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

Sarah says: “Can we just talk about the fact that this series is called ‘Paranormal Mates Society,’ or ‘PMS?’ What, are they ASKING me to be bitchy?”

Sarah: Yup. He’s horny.

Candy: Y’know, looking at how wispy and thin his hair is, and how very much like a comb-over the style looks, I think he qualifies as the first person I’ve seen who’s tried to use horns to minimize his bald spot.

Also, dig that gorgeous hairy cleavage. It’s like somebody had glued a big old hairy ass on his chest.

Sarah: Would you look at those man-titties? Thank God they spare my retinas by not coming into view all at once, but even the part we can see is just incredible.

If this guy is a were-something, and I’m guessing by the big moon in the sky that he is, and if the light of the full moon has to touch him to make his freak out get its freak on, does the shadow of his man-breasts keep his entire lower body from doing their freaky thing? Because that would be some real horror.

Candy: Did you know that commercially-raised turkeys need to be artificially inseminated because their gigantic breasts prevent the males from mounting the females properly?

Isn’t that sad?

And isn’t it weird that somebody chose to write a book about a were-turkey? Or at least, create a cover featuring a were-turkey.

Sarah: Heroine: “You’re a werewolf? What’s your name?”

Hero: “Strabismus.”

Heroine: “You’re awfully hairy, Strabismus. I can see your fur, I mean, chest hair, through your shirt.”

Hero: “Yeah. When I wear my chain mail suit for the Medieval Times 6pm show, it gets caught in the links and pulls.”

Heroine: “Poor baby. Just wait here while I get some wax, I mean, some snacks.”

Candy: Sarah, the heroine wouldn’t need to go get any wax—all she’d have to do is break off an expendable chunk of the hero and melt it over a low flame.

I mean, seriously, that glazed sheen belongs in Madame Tussauds.

Sarah: Fake breasts? Check.

Dollar-store hair extensions? Check.

Dead-eyed stare? Check.

Yet again the Poser Art Department has proved that they do not have a grasp on what women want in a visual hero, but they have easily met the fantasy needs of basement-dwelling chicken-chokin’ monkey-spankers.

Candy: She’s not bad looking for a lurching zombie, though she really needs to find a manicurist who’s not so hot to trot on the bad press-on nails, and maybe stop gluing acrylic yarn to her head. But then, how much can you expect from a lurching zombie?

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Categories: Covers Gone Wild! (Non-Snoop Dogg Edition)

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