Umm… what is there to say about this cover that the cover itself doesn’t already say? The girl model (whom I sincerely hope is not the author) looks like a young Melissa Etheridge if Melissa Etheridge liked cock and was aching to audition to be one of the skanks in Rock of Love. What the hell is she wearing, anyway? Is that some kind of jacket with giant bell-sleeves or is that a blanket? Whatever it is, there isn’t enough of it because this ho should really be covering her beer belly. All right, it’s not exactly overflowing out of her… um… garter belt or anything, but I don’t think anyone should bare their stomach to the public unless they’re seriously sporting rock-hard abs a la Linda Hamilton in T2. And do I really have to say anything about the Billy Idol wannabe hovering in the sky? Good Science, look at him. He looks like he’s about to strike a pose a la Lord of the Dance or something. Gross. And check out his massive boobage. Either dude has got to lay off the steroids (or the estrogen) or he should really go see the local gynecologist and ask for a mammogram. Those babies just look like giant mounds of cancer cells or something. That or they’re full of breast milk. Ugh. There’s an image. Mortal Melody. I swear to science, there’s an Amanda Ashley or Christine Feehan book with that title. You know those books: broody vampire guy who hates being a vampire and spends his time brooding and moaning about being a lonely creature of the night and the virginal (ahem), thoroughly naive girl with the emotional maturity of a twelve year old who falls in love with him.  Though for some reason, I don’t think that’s the case with this book.

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