This cover is so attractive that I almost want to buy it. Notice that I said almost. This is the same author who wrote The Girl With a Pearl Earring which I tried to read once while I was standing in line at my local B & N and the first sentence almost made me slip into a coma. Sorry, Spikedru. I know you loved it, pet, but it killed me. I guess I’m a plebian.

I bet there aren’t even any unicorns in this story.

I will admit, however, that this cover is gorgeous. There’s something earthy and classy about it at the same time. It’s like the lady has come undone, no? Her hair’s up, but she’s got a few tendrils that are touching the nape of her neck and her dress is almost off, like… Ah, hell, I can’t do justice to this cover. It’s so damned pretty and elegant.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if she turned around and she DIDN’T HAVE A FACE?

(Thanks again to Spikedru for the cover. Girl, what would my dumbass do without you?)

Take it away, Girlfriend! No, really. Take it away.

Good God: where to start? I have no words. I am bereft of the snark. I got so overwhelmed that I scanned all of this wrapround cover in order to capture its unashamedness. I’m not even sure if unashamedness is a real word, that’s how much this cover staggers me. There are so many questions. So many, many questions. What is up with her boobs? Is he about to try blowing down her throat and playing a tune on her neck like she’s a clarinet? Is that chest hair? Is it possible to rip ‘Gone With the Wind’ off more without calling it ‘Blown Away’?

You know what, buddy? I don’t think she’s even alive. I think he’s attempting to perform CPR on her, but since she’s been dead for three days, I don’t think it’s going to work. Poor moppet, someone should really tell him that the girl is dead. What do they have to do with the other people in the background there, anyway? It looks like the cast of Dallas, no? I love the lady with the giant purple hat and all its purple plumes. She looks like a pissed off drag queen. Bernadette Bassenger would kill for that bloody hat. I bet she’s evil. Evil people wear the best hats. I bet she’s the wicked step-mother who kicks our intrepid heroine out of the mansion and our intrepid heroine was forced to find work at a bordello as the cleaning lady where our dashing hero mistook her for a prostitute. And dear Lord, is that Snidely Whiplash? What’s he doing there? Shouldn’t he be tying some damsel to some train tracks or something?

Damn, this girl is on a roll!

I ended up explaining to the nice people in the PDSA charity shop that I was not planning to read the books, just scan the covers. One looked doubtful, until I held up this.

Look at her, lying there like she’s got tv consumption in a flannelette nightie and greasy lank hair. And he looks like a evil landowner type from a western. He looks like he just came into town to find out the only whore left has gone to bed with PMS. But it’s the first Saturday of the month, goddamit, and he wants his oats. And she’s like “I don’t want to, but maybe if we do then I can afford to get some better decor in here”.

I was going to make Terri Schiavo joke, but I think it’s too soon, yeah? Dude, I don’t know what Mills & Boon was thinking when they designed this cover, but it’s just… sick and wrong and makes my skin crawl. I think this might have been a date rape situation and homeboy in the mortician suit just finished putting his clothes back on and the girl on the bed? The Demerol has not worn off.

From my buddy The Hot Piece of Ass from the UK:

Check out the hair. His hair. You can tell he’s just taken off his helmet and shook out his locks in a “hey, ladeez” way. He is so up himself. I bet he’s been listening to too many stories about Camelot and reckons he’s the reincarnation of Lancelot. Also, his wristguard is tied too tight, making a vein pop out on his bicep. I like a wristband on a man, especially a leather one, but not so tight it makes you look like a junkie hunting for a vein. Also, I doubt the historical accuracy: this is meant to be 1280, yet we have heaving man-titty combined with shiny L’Oreal hair.

Hmm… I did not know that waxing your chest hair was so fashionable in the Dark Ages. Did the other knights make fun of him, do you think? Maybe they called him a “nancy boy” and whenever he’s not looking, they stole the “nancy boy hair gel he likes so much” and hid it. Check out the dame standing behind him. I bet she’s peeved that he’s late again for their date because he took so long fixing his stupid hair. Obviously, she doesn’t care about her hair as much as he cares about his. Look! It’s all frizzy and shit.

Good God, why is Sebastian Bach holding a ball of flame in his hand? Has the peroxide gone to his brain and now he no longer recognizes that fire is bad? Just look at the way he’s mesmerized by that thing. It’s like no one has ever told him, “Fire bad. Tree pretty.”

And I don’t understand why the art department would give him blond highlights that would put Ginger Spice to shame. Look at them! That shit is salon-done. This fool spent like 80 bucks on them suckers. If he’s a biker (and that’s a pretty pussy bike he’s on), I bet all the other bikers make fun of him and push his bike down when he’s not looking. Also, his “chest muscles” look more like orange foam than real bulk. This cover makes me sad. I still bought the e-book, though. I’m a fool.

ETA: Why do I suddenly have this urge to yell “Flame on!“?