Candy: This is the first Loretta Chase novel I ever read, and it is without a doubt one of my all-time favorite books. But you know what? The damn cover scared me so much I almost left it on the shelf when I first saw it in a used book store ten years ago.
First of all, let’s discuss the male model’s hair. He’s sporting a mullet. Not just a mullet, but a mullet that seems too be composed of extremely limp Jheri curls. Baby Jesus is crying RIGHT NOW.
The models’ expressions and their extremely odd, uncomfortable postures inspire even more sorrow in Baby Jesus’s breast. Why are they sniffing each other with such intensity? Perhaps even more terrifying to contemplate: WHAT exactly are they sniffing? Did they perhaps partake in some of Mary Jo Putney’s chili, resulting in some thundering roses? And if you study the angle at which they’re clutching each other’s heads with such fervid fervor, it almost looks like the female model is about to slam the guy’s forehead right into her chin.
Sarah: First, he’s pulling her hair. Not sexy. Second, she’s touching that greasy-ass wad of dippity-doo-coated perm snarl with a bare hand – no latex gloves for her! Perhaps he is thinking, “Hmm. Without my daily Dairy-Queen soft-serve-sized dollop of hair gel, perhaps this is what my hair would feel like.”
Third, what on earth is she standing on that positions her so much higher than he is? The complete lack of setting is very odd. Moon, yeah. Red dress, yeah. Bare-torsoed jheri-curl man, yeah. Is she standing on a stack of Manhattan phone books?
Fourth, have I mentioned his hair?! Ew.
And fifth and finally, this cover is one bicep away from a wardrobe malfunction.
