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

It seems the vast knowledge of the Bitchery when it comes to all things cover art is not a secret, especially among the publishing houses. I received an email from Lauren Naefe, Online Marketing Manager at HarperCollins, who asked if I consult the Oracle of the Bitchery to help settle an in-house debate. It seems the cover art for a particular book is under discussion, and there are two hotly-contested candidates for the coveted position. It’s like deciding the Democratic presidential nomination, only with Bitchery, cussing, and fun! How perfect for SuperTuesday, eh?

The book in question is Confessions of a Beauty Addict, the fiction debut of Nadine Haobsh which comes out November 18. Haobsh is the beauty editor who was outed by New York Post as blogger behind “Jolie In NYC”, a hugely popular blog about all things involving beauty secrets. Her nonfiction advice manual, Beauty Confidential was published in October of ‘07.

The summary of Confessions of a Beauty Addict reads as follows:

When Bella Hunter, Beauty Expert and all around magazine editor wunderkind, loses her job for spilling top industry secrets to Page 6 she thinks her life is over. And, to top it all off, she’s managed to dye her hair bright orange. At her wits end and desperate not to return home with her tail between her legs, Bella accepts a job a Womanly Wear: a magazine her mom reads. But how can she face her glamorous ex-co-workers now that she works in an office where khaki (not Cavalli) is the way of life? Bella is out to wage war on the beauty world one bad makeover at a time, armed with only her Marc Jacobs shoes, three meddling best friends, and a flighty supermodel boyfriend. At odds with her stuffy (and undeniably gorgeous) publisher, Bella begins to realize that she may be fighting the wrong battle.

With that in mind, here are the two covers that the folks at Avon A are battling over. Which do you like? What comments do you have for either one. Lauren has graciously offered 2 advance copies of the book to the two readers who offer the most helpful comment - so speak often and as much as you want. 

Diane, Viscountess Thrusston, and Kay, Equally Awesome, both sent me big huge ass boxes full of category romance. Seriously, I wanted to find a shrink ray so I could reduce myself by 60% and dive into the box of books and swim around with joy, papercuts be damned. So much reading! In so many various plot options! There’s secret babies, cowboys, sheikhs, private investigators, a late night talkshow host who swears up and down he’s a vampire… I’m so giddy I want to take a week off and do nothing but read old school category romances. There’s even some seriously vintage Betty Neels in there, which I’ve never read before. The women in the cover art have BIG GIANT ANIME-ESQUE EYES and the ends of the pages are red with that dye that totally comes off on my hands. I’m so happy I may plotz. Thank you, Diane! Thank you Kay!

But even better than the vintage way back machine in two boxes of awesome? THE COVERS. It’s not just vintage, it’s veeeentage.

Gemma sent us the following two covers. In the interest of politeness, I definitely said, “Thank you.” I would not say the same to the art department.

Sarah: Dear Lover England: Apparently I must lie back and think of you, even though I am distracted by the tingling sensation in my womanly parts. Is that normal? Love, your darling Schnookums.

Candy: 65-year-old playboy Humbert England was ecstatic when he snagged what he thought was a nubile 22-year-old playmate...except he found out for himself the advanced state of elective surgery when he discovered not just cobwebs in a Certain Place, but spiders, too.

Sarah: That woman in the middle, Nurse Scratchet, is wondering why these two grinning nimbobs haven’t gotten the message. “The Rose and the Thorn?” The fire in their respective nether parts? What does she have to do, spell it out for them: “YOU PEOPLE HAVE VENERAL DISEASE!”

Candy: Why are there children sitting around a bonfire in these people’s crotches? Seriously. Kids. In people’s crotches. Not cool.

Sarah: “...and the name ‘Rosamund’ will be forever synonymous with mammoth breasts no puffy shirt can hide.”

No wonder the poor thing needs a walking stick. Holy shit.

Candy: Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge...tracts of land.

Sorry for going for the obvious joke, but it’s not as if those bodice puppies are especially subtle.

Candy’s portion of the cover snark today is in honor of the recent statement by Signet regarding the acceptable use of other people’s words in one’s original work. She is but too conscious of the fact that we are born in an age when only the dull are treated seriously, and she lives in terror of not being misunderstood.

Sarah: H’thur GRn’znRk smiled with glee. She could easily lodge a few million of her poisonous, lethal eggs in the schnoz of the tycoon holding her hand. Just wait until he was at her mercy. Her breeding plan would give him a new definition for “hostile takeover.”

Candy: He is really not so ugly after all, provided, of course, that one shuts one’s eyes, and does not look at him.

Sarah: The outtakes of this cover shoot must be a scream! “You have Man Hands!” “I’m falling over AGAIN!” “Why do you have a baton wedged under your skirt...?” “Your falsies have slipped northward again and are going to choke me.”

Candy: The one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties.

Sarah: Carter from ER finally understood why she kept exclaiming that Amazon Prime offered free two-day shipping on all products shipped from and sold by Amazon.com. 

Candy: To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. 

As you’re hopped up on egg nog, enjoy the holiday madness here at Smart Bitches!

Sarah: Nothing says “Christmas” like Ryan Seacrest on a meth bender. Holly jolly, indeed!

Candy: Why is David Boreanaz on a Harlequin cover, and why is he channeling Arnold Schwarzenegger circa 1986?

Sarah: Not that she doesn’t look lovely in that dress, and not that I’m being a wicked catty bitch, but that might be the first depiction of arm flab on a cover model. Now we need heroes with some muffin top! Real People in Romance Now! (And I hope she sets him on fire with that bigass candle because he looks creepy. I’d rather kiss Milton.)

Candy: Oh, man. A cover featuring That Douche From the Office. You know, the one who gives you unasked-for shoulder rubs because you look “tense.” The one who leers at you when you wear a pretty new sweater to work. The one who talks about how much his former girlfriends enjoyed sex with him. You know, That Douche. Yech.

Sarah: Check out this cover, and the one directly above it. I swear, that’s the same dude. And he is making the rounds of the holiday party in a manner which I am sure will be written up in next year’s employee conduct manual.

Candy: “A ring that’s capable of trapping a million tortured souls per carat? Just what I always wanted! Look at how the bright flames of their agony make the cover artist apply the lens flare effect like they’re paid a thousand dollars every time they hit the Ctrl-F button!”

“Nothing’s too good for my schnookums!”