Everyone knows who Fabio is. He’s the ultimate cover model and little peons like John DeSalvo can just go ahead and bow down before him. They can only wish they were as great as Fabio once was… you know, like before that bird incident and the butter-shilling gig. Man, Fabio looked great back then, didn’t he? Shut up, I’m being serious. Sure, he probably killed the ozone with the amount of Aqua Net that he used on that mane of his… and sure, he’s got silver dollar nipples… and alright, I concede that he wrote this book like I wrote The Great Gatsby, but just look at him. Don’t tell me you’ve never rubbed one out to Fabio (I haven’t). Don’t tell me that if you were a medieval maiden with long, flowing, auburn locks and a heaving bosom, you wouldn’t positively swoon at the sight of him. Oh, you totally would. Shut up.

Grade: A-

Lisa Kleypas has been writing romance novels for close to a hundred years, but for some reason, I only started reading her stuff. Actually, I know the exact reason why I never read her stuff. When I first got into historical romances, I specifically hunted the ones with dukes, marquises, earls, and viscounts; I didn’t want to read it if the hero was less than a viscount (go figure). This is also the reason why I never read American historicals. The first Kleypas book I had ever encountered was Dreaming of You. I read the back blurb, found the hero to be common (and was not secretly a nobleman), and dismissed it. I thought to myself, “Eww, a thug for a hero,” and refused to read it out of principle. This is also why I don’t read anything with a sheriff, a private eye, or a bodyguard for a hero. Yes, yes, I’m a snob. Anyway, I’m glad I started reading Kleypas because I found this book… whose hero has a hook for a hand. That’s so fucking hot.
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Dear Scott,

I’m not going to lie to you. Your latest movie sucked. In fact, we almost fell asleep watching it (Tim, Ann, and I). It was so bad that we actually cheered when the credits rolled. Your acting was SO HORRIBLE that when you got impaled by that rusty pipe, Tim actually shot up from his seat and whooped with joy. The audience clapped with appreciation. I, on the other hand, cringed and winced in pain for you. You were so cute and talented in Felicity, but now I’m starting to wonder if you were just really good at it because the part of Ben was specifically written for you, and ergo was not much of a stretch. I will admit that I wasn’t expecting Oscar-caliber from this movie, considering that the first one sucked monkey balls, but I was really hoping that this time, you’d… have more lines or something. Instead, you just stood around and looked pretty (really pretty), like the awkward, useless girlfriend in these movies… and then Ms. Beckinsale saved your ass a lot. Thank God you got nekkid. That was sweet.

Tim, on the other hand, was just hoping to see Ms. Beckinsale’s bare titties.

I was actually considering dumping you for McDreamy, but… I’m gonna go ahead and give you a second chance.

Because I heard you have a giant schlong.

Love,
Bam

Thanks to reader Carin for this!

I think mapletree7 is right. His sword IS cutting into his shoulder. Look at that. That sucker is cleaved right into his collar bone. That’s… disturbing. I like that the blurb says, “He would claim what was his, by sword… or seduction”. Man, I hope he’s going to be claiming a shirt because it looks pretty cold in the background there and he might catch hypothermia and die. Also, his pants are a little high in the waist, aren’t they? They’re actually covering his belly button. What’s the matter, buddy? Where’s the flood? Oh, wait, it’s behind him, and it’s called an ocean.

Check out how serious his face is, like he’s thinking, “Boy, I hope they wrap up the shoot soon because this sword is killing me. I think I may need a band-aid.” I also dig the tribal arm-band. Those are the British isles behind him, right? What kind of tribes live in England?

Wait a minute, the British isles? What the fuck am I even talking about?