it. Uh-hmm. *g* What? You don’t believe me?!? *gasp* Fine, let me show you.
Adjectives
When describing the male nipples, romance authors have a lot of words: coppery-tipped, delectable, erect, hard, protruding, pulsing, swollen, tightly beaded, etc. Some examples are: “delectable velvety nipples,” “tingling, quivering, tight nipples” or “erect, protruding, wet, throbbing dagger-point nipples.” My personal favorite is “sensitive, distended, pulsing, supremely ticklish and tingling, plump nipples.” OMG, that’s a lot of adjectives! LOL Actually, there are many more combinations; I could go on, really. :P
Synonyms
Referring to them as just “male nipples” seems so impersonal. I think they consider it more, er, romantic if you use “throbbing peaks” and “tight buds”? *confused* Anyway, other popular alternatives used by romance authors are: bare tips, heated buds, peaked center, pebbled crests, proud nubbins, quivering/rock-like points, sensitive peaks, shimmering buds, stiff pebbles, thrusting points, tiny rigid nubs, velvet peaks... I swear I’m not referring to a cock!
Things that male nipples can do
You know why the male nipples are special? Because they just don’t “ache,” they “ache with need.” *g* Others include:
- apices to swell and harden
- brushed across
- erection
- grew large or rigid
- hardened in empathy
- peaked
- puckered
- rigid with desire
- rise
- shivered erect
- spring to attention
- swelled
- throbbed
- tightening to pebble hardness
- tingled
Things to do with male nipples
Heh. Now we’re talking. *g* Okay, I’m pretty sure the most common answer would be to “suckle” them. Or they are “sucked.” What’s the difference anyway? Is “sucking” more erotic or sexier than “suckling”? Hmm... I guess so since “suckling” makes you think of a nursing toddler? Oh good god!—I don’t want to think about that while I’m sucking someone!!! Er, *ahem* “licking” is also a popular thing to do to the male nipples. Here are some of the things romance authors make their heroines do to the men’s “aching, hardened nubbins”:
- captured between her lips
- caressed
- flicked
- gently sucked
- kneading
- lashed into hardness
- licked
- nibbled
- pinched the hard little tips
- probed
- rasped hungrily
- rolling his nipples gently
- rubbed
- sucked the tortured peak
- taking it between her teeth
- taste
- touched
- tugging gently
- wetting his nipple
- whisked it with her tongue
You know, *tapping foot* after all these euphemisms, I still don’t know the fucking purpose of the male nipples. Of course I know they are erogenous zones but that’s not a purpose. I’m starting to think male nipples only exist so men could continue fending off charges of reptilianism!
**I’ve only read about this fact. Hello??? There’s no way I’m checking out a stallion’s chest, it’ll fucking trample me to death! *shudder* Also have to point out I haven’t seen a bald stallion either. That’s probably why they avoid being called reptiles... :/
***Photos by: Felipe Lessa
Related: Labels: cock fetish, fuckalicious, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
We are barking up the wrong broomstick America! We don’t need to fear Harry Potter. We need to focus on who we know to be at the heart of evil in this country: Fabio.
Fabio created an unfair playing field for all men married to women who read those romance novels. (...) Fabio doesn’t do all that stuff. If all I had to do is ride in on a horse and pose for some young beautiful woman—well actually that would be cool, but come on, even Fabio would wear thin sitting on his butt watching football while the yard grass needs cutting.
I know, I know, Fabio would look just fine on a hot summer day doing yard work and all that but six months later he would be out of shape, loudly burping in front of your parents or saying: “Puel my feengur.”
I’m not sure whether the author is implying that those who think Harry Potter books promote witchcraft to kids are as equally moronic as those who say romance novels are bad for womenfolk, or his beliefs are that romance novels cause women to have unrealistic expectations about their love life? *confused*
There’s a classmate of mine who laughed when she found out I like reading romance books. She, of course, is a literary snob and an ignorant ugly twat to boot. I told this to a friend who went to say romance novels shouldn’t be looked down on (which I agreed); however, they do lead to fantasies that usually end in disappointment when faced with “real life.” Er, I’m sorry but, WTF?!?
I discovered romance novels through JM’s Something Wonderful. Even before I finish it, I knew for certain I was hooked. That was four years ago and until now, I still love reading romance. Now, during those four years, I got involved with someone very seriously. Did I expect him to be exactly like Matt Farrell? Fuck, no!
Don’t get me wrong; if he actually turned out to be a clone of Matt, I’d have probably been married by now because there’s no fucking way I’d let him go! LOL But of course, that’s also NOT the reason why it didn’t work out between us. My point is, romance novels do make us dream about love, imagine the kinds of relationships we want for ourselves, and yes, even fantasize what life would be like if we actually were the heroine in one of these stories (with better wardrobe, please). Still, I never expect the men I meet to be exactly like the “heroes” I find in the books. Like any sane woman, I have high standards, yes, but they are still realistic ones (except the owning my own castle one :/). Come on, I’ve never for once thought that these stimulating love stories with brooding alpha males is how I will live my life. (I.e. No matter how much I love reading about tortured heroes, the thought of being with one makes me shudder—we’ll probably end up killing each other!!!)
My brother loves superhero comics and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe that Superman will come to the rescue every time he’s in trouble. The same thing with readers of mystery novels. Should they all be paranoid expecting a serial murderer to attack them in some street? What about sci-fi fans? Do they really expect aliens to take over the Earth?
I’m not saying that stories from romance novels can’t be real; of course they can. What I mean is, I think most women are capable of distinguishing fantasy from reality, and that, a smart woman would know reality matters not if one cannot dream. I don’t expect the man I fall in love with to vanquish all my enemies, scoop me up on his horse (most probably called Pegasus or Black Thunder LOL) and carry me off to his beautiful castle. But there are times just the mere smile of the man you love can make your knees go weak and you tingle all over. I’ve had great relationships and part of it has been because of my love of romance.
Reading romance strengthens my conviction that women should be treated with passion, tenderness and respect... that my desires aren’t sinful and don’t make me unclean (that’s 20 years of Catholic school for you LOL)... that even if I’m not yet married, as long as I take care of myself, as a woman, I am entitled to sexual pleasure (I also learned some *ahem* bedroom tricks :P)... and that, sometimes, even with all the trouble life gives us, we triumph over difficulties.
I don’t know about you guys, but has reading romance been bad for me?
Not for a New York minute!Labels: harry potter nutter, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
The Book Bitches are proud to present the hottest, the dreamiest, the most fuckable piece of male ass that ever graced the cover of a romance novel...
Gruffydd ap Hywel**
(or as Harlot calls him “you so fine I is wetting my knickers” hottie)
We’re sure these babies are going to be flying off the shelves! I bet they even come with a BOB warning inside! LOL
**No, I swear on my mama’s name, this isn’t a joke. This is an actual book cover! *cringe* Were I to find something like this in a bookstore I’d run the other way screaming! That guy is a fucking nightmare (pun very much intended LOL).
***BTW, it isn’t my intention to hurt the author’s feelings. Maybe she had no input whatsoever in this cover (and thinks it’s fuglier than Orlando Bloom in a leather cat suit too) but couldn’t do anything about it, hence not linking her website.
[Added 5:37 pm]
Harlot here, editing to add this photo done by Trollop after I said her darling Gruffydd reminded me of a giant. I swear, am verra innocent in all of this!
Labels: for the love of rakes and rogues, fucking around, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Last month I collected a
list of penis terms that put the purple in romance heroes’ cocks. *g* And no, I didn’t make them up! Really, just scan the sex scenes of books that were first published during the Fabio era and I bet you’ll find some of those euphemisms! In any case, after that article, many have asked, “Harlot, what about the vajayjay?”
I think it’s safe to say that the ultimate difference between the sexes is found between the legs (unless you have a genetic glitch and have the choice of who does what to whom :/). Now, that distinction doesn’t stop with looks, functions and
the way you should stroke—er, perform. Eheh.
Women might love cocks like a favorite toy or a delicious trinket (especially when it’s coated with Nutella :P), but men, despite *ahem* all their faults, are OBSESSED with vaginas. It seems that the puss is not only the “center” of every female but also the “center of paradise” for every male. Why, no matter what his intentions are at the beginning, the end target is always the same: to get between her legs! Here are some examples:
- She has an amazing body. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- She has a body. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- She’s very smart and witty. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- She’s as dumb as a post. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- She has the most sensual, sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- She can’t talk. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- I like her, really. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- I love her and want to marry her. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
- Hmm, looks like it’ll be a sunny day. Gee, I’d like to get between her legs.
Of course there’s the possibility I’m exaggerating, but somehow I doubt it LOL. Anyway, I’ve gathered some coochie terms that romance writers have devised to describe the female anatomy. Well, we don’t want the men to be left out with the dirty talk now, do we? *wink*
- apex of her legs
- blonde/red curls between her creamy hips
- center of paradise
- cleft betwixt her thighs
- curly mound of tawny hair
- curly nest at the junction of her legs
- damp, moist needy place
- deeper heat within
- delicate softness
- door of her femininity
- downy mound
- entrance of her delight
- fiery furnace
- golden flesh
- glistening portals of her womanhood
- guarded place
- hot sleeve of love
- hot, wet sheath
- hot pool
- into her body
- lily
- loins
- moist heart of her flower
- moistness between
- molten need
- most secret places
- most sensitive spot
- most special of places
- most tender flesh
- most treasured pearl of passion
- mound of Venus
- nest of desire
- nether lips
- passion-moistened depths
- petal-smooth center
- petal-soft folds of her womanhood
- place even warmer and wetter
- private satin flesh
- pulsating core
- receptive body
- secret parts
- silken warmth
- slick wet heat of her
- slick wetness of her excitement
- slippery softness
- stretching walls of her body
- sweet warmth
- tight depths
- warm, dark haven
- warm damp entrance
- wetness and heat
- where she most ached for fulfillment
- where she was moist and desperate
- where she was soft and yearning
- womanhood
- womanly wet heart of her
I’d like to end this list (which, really, won’t be complete without this quote) with something from one of my *ahem* “favorite” books evah, Outlander. *g*
“Jamie! Not here!” I said, squirming away and pushing my skirt down again.
“Are you tired, Sassenach?” he asked with concern. “Dinna worry, I won’t take long.” Now both hands were at it, rucking the heavy fabric up in front.
“No!” I replied, all too mindful of the twenty men lying a few feet away. “I’m not tired, it’s just—” I gasped as his groping hand found its way between my legs.
“Lord,” he said softly. “It’s slippery as waterweed.”
Labels: die outlander die, nutella lovah, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
You guys remember our little discussion on
clinch cover art in the comments section of my “
What the Fuck?” post? Well, look what I came across while digging for information on the new
Paradise cover.
Here are some very
interesting and informative thoughts Judith McNaught shared with readers on her SS bulletin board:
Why are we suddenly seeing romance/women’s fiction novels, including mine, with couples clinching on the covers?
The answer is: Because recently, publishers noticed that a clinch cover seems to increase the sale of a book.
That’s probably because clinch covers stand out sharply among the mind-boggling masses of romance novels which for years have been covered in flowers, houses, and other artful, tasteful, but repetitive images. As many of you have witnessed for yourselves over time, publishers are quick to notice a best selling novel with an innovative cover-art treatment, then they react by immediately imitating it until all the book covers on all the shelves become virtual look-alikes. That situation remains true until an Art Director somewhere comes up with another innovative cover for a bestseller, and then the whole frenzied process starts again. Until that cycle completes itself once again, I think we’ll probably be seeing more and more, and more, and more and more, of these clinch covers every month.
So if you’re one of the people who dislikes those covers (as am I), I’m afraid we’re in the minority. When it comes to product sales—ergo profits—corporations are interested in appealing to the preferences of the majority of buyers, not the minority.
Hence I ask, which one of you is lying about hating clinch covers? How can we “haters” be a minority when not one single person I know has ever admitted to liking them? Actually, all I ever hear is something along the lines of: “They’re embarrassing and I hate them,” and/or “I wouldn’t be caught dead reading a book with a clinch cover in public.”
So, fess up, you lying clinch cover lovers! It seems you’re a majority and there’s safety in numbers, we won’t hurt you. *wink* Might make fun of you though LOL.
I also found this very peculiar:
There’s one more equally logical explanation for this proliferation of explicit/sensual/whatever covers: There’s been a tremendous increase in sales of highly erotic “romances,” such as those being published under the Eldora’s Cave imprint. Just a few years ago, no one wanted to publish these same novels, but I understand they’re big sellers now. Maybe there’s a correlation between women’s desire for erotic content and their seeming preference for these overtly sensual book covers.
I haven’t had much experience reading erotic romances (or is it erotica? I always get those confused) and we all know how my experiment with Passion went, but most covers I’ve seen from Ellora’s Cave and Changeling Press would not be considered the “clinch” variety. So I’m wondering if she thinks non-erotic romance publishers are trying to compensate the lack of hotter sex in their books by adding hotter covers? That doesn’t make much sense to me...
Your thoughts—and confessions!!!Labels: contemporary por amor, dame judith mcnaught, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
I think we’ll all agree (unless you are verra, verra weird) that sex scenes in romance novels are absolutely and positively non-negotiable. And I don’t mean just any ol’ half-assed sex scene; it has to be a well written, come in your pants HOT, drool falling down your chin, smoke coming from under the covers fantabulous sex scene! And we all agree, in order to achieve that we’ll need a penis,** right? A hard one at that too.
As a normal hot-blooded young
skank woman who appreciates—and demands!—the maximum amount of lovin’ permitted by state law, *g* my answer will always be a resounding “Yes!” Especially if said penis is attached to an oh so shagable bloke who’s capable of ravishing me until dawn. Oh my... *sigh* Er, *ahem* kind of got sidetracked there LOL, back to the topic at hand: the penis.
So, I was reading Passion by Lisa Valdez when I came across this:
His blood coursed and his cock throbbed painfully. So painfully, that he glanced down. Christ! His prick was so big; it looked frightening even to him. The head rose dark and purple from the top of his reddened shaft, yet no moisture escaped to soothe his stretched skin. He was dry, dry and hard as steel.
“Does it hurt?”
His sac felt heavy. “Yes. Does it frighten you?”
This made me wonder how crazy you’d have to be to let that guy and his penis get within ten feet of you! descriptions*** for erections and/or references to the penis have evolved since the days romance books were first published. I mean, in times of Mr. Darcy, and then later on, Rhett Butler, terminologies like “rock hard” or “bursting the seams of his trousers” were a most definite NO-NO. But in this day and age, these expressions are tame compared to a number of the stuff I’ve read. I know you won’t believe this, but some have even made a shy maiden like myself blush a time or two!
I’ve put together a list of the most common euphemisms authors use instead of the clinical penis or the raunchy cock. Some are funny, most are embarrassing and a few of them outright scary! LOL Which ones are your favorites? *g*
- phallus
- maleness
- male member
- virile masculinity
- his source of heat
- hot flesh
- scorching loins
- love’s sweet arrow
- sword of his desire
- towering lance of love
- fiery brand
- fullness
- hardness
- hard male heat
- rock-hard male loins
- his driving need
- his tumescent tube of fire
- hot bulging manhood
- hot distended flesh
- hot swollen shaft
- sinewy length of him
- iron-hard tumescence
- aroused flesh
- raging monster of his lust
- throbbing love machine
- heat-seeking moisture missile
- blatant, aggressive, magnificent arousal
- bulging erection
- burgeoning shaft
- oh so aching cock
- his eagerness
- pulsing core
- pulsating manhood
- erect rod
- engorged inflamed sex
- growing arousal
- evidence of his arousal
- evidence of his own instant bulge
- mounting molten member
- rapidly growing shaft
- love tool
- the bald avenger
- intumescent member
- stirring manhood
- straining masculinity
- straining, thick and strong against his pants
- the dragon of his desire writhed beneath his tight-stretched trousers
- rousing erection
- swelling in his loins
- swollen big dick
- rigid/turgid part of him
- rock-hard schlong
- hard pulse of his arousal
- hardness of his burning loins
- thick engorged shaft
- throbbing aching erection
- thrusting possession
- thrusting poweful hardness
- huge fucking cock
Can you imagine me asking a guy if I could “massage his tumescent masculinity”? I don’t think he’d even know what the hell I was talking about! I’d have to clarify and explain to him that I was referring to his “mountain molting member” just so there’d be no confusion!
**Unless it’s female-female type of romance, then dunno how they manage. :/
***A description like that would frighten even Tracy Lords, for crying out loud. Didn’t you hear from Trollop what ten-and-a-half-inch monster Mark (the hero) has???Labels: cock fetish, ooh la la fabio, romance baby, some like it hot
This is the new
Paradise cover.
The shoreline, I take it, is Chicago.
That seems to be a balcony of sorts. Where you might ask? I’ve not one clue.
But who, pray tell, are those fucking plastic looking individuals in the front? Ya know, the shadowy couple getting it on in the top part of the cover art?!?!
I want someone to explain to me why Ken’s teenage gay lover is clinched to the orgasmic brunette in a book where Matt-the-sexiest-hottest-hero-ever and Meredith, who is BLOND BTW, should be posing!
WHO THE FUCK ARE THOSE?
I HATE THIS COVER. *GRRRRR*
[Added, 23 August 06]
Editing to quote Judith McNaught’s thoughts on the new Paradise cover:
Due to a communications glitch, I had no idea there was going to be a new cover [for Paradise] until I opened a piece of mail forwarded to me from Houston and pulled the actual cover out of the envelope. (Normally, I would have seen the proposed cover artwork well in advance and approved or rejected it.)
As to the cover itself, I don’t know what I think—except that the faces on it don’t fit my image of Matt and Meredith. It’s a striking color, though...
... The new cover for Paradise, with the sudden addition of “faces” on it, is the first time that’s happened to one of my books, and to be brutally honest, the male model they used doesn’t look like my idea of Matt Farrell at all. Besides that, he looks 25 instead of 35. What’s much worse is that, on the actual cover, his lips and eyelids are so dark that he almost looks like he’s wearing lipstick and eye shadow. To sum it up in one short sentence, the guy creeps me out.
The female model they used is very pretty, but she has dark-ish hair. Meredith was a natural blond with a “Grace Kelly” kind of perfection to her features. Despite those two differences, I don’t object to having her face on the cover of my book.
Labels: contemporary por amor, dame judith mcnaught, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Apparently, unbeknownst to Trollop and me, millions of people have been voting online from March through May on
who would replace Fabio as the new romance king for I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! (Not that Trollop and I would’ve voted... Hmm, come to think of it, maybe we would have! LOL)
The event, hosted by Fabio and webcast at tasteyoulove.com, challenged the hunks to act out romantic scenes with members of the audience. A panel of romance experts including Fashion Emergency co-host Leon Hall, associate editor of Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit issue MJ Day, and bestselling romance novelist Eloisa James, judged the show.
So who is Fabio’s successor, you ask?
Greg Vaughan, the soap star who plays Lucky Spencer on ABC’s
General Hospital.
Unlike my
sushi-addict Trollop, I don’t luuurve soap operas LOL, so my first thought was: Who the hell is this poor guy? Hence, I did a little research on him who will soon be serenading every butter-laving romance junkie.
Name: Greg Vaughan
Birthday: June 15, 1973
Birthplace: Dallas, Texas, USA
Eye color: brown
Hair color: brown
Hobbies: skiing, hiking, roller-blading, windsurfing, and horseback-riding; singing and playing his guitar
Pets: a labrador, Daisy
Additional info:
- Greg was a model before he was an actor. He did some campaigns for Gianni Versace, Tommy Hilfiger, Banana Republic, and Ralph Lauren.
- His first major acting role was on the prime time series Malibu Shores. He also had a role on Beverly Hills 90210, and made guest appearances on Baywatch, Buffy, and Will & Grace.
- He appeared in the movie Poison Ivy: The New Seduction in 1997.
- He was named as one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive in December 2002.
- He played neighbor Dan Gordon, Piper’s (Holly Marie Combs) love interest, in the TV show Charmed.
- He used to date his former Charmed co-star, Alyssa Milano.
- Greg has a sweet tooth for cake.
This Greg guy is in no way close to MY
Raoul’s level of hotness; still, I’ll say, he’s definitely a big improvement after Daddy-o Fabio, don’t ya think? (Did I seriously just say “daddy-o”? Oh god, *groan* kill me.)
“Fabio’s shoes will be hard to fill,” said heartthrob Greg Vaughan. “He truly exemplifies the fantasy and romance of the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! brand. I’m very excited to be crowned the King of Romance and can’t wait to be a part of the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! team.”
“I wish Greg the best of luck in becoming the heartthrob to thousands of adoring fans,” said the long-term romantic icon, Fabio. “He proved to be a true romance role model. But fans shouldn’t count me out yet. After all, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! is like family to me and family is never too far away.”
Thank the good lord we won’t be seeing the last of HRH Fabio!!! Whew, got worried there for a sec! In any case, for you, King Greg, here’s a big curtsy** (watching for my boobs not to spill out of my tight purrty corset). May you rule with twice the sweet cream buttermilk for even more fresh butter taste. Naturally cholesterol free, of course.
**I apologize for Trollop’s absence, your majesty. She’s still in our humble manor, laughing; apparently hearing your speech and keeping a straight face is beyond her, that heathen!
Labels: fuckalicious, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Ladies, I received this through email yesterday, and thought it would be nice of me to share with my fellow Fabio-obsessed bitches (especially Bawdy). Now, I want all of you that apply for the incredible opportunity to meet with this fabulous man and his magnificent, if frizzy, head of hair to come back and let me know. No reason to be shy or embarrassed; I promise I’ll only make a tiny bit of fun of you. *wink*
Labels: ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Cover art is one of the most influential aspects of a book, but unlike other literary genres, the face of historical romance novels has evolved little since the “bodice ripper” covers became popular in the mid-eighties. For over two decades the “clinch”** has been the established symbol for romance; and it has to be said, it does nothing but give it a bad name.
As a romance reader, I admit that I’m terribly embarrassed to be seen in public reading a book that depicts Fabio (ickkk!) or any of his clones. These covers usually have a bare chested man with a flowing mane of frizzy hair, clutching a woman—whose “milky bosoms” are popping out of her dress—to a ledge, or somewhere equally absurd, like: pinning her to a tree, swinging her off a horse or groping her on a rock by a river, etc.
These covers are not only ridiculous; incredibly, they are also completely inaccurate. Never do they show any hair on the hero’s body, while in the story the author can’t seem to stop giving us descriptions of his “thatches, thickets or pelts” of chest hair. A heroine might be described as a Plain Jane with mousy brown hair, and the cover will illustrate a hot broad with flaming red hair that usually defies the laws of gravity and flows behind her in the air. There might be a white horse, half flying off the ground, and the story is about pirates at sea (never is a horse, or any other farm animal, mentioned in the entire novel).
You HAVE to wonder where the editors and/or authors of these books are, and how do they let this happen? Isn’t it bad enough that their books end up sporting
Rico Suave and Britney Spears’ look-alikes, but do they also have to find random models that do not resemble the descriptions of the characters in the least?
You have to admit, they’re begging me to make fun of them. And since I’m a most obliging bitch, I say, let’s get it on. *g*
**For those of you who don’t know, a “clinch” cover is one in which there is a half naked heaving couple, tightly embracing each other, with orgasmic expressions on their faces.
Tickle Me Fancy
Harlot got this cover for me—no idea how she finds this stuff. I refused to add it to my list because, in all honesty, this looks like a joke. She then send me an Amazon link as proof that this book was in fact marketed and sold in stores with this exact cover (is it any wonder that romance novels are considered no more than tasteless porn?).
I have not read it, neither do I have any idea of what this novel is about, but I’m guessing there is a scene where the hero tittie fucks the girl? Someone who’s read it, let me know about that scene! Why are they naked in the wilderness? Does he comment at any time about those leaves tickling his ass, or did he stand there with that purpose in mind? I’m guessing sex toys weren’t that common back then and he had to make do with the natural resources they had in hand..?
Also, could someone explain to me why most of the cover models in these books seem to have some sort of bone debilitating disease? They’re always falling all over the place. It’s like their legs can’t hold them up, so the guys have to drag them around like rag dolls. You’d think the romance industry could afford to hire healthy models who can stand by themselves, hmmph!
The Virgin Mistress and the Well-Endowed Sheik
No matter what else a desert story entails, the heroine will always be a feisty virgin, and the hero, most often than not, will be hung like a horse.
The couple on this cover has nothing on circus acrobats. Just look at the way he’s riding that horse while still being able to hold on to the ripping blonde with the orgasmic expression—and all this with one hand, ladies and gentlemen. Not to mention that, to be able to hold on to that woman, a man would need an iron claw stuck high into her ribs. But wonder of wonders is that this horse has not toppled to the side and squashed them both to the ever after!
My biggest problem with these kinds of covers is that they blur everything in the bottom, so you have no idea what is going on beneath. Where are the horse’s legs and the woman’s feet? Are we supposed to believe that they are flying gracefully behind her and not dragging in the sand, giving her some serious injuries? Give me a fucking break! This lady will probably be missing at least a toe by the time this “joy” ride is over LOL.
Viking Fabio and the Inflatable Doll (Each Sold Separately)Original cover:
Season of the Sun by Catherine Coulter
This isn’t really a “clinch” but I had to use it. Any Fabio cover deserves to be ridiculed without mercy, but this one is so preposterous, even I (heartless bitch that I am) have started to feel sorry for him. This is by far the fugliest cover I’ve yet to come across. And that, let me tell you, is no small feat.
My first thought after seeing this cover was, that these people were burn victims who survived a fire. It was the freezy, burnt hair that led me there. Either that or they’d been badly electrocuted, which now seems like a more feasible option since they are walking on water. Hmm, he does have that sword and all that jewelry that is very conducive of electricity. Very dangerous, Fabio—you should have realized that!
I am almost positive that the woman in the picture is a doll of sorts. Look at that blank plastic expression she’s sporting. It’s like she’s not feeling the cold from the water, the ache in her arms from dragging that canoe (or whatever it is she’s holding), and worse even, she apparently doesn’t notice that Fabio is pulling her along by the hair. Unless that’s a wig, how can she not feel the hair being ripped out of her skull by that farcical Viking???
Labels: for the love of rakes and rogues, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Retro Bitches
Originally published on November 15, 2005
We’re going to be republishing our favorite old posts. We have so many new readers now, and we know a lot of you don’t search through the archives. So, we’ve selected a few articles for your enjoyment.
◙ The martyr heroine.
◙ Sex too soon; kills the tension.
◙ Heroine who is smart through out the whole book then suddenly gets case of stupidity.
◙ I hate that marriage and kids are expected in order to have a HEA (like women who don’t want one or the other are incomplete).
◙ Hero who rapes heroine (or anyone else for that matter!).
◙ Hero who physically abuses heroine. This is as bad as Tart’s evil homosexual villains who are also pedophiles (see below).
◙ Heroine who won’t leave abusive hero because she “luuurves” him. Spineless and stupid.
◙ Character who keeps insisting other is having an affair even when they don’t have any proof. Moronic and insecure.
◙ Heroine who’s a widow but still a virgin. Oh please! Except if the guy was killed just after he said “I do” (like five seconds off the altar), I won’t take it.
◙ Hero who’s much older. Like he’s 40 years old and the heroine is 17. Iiick!
◙ Having TOO many hot scenes, interrupted by REALLY stupid and annoying things. Just shag each other already, for fuck’s sake!
◙ Heroine (though has had sex) has never had an orgasm and/or enjoyed sex before hero comes along. Unless this woman has no hands, and lives in a god forsaken village in the last corner of the world where she can’t buy a vibrator, there is no excuse for this!
◙ Badly dressed characters. I.e. a guy wearing shorts paired with t-shirt and jacket, or shorts with long sleeved shirt. *gag*
◙ The double personality disorder characters. A hunky and masculine hero that, after reaching the middle part of the story, turns into a spineless ninny. Same for heroines.
◙ Rushed endings and/or things left unresolved.
◙ Pointless flashbacks. This really gets on my nerves!
◙ When characters are forced together for a stupid reason, like: heroine’s great grandmother’s cat died, so she HAS to move in with the hot neighbor (who just happens to be a pet psychologist) to get over the loss. Give me a fucking break!
◙ Sissy heroines that spend half the book crying, while mentioning how they NEVER cry. I want to bitch slap them.
◙ Heroines with a bush. This is not only disgusting but unhygienic. Any mention of “the moist triangle that guarded her secret entrance” makes me gag or laugh, depending on how ridiculous the scene is. (Recently read a book in which hero literally curled his finger in girl’s bush!!!)
◙ The heroine that looses her virginity to hero, doesn’t see him for 10 years, never has sex with anyone else, and then when they meet/fuck again confesses it. First thing that comes to my mind is: “This woman must be damn fugly if no one has been willing to stick their wily in her ‘moist delta of love’ in all this time.”
◙ Characters who often mistake pride for stupidity (Clayton Westmoreland comes to mind).
◙ When the hero is an utter asshole, and the heroine, after being humiliated and yelled at, actually begs HIM for forgiveness. These women are stupid enough to have some idiotic reason of why it’s really THEIR fault and how they probably deserved it.
◙ Characters who start making out with morning breath. Ick!
◙ Babies/children. I don’t like cutesy kids. They tend to come off more annoying than cute. I don’t find babies or children remotely romantic, so will avoid any books that mention them, or at least skip the kid bits of the book.
◙ Pregnant heroines. Especially heroines that are pregnant to another man who is not the hero.
◙ Books that end with a wedding and children. Please, let me decide when that happens. I don’t need to be spoon fed everything. I’m in the minority here, but I don’t like epilogues LOL.
◙ Virgin widows. There better be a damn good reason for this! A major pet peeve of mine. I’d much rather read about a widow who had a loving relationship with her first husband.
◙ Hero/heroine that somehow manages to have a few rounds of sex while on the run from evil serial killer or chasing evil murderer. Not sure about you, but I think if I was being chased by some dude like Ted Bundy, the last thing on my mind would be sex.
◙ Vampires/shape-shifters/other blood sucking heroes. Euww. Can you imagine the blood breath? LOL I don’t find vampires cool. Mostly they seem so stupid.
◙ Secret babies. Dumb plot line usually accompanied by a dumb heroine.
◙ Stupid titles i.e. The Fake Sheik’s Virgin Mistress or The Greek Millionaire’s Secret Baby LOL.
◙ Heroes with hairy chests that are described as “thatches, thickets or pelts.” Euw... Are they men or fucking Big Foot? Definitely NOT hot.
◙ Purple prose. No more man roots, manhoods, deltas of love, moist tunnels. If they don’t want the clinical (penis, vagina) or the raunchy (cock, pussy), then use something a bit nicer like, um, erection!
◙ Historicals that are inaccurate. I’m not expecting to read an encyclopedia, but a bit of depth to the background would be appreciated.
◙ No mentions of contraceptives. At least a mention of it, either condoms or the pill, particularly in a contemp. I read Karen Robards’ Paradise County and there was no mention of birth control at all. All I could think was, for some intelligent nice people, they sure are FUCKING insane for having unprotected sex. Dumbasses.
◙ Evil bad homosexuals who are also *gasp* pedophiles. Robin Schone in particular uses this characteristic far too many times. Why does evil bad gay guy also have to be a kiddie perv? Can’t they just be plain old evil gay?Labels: bibliophile’s affair, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
Covers are probably one of the major deciding factors that I use when buying books. Obviously the author, reviews and the back blurb also factor in, but a good cover is like icing on the cake (mmm, cake).
I’m pretty fussy when it comes to covers. I know what I like and I certainly know what I don’t like. I never vote in the Cover Contest over at
AAR, because I usually find all the covers hideous LOL.
Historical Romances
I refuse to buy a historical novel with a clinch cover. Especially if the cover have any (or all) of the following:
- A hero with a billowing shirt
- A hero with a billowing shirt unbuttoned down his chest showing man titty
- A hero with no billowing shirt at all
- A heroine with a dress with sleeves falling down her arms
- A heroine in a dress showing an alarming amount of boob (often it is difficult to decide who has the bigger tits, the heroine or the hero)
- A heroine with long flowing locks that defy gravity and manage to float in the air around her
- A hero and heroine in a decidedly uncomfortable pose
Which is why the books with these covers will probably not find their way onto my bookshelf.
1. Is it just me, or is the guy decidedly jaundiced looking?
2. No shirt? Check. Man titty? Check. Flowy locks on horse? Check.
3. There’s snow on the ground and it must be freezing, but that doesn’t stop our stalwart hero from discarding his shirt for a cape! And I love the fact that the heroine has a shoulder baring dress teamed with long gloves. You know, keeping your hands warm is so important, you don’t need to worry about your neck or anything.
I don’t like pastel covers with flowers or houses/gardens or pearls or stars either. Too bland, boring and generic. And pearl necklaces** have a different connotation for me so I snigger whenever I see a pearl necklace on a cover.
**It’s sex related.
The two covers below caught my attention because they are nicely coloured, well photographed and have a slight mysterious quality (it’s the headless thing I guess).
Romantic Suspense
I’ve noticed that the recent trend seen on many romantic suspense novels known as The Running Couple (TRC) has disappeared. Books by Suzanne Brockmann, Linda Howard and Iris Johansen usually have/had covers with TRC.
I’m glad to see TRC go, it was unimaginative, stock-standard and cliche. Now TRC is slowing being replaced by The Shadow Couple (TSC).
I really don’t like these covers either. It’s just a modern version of the clinch cover. I think they’re trying to portray a more atmospheric, moody, and therefore suspenseful feeling. But they just don’t work for me. I find them dull, wishy washy and (ha!) shadowy which is hard on my poor myopic eyes.
Contemporary Romance
I usually find that most contemporary romance covers either feature flowers or scenic views. Nora Roberts has really ugly covers that never work for me.
So twee. Yawn.
I like the covers below, they’re whimsical and fun, which is exactly what the stories are.
Chick Lit
Chick Lit books tend to have fun, quirky and cool covers. Though I’m over the cartoony covers, which I find are hit and miss.
Without knowing anything about the authors, or reading anything about these books, just from looking at the covers below, I’d buy these books.
The second one especially, looks hilarious.
Paranormal
Many paranormal books have covers that are darker, edgier (you know, to like mirror what’s inside LOL). I find a lot of paranormals have a male cover model. In the examples below, this is a bad thing.
The cover model on Dark Need looks too much for Tom Cruise for my liking. I don’t want to read a book where I’m constantly reminded the hero looks like a jumped-up little midget with a god complex. Sherrilyn Kenyon’s book features one of the least attractive men I’ve seen. And he has stringy and frizzy hair. Eeuw.
If you’re going to have a male model on the cover of a paranormal, let them be more along these lines...
The cover model on Master of the Night is one gorgeous man: strong face and luscious lips... lovely. The Helen Kirkman cover appeals because I’m intrigued by the tattoo and the medallion (and okay, I also appreciate a hunky chest LOL).
So, what are some of your cover loves and hates?Labels: bibliophile’s affair, ooh la la fabio, romance baby
