Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Alert Bitchery reader S sent me an email pointing me to some wonderful examples of dumbassery, AND a contest spawned by dumbassery. In the Smart Bitch world, there is no higher honor given than to those who come up with a fine competition out of someone else showing their behind.

Seems Blaze Jennifer LaBreque weathered of the experience of a scathingly mean review on Amazon.com. The reviewer, J. Wallace, was particuarly offended by an opening scene, and said “[s]ome may rush out and buy it, and any author who can convince her publisher to run with this deserves the income.”

Owwwwlch. One swipe and down go the readers, the publisher, the editor AND the author.

Now, one might quirk a brow at a Smart Bitch quirking her own brow at such a low blow in a review. I must point out that when we Bitches write a review, we are careful to pay attention to the plot and not the people behind it, and we rarely harsh on the author. There are exceptions to that rule, reserved mostly for authors whose books steadfastly and savagely suck up to stale stereotypes, but for the most part, we try to review fairly and explain why when we raise the scimitar of stank.

So while you may be thinking our pot may seem to be throwing glass houses at our kettle, I will continue with this fabulous tale.

Seems La Brecque has a damn fine attitude about such things, and says, “Gee I wish I could PAY her for that review,” because J. Wallace didn’t reveal the disgusting plot point that so turned her stomach, and in refraining from doing so, spurred sales of LaBrecque’s book.

And LaBrecque writes,”I don’t usually come with a money-back guarantee, but I’m making an exception in this case. If Ms. Wallace will stop by my table at RWA’s National Literacy signing (she’ll be there, according to her website), I’ll have $6 in cash with me at my table to reimburse her. That should cover the cost of the book, tax, and the mental/emotional trauma she obviously suffered during the read. She can keep the change for her scintillating review because I suppose I really should pay her.”

But then, Alison Kent explains the oh-so dishy and fascinating part of the story: not only does J. Wallace plan on attending RWA (per her own website, which several readers found by clever use of Google) but she’s an aspiring author whose manuscript is indeed in front of the very editor whose publishing house she offhandedly dissed in her review.

All together now: DOH!

I wonder if the query letter read, “You shouldn’t have bought that. So buy this instead!”

Alison was also clever enough to do a random drawing for three copies of Highland Fling which, of course, folks are clamoring to read, because if there’s hot naughty bits, we are ALL OVER IT. After that excerpt on Alison Kent’s site, I want to read this book. Srsly, once you have a whiff of that fine eau d’controversy, there is nothing better for sales.

Read this on Dear Author today: the latest issue of Romantic Times mentions several authors behaving badly on on-line forums. I recognized all three instances of bad behavior. Not too surprising, since one of the kerfuffles originated on Smart Bitches, and we linked to the other two.

Also: we’re a controversial romance blog. SWEET. *makes theremin noises*

Darlene sent me this link - it’s just too good not to share, she said. And she is so right.

Which would you rather - a RealDoll or a Teddy Babe?

It’s a toss up - the Teddy Baby is “soft and kissable” and her butt is round, sexy, and “spankable.” And when you’re done with the kissing and the spanking, you can cuddle up like you would to a teddy bear. Or you can experience what they affectionately call “pussy velour.”

Gosh. I need a shower, for both me and my eyeballs. I think that will be the next Smart Bitch marketing tool - a hot pink eyewash station shaped like a man-titty. Because everyone who clicks that link will need it. 

If you haven’t read it yet, head over to Dear Author and check out this piece on Dara Joy and what seems to be her descent into...well, lies, breach of contract and general batshit looney-tunesiness.

I have greatly enjoyed the high camp and silliness of her work, but never bothered to buy her self-published books. They seemed like a pretty sketchy enterprise at best. I’m now very, very glad that I went with my initial instincts.

Monica Jackson is offering to sell voodoo dolls of various reviewers, made by a real black person.

(Puh-leese. This is so silly. We all know there’s no such thing as real black people. Monica, it’s time for you to come out: you’re actually a gay man of Norwegian/Scottish descent living in Maine.)

Anyway, frankly, the thought amuses me. If I had any clue how to license this sort of merchandizing, voodoo dolls of Sarah and me would be frickin’ AWESOME. And I’d buy the Mrs. Giggles and Bam dolls and set them on little altars with offerings of chocolate and pictures of half-naked hunks. (That sounded a lot less creepy in my head, I swear.) But dammit, I guess I’d have to give a cut to Monica for her idea.

The rest of the post is also worth reading. Monica calls MaryJanice Davidson a wimpy white girl and hilariously skools her on how to deliver a proper smackdown. Awesome. People, this is what we need: more good-natured (if pointed ribbing), less hysterics over essentially...nothing.