by SB Sarah • Thursday, May 15, 2008 at 07:30 AM
Want toga porn? Joanne Renaud has a whole page of stola-tastic cover art from a bygone era, complete with a rather fascinating though short discussion of historical accuracy and the construction of historically-correct Roman clothing.
Speaking of clothing, and extra sleeves, I took a look online because I have decided that I would love to own a copy of the three armed heroine, as she is my avatar. Come on, what women do you know who wouldn’t think seriously about the advantages of an extra arm every now and again? Heads up - if you own a copy you might get three figures for it. Damn, Beavis. That’s nearly $99 per arm!
And thanks to Meghan for this link: NPR explores the idea of “mathematically impossible” using… wait for it...vampires. Yup, your favorite overpopulated genre and mine, used to illustrate electoral media coverage. How very awesome.
by SB Sarah • Tuesday, May 13, 2008 at 10:55 AM
Bitchery reader Paul did some mad Photoshop action on the hot stepping leg model, and look at what he came up with:
I did some quick Photoshop work to test your theory about the leg model and the trenchcoat. You’re 100% right, it’s the same model. See attached (I cut off the left leg, changed its angle, adjusted for the same skin tone, and then filled in the gaps).
The “Girl’s Guide” cover designer had a few more changes - impossibly flat toes in those new stilettos, and softer muscle definition on the legs.
Now, aside from the fact that there’s no way the leg model has thighs that wide that aren’t airbrushed into impossible thinness, Paul is totally onto something here. I also think that trenchcoat model’s shin - the one marching up in the air - was thinned out through the magic of editing as well. I’m fascinated by the art of retouching on the whole, and of how much of it goes on. But special note to cover designers: as Bitchery reader the high stepping lady can be used with some degree of effectiveness.
And speaking of seeing double, Bitchery reader Tez is dying to know if this is the same stock image:
In this corner, we have the re-release of Marta Acosta’s Midnight Brunch at Casa Dracula:
And in the other corner? Keri Arthur’s Embraced by Darkness.
Tez says, “Never mind that the right is left, and the left is right...I’m convinced these amorous couple is the same.... Never mind that Riley Jenson is a redheaded Australian and Milagros de los Santos is a black-haired Latina hottie… Or am I losing my marbles in this respect?”
I dunno - Tez’s marbles are on the line. You be the judge - is this the same couple?
by Candy • Tuesday, May 13, 2008 at 03:50 AM
It’s hard to beat a good old-fashioned clinch if you’re looking that delicious taste of WHAT IN THE FUCK in the morning.
So here. Have some delicious WHAT THE FUCK this morning.
Candy: He looks inordinately pleased that he’s broken her hip, doesn’t he? Maybe because it means she can’t run away from his swarthy charms as fast as she used to.
Sarah: A new facet of Native American culture that I didn’t know about: ear wax, it is teh sexxey.
At least, that’s the only explanation I’ve got as to why she’s posed such that he’s gazing down her ear canal.
Candy: Good lord, people! What’s with all the poor freaked-out horsies on romance novel covers? Is every day Throw A Rattlesnake in Front of Your Horse Day in Romancelandia? Jesus, do I even want to know what kind of euphemism “rattlesnake” stands for? (Or is it, in fact, a spitting viper?)
The guy, on the other hand, looks surprisingly sanguine--indifferent, even--at the prospect of having his neck snapped in short order, because given the way his shirt is flailing in the wind, I seriously doubt he’s keeping his seat for much longer.
Sarah: The reins are to the left, his ass is to the right, his jacket’s off his middle - and UNH! Down he goes! I hereby invite that horse to take a bite of this moron, because he’s a disgrace to horseback riders everywhere.
Unless what we’re seeing here is Outraged Horsie’s Revenge, as we witness the opening moments of Mr. Stallion whipping Captain Bonerdeath around by the reins and tossing him into the nearest embankment.
Candy: She looks awfully blissed out for somebody who’s getting her upper back humped by a gym monkey. Maybe because he’s putting a vibrating cock ring to novel uses? Or maybe it’s all part of a new Sexy Chiropractic Adjustment regime--the, uh, staff of manliness is utilized as a lever?
Aww, using your cock therapeutically--if that doesn’t say Twu Wuv, I don’t know what does.
Sarah: Ah, the ice dancing romance novel cover art series. This is book 1. Stay tuned for the covers for book two and three, based on ice dancing’s more advanced and certainly cover-worthy poses.
by SB Sarah • Monday, May 05, 2008 at 03:07 AM
It’s that time of year again: the 2007 slate of covers in the Cover Cafe’s annual Cover Controversy contest are up, ready for your votes and comments. If ever I’m having a shittastic day, I go back into past cover contests and gaze at the wonderment of covers gone horribly horribly wrong.
This year, the slate of worst covers is pretty damn good, and by “good” I mean, “Eager to make you say WTF were they THINKING?” Kensington Publishing, you are getting a monster load of publicity out of this year’s contest, lemme tell you, because damn. And whoa. And holy crap. So here we have Candy and Sarah trying to figure out which one gets their vote for the worst cover of 2007.
Sarah: There were some gawdawful covers last year. I can think of a few that turned my stomach to an even deeper yogic twist than some of these, but I have to say, as a slate of terrible, this slate is pretty good. Not great - there were plenty that were much, much worse - but on the whole, not bad for badness. I didn’t upload every single one, since some of them weren’t really poor enough to be among the worst. So here’s our slate.
Candy: I’ve seen worse, to be honest, and I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand: it really does seem like publishers are finally learning and moving away from the fug. Some of the Worst Cover nominees from 2006 and 2005, for example, I actually liked--but then I dig the comic book look and don’t find comics embarrassing the way some of the commentators apparently do. On the other hand: I derive a certain measure of delicious masochistic pain from the terrible covers, and lots of belly laughs from the ensuing commentary in the contest. Less fug = less fun. The genre wins, but my selfish side wants the cheap laugh, goddammit.
That said: There are still quite a few gems from this particular batch.
Also: when you’re done looking at the snark, head over to Cover Cafe and cast your vote.
Candy: So THIS is what it looks like when Cousin Itt gets a trim and tries to fuck a tribble! Hawt!
Sarah: Nothing says “oh yeah” like necking in the fiery depths of the earth’s core while feeling your skin slowly melt from your body. Hawt indeed!
Candy: Great. You know Cinemax is starting to run low on ideas when they start resorting to “When PR Interns Go Wild” for the late night softcore offerings.
Sarah: The car! The car is tilting at a not-even-closer-to-horizontal dizzying angle and they’re about to roll off the cliff into a fiery oblivion! Wait, apparently they’ve identified the problem and are going out with a bang. You’d think they’d hurry up and get themselves horizontal already.
Candy: Holy shit! My first thought: Post-op tranny love. And goddamn, that sister wasn’t shy about specifying exactly how big she wanted her bazooms to be.
Sarah: We’re moments away from knowing all there is to know about The Crying Game, with bonus DVD features, like this instructional shot that demonstrates how to grab one’s falsie like Wilson Phillips and hold on.
Candy: We’ve snarked this cover in the past, and I want to reiterate: Come on, Kensington. FOR SHAME. If you advertise big, spankable asses, we want big, spankable asses. We want thunderclap-worthy asses. (Warning: video mildly not-work-safe.) That ass? Not even worthy of a static shock.
Sarah: Not big. Not spankable. Not even close. And if the problem is with the title and not so much the cover image, then I expect “Baby of Shame” to make next year’s slate.
Candy: Oh my God. Between the contrast of the unnaturally perky, clean-cut blonde chick being groped by Gomez Addams’ creepy younger brother (I get the impression he sells used Kias for a living) and the looming house in the background, it’s like Amityville Horror meets the Osmonds.
Make the screaming in my head stop, mommy. Please?
Sarah: Apparently, after the wedding, someone went on a meth bender while operating Photoshop without a license, and this was the result. A bonafide disaster.
Candy: You know, other than the fact that that’s way more skin than I want on the front cover of my book, there’s nothing too horribly wrong with this cover. It’s soft-focus softcore cheesy, and I can practically hear the smooth jazz playing in the background and breathy moans as I look at this, but compared to the other covers, my sensibilities haven’t been ripped out, ripped into shreds, danced upon with three-inch stiletto heels and set on fire.
Sarah: Nothing says, “This book has sex in it” like two people on the cover having sex. Thank you to this book for making it that much more difficult for me to defend accusations that romance = porn.
Especially with the jizztastic explosion of water going on behind her, there. If he orgasms that forcefully in real life, well, no wonder he has to hold onto her by the longhairs. She probably doesn’t have any short ones.
Candy: Touch of Madness? Well, yes, I believe necrophilia is typically a sign of SOME sort of pathology--especially when you start going for the ones who are starting to rot.
Sarah: I can hear the book trailer now: He’s creepy and he’s cooked -EEE!. She’s zombified and ookey. This sure don’t look like nookie. Clamp and Adams, scaring me.
by SB Sarah • Tuesday, April 29, 2008 at 10:24 AM
Some old-school cover gems from the woman who perfected the “If she can tell the difference between the identical twins, it must be twu wuv!” schtick in Romancelandia.
Sarah: Ah, yes, the historical version of “Before He Cheats.” Instead of digging a car key into the door of a pretty souped-up four-wheel drive, she’s going to put his head through his own lute because he got way, WAY too merry with his band of merry men.
Candy:: He thinks she’s paralyzed with desire; she’s just hoping that this George Hamilton wannabe’s sunless bronzer doesn’t rub off on her skin or her clothing.
Sarah: Nothing says ‘Historical romance’ like a poly-cotton nightgown from JC Penneys, circa 1982.
Candy: He looks mildly brain-damaged. She looks like a Real Doll. It’s a match made in heaven!
Sarah: There had so better be a disclaimer at the back of that book stating that no horses were harmed in the creation of the cover art, because it looks like they’re dropping to the earth from about 30,000 feet up and the horse is the only one who has recognized their imminent landing.
Candy: I’ve talked before about the bizarre physics at work in romance novels and how it affects hair. This one just straight-up confounds me. Unless the guy is a humanoid Van de Graaf generator, I’m at a loss to explain the heroine’s hair. (The hero’s hair--and appearance in general--can pretty much be explained by an inordinate love of man-sauce, I think.)
