Grade: A-

I love drama in my romance novels. Not just sissy, sniffle-inducing drama, but heart-wrenching, gut-twisting trauma porn. I especially love drama that revolves around incestuous wealthy families sleeping with each other and fighting over money. Yes, I know, I know. I need help. One of my favorite re-reads is Shades of Twilight by Linda Howard because it has all the ingredients of the turgid, overwrought, melodramatic trash that I love so much. The most important element of such a story, of course, is the dark prodigal son come home to claim his inheritance. It is a requirement that he is angry, more than a little crazy, holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe, broods as much as he breathes, and the type of man that you’re not quite sure you can trust. He’s the kind of guy who’ll probably sneak into your bedroom in the middle of the night, ravish you, and slit your throat. The story also needs the head of the household–preferably a matriarch–wasting away from cancer or something; in the past, she and the hero have had major clashes, the biggest of which drives the hero away. For added drama, there must be greedy, grasping relatives who are forever plotting against the hero. They are completely useless, leech off the matriarch, and in between snorting coke, having sex with each other, and making insiduous plots against the hero, find the time to heap loads of abuse… on the heroine. The story wouldn’t be complete without the frail and beautiful martyr, who is technically part of the family, but is for all intents and purposes, an outsider (she’s either a second cousin or adopted). She takes care of the matriarch, endures the abuse of her relatives beautifully like Saint Bernadette, and gains the lust and obsession of the hero for her trouble. The two of them almost always have a past where the heroine was in love with the hero as a child and the hero makes out with her–a child–before he disappears. Well, this book has all of that and more… and boy, is it ever so delicious.
(more…)

From time to time, I find myself defending my reading material to my pretentious, hoity-toity friends– you know, the type of folks who say, “As far as I’m concerned, true literature died in the 19th century!” Like get over yourself, Shakespeare. Anyway, one particular friend calls romance novels “nothing more than pornography for women,” and while there’s nothing wrong with pornography, I happen to think that there are romance novels out there that are written well enough that they should be considered literature! However, when I’m faced with a cover like this, I just kind of have to shake my head and sigh in defeat. I have no problem with nudity, alright? There are romance novels out there with naked guys on the front cover that are quite tastefully done and I have no problem with them whatsoever. This… this is just… sleazy. Hell, the story between the covers could be the Next Great American Novel and I wouldn’t know ’cause I’d be reluctant to pick it up. Never mind that it objectifies the male body–Penthouse and its ilk have been doing that to women for years–but… I can’t get over that apple. Look at that apple. How big is that apple that it’s enough to cover this guy’s dirty bits? Seriously! And am I the only one who sees a smiley face on this guy’s torso? The eyes are the nipples, the nose is his sternum… do you see it?

All kidding aside, you guys, how can our beloved genre get the respect it truly deserves when we have to deal with covers like these? I’m almost 100% sure that the author of this book had nothing to do with the picking of this cover and for that, I feel really bad for her. You gotta get your butt to the graphics department, girl, and give those nerds a very stern talking-to!

Oh, and this nightmare was brought to us by Laura. Thanks, Laura!

It’s not often that I just totally lose my shit at the thought of getting my hands on a brand-spankin’ new book reprint of a book I haven’t read by one of my favorite authors of all time. Wait, what am I talking about? I’m a book geek and geeks totally lose their shit all the time over the latest release reprint by their favorite author. Oh, man, I’m so excited that if I were a guy, my pecker would just fly off and sail across the room. That’s how excited I am. JUDITH IVORY HAS A NEW BOOK reprint of a book I haven’t read! The last time this lady released anything was in 2002 and that was four years ago! Do you guys understand that for me, that was FOUR YEARS without a Judith Ivory book? I CANNOT WAIT TILL OCTOBER! Oh, man, what a nice lil birthday present this book will be.

But what about this cover, huh? At first glance, it’s alright. The red really brings out the cover and the gold font is really classy. I even dig the bare legs. They’re a real nice pair of stems, eh? What really bothered me about this cover upon subsequent glances is… the hand! Look at the hand holding up that skirt! The fingers look like they’ve been stuck in a pencil sharpener and… um… sharpened. Aw, I’m just messing with you guys. The cover doesn’t bother me. Huh. Did I just say that?

JUDITH IVORY HAS A NEW BOOK reprint of a book I haven’t read!

Grade: B

A while back, I read a bunch of Lisa Kleypas and pretty much gorged myself on her books. After that, I needed to take a break from her for a while, so this is my first Lisa Kleypas in a few months. This book is also the 3rd in Kleypas’ Wallflower Series–I haven’t read the other two–and stars a stuttering virgin and a profligate, penniless rake who is a rake for no reason. The stuttering virgin, the daughter of Ivo Jenner who was the business rival of Derek Craven in Dreaming of You, stands to inherit her father’s fortune, but her scheming, devious family wants to get their hands all over it, so Evie has no choice but to run away to the most notorious rake she knows and beg him to marry her. The rake, who is penniless and was desperate enough to abduct the heroine in the previous book, gladly accepts because… duh, he’s poor and Evie is an heiress to a large fortune. They get married, Evie tells him that they will only have sex once for the purpose of consumating the marriage, and the rest of the story deals with the hero trying to get Evie to have sex with him. That’s about it. There’s some crap about a syphillitic psycho trying to kill Evie because he thinks the Jenner forture should have gone to him, but it seemed like a throw-away storyline, ’cause really, this book is just about the hero trying to get into the heroine’s drawers. Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with that!
(more…)

Grade: B-

Susan Elizabeth Phillips says this book is “probably the best historical romance ever published” and Glamour proclaims it to be “one of the greatest love stories of all time”. What the hell do I say in the face of such praise? Would I sound like a complete plebe if I said that this book… umm… kind of bored me? It’s original and all and really touching in some parts, but for the most part, it’s just… dreary and heavy, man. Basically, it’s about a dissolute rake who is struck by stroke (heh!) in the prime of his life and the “thee-thou” Quaker girl who turns her back on the only world she’s ever known to take care of him and be with him. The stroke affects the part of the hero’s brain that supports speech functions, as well as his comprehension, so when we are treated to his point of view, we see the dialogue as he does: garbled and incomprehensible. It’s a little frustrating to read, but that’s just the point of it. We literally see how hard it is for the hero and the heroine to communicate because they can’t understand each other. Literally. No, I mean that. Literally. This doesn’t make the book an easy read, of course, as it is especially dense in some parts, but Laura Kinsale can write the hell out of the more emotional scenes, so I was bored AND sobbing like a baby at the same time. Yeah, I know. I can’t recall ever having been so confused while reading a romance novel. At one point, I almost prayed that the hero would magically heal so that he and heroine can have some totally inappropriate sex or something. That would have definitely lightened the mood some. Nothing like bodice-ripping or some man-titty flashing to add some fun into the mix.
(more…)