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

Candy: Ahh, if only it were George Costanza on that cover: “I would drape myself in velvet if it were socially acceptable.”

Seriously, yo. That’s a lot of purple velvet. And one bored female model with a helluva neck crick.

Sarah: Either she smells so bad that he passed out, or she’s so incredibly boring in the sack that he fell asleep. Either way, that’s not so much a bold conquest as a sleepy one.

Candy: I think this is the first boring clinch cover I’ve ever seen. They’re generally hideous as all hell, but they aren’t boring. I didn’t think anything could rival the lifelessness Poser covers offer, but these models seem to be giving them a good run for the money.

“I’m, um, going to rip your bodice now. ‘Tis no use resisting, etc.”

“Help. Help. Somebody help me. Please, get your filthy *yawwwwwn* hands off me.”

“This circlet is giving me pins and needles in my forearm. Ow. Ow. Ow.”

Sarah: Needed: one romance cover. Must have eyepatch, arm cuff, and man-titty, along with absolutely impressive female cleavage. But models do not necessarily have to be awake.

Sarah: After several months on a ship, hell, several DAYS on a ship, where I assume the water supply for bathing is severely rationed, would ANYONE want to get that close to someone’s neck? Or did the stench make him pass out, too?

Candy: Yes, this looks like an EXCELLENT idea. Dangle from the rigging, grab the ship’s doxy, and sniff her neck ravenously. And you’re on to something about those fainting spells, Sarah. Look at her limp pose. I bet that captain’s sporting some fomunda cheese that’s ripe enough to kill an elephant at 50 paces.

Candy: Another Bertrice Small cover, another model with insane hair blowing in the wind. Except this woman looks, ummm, mannish. Take a look at this cropped image from the large version of this cover--and I swear on my purple My Little Pony Doll that other than lightening the picture and bumping up the contrast, I have done NO OTHER futzing around at all:

That makes that hair the Best Drag Queen Wig, EVER

Sarah:She. Has. A. Nutsack. It’s not just camel toe, y’all. She has testicles.

Candy: “That’s right. I AM irresistible. If I could fuck myself, I would. Man, how can I fuck myself? Wait: does that make me a woman?”

That is one man with a lot of slobbery lip and, er, other prints all over his mirror. Count on it.

And oddly enough, I have no problem resisting him at all. Maybe it’s the jaunty bouffant, maybe it’s his Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, or maybe it’s the SMUG FUCKING EXPRESSION on his face, but really: resistance levels at an all-time high with little to no effort on my part.

Sarah: Oh yeah, I’m a member of this resistance, too. I’m trying desperately to resist laughing my ass off at him. In fact, I bet this guy was the model. Except for the hair.

I don’t see what he’s got to be so smug about. He has no identifiable ass, and his front is all poofy like mine at six days post-partum. That, my friends, is NOT sexy. 

Congratulations to SamG, the latest inductee into our Hall of Impeccably Tasteful Aristocratic Titles. Kneel, Sam. No, really, kneel. There’s something you gotta do to the sword. The fleshy sword. For, behold your title:

Go forth, and do your name proud, Sam! And congratulations again on providing the correct answer for today’s challenge.

You know the routine:

Title + Author’s Name + Name of Hero = Smart Bitch Title!

Get crackin’, bitches!

Phlogiston and spies and virgin heroes, oh my!

SWM, brainy virgin and spy-wannabe seeks equally brainy female. Pretty amnesiac French scientists with the secret to a new explosive substance a definite plus. I’ll totally pretend to be your husband while I’m trying to figure out the secret to the explosives, but please forgive me if I spooge on your sheets while we’re making out.

It Happened One Autumn in seven sentences and one acronym:

Sassy American heiress meets high-in-the-instep English earl.

Sassy American heiress immediately rubs high-in-the-instep English earl the wrong way.

Sassy American heiress gets to rub high-in-the-instep English earl the right way, grrrwoof.

Sassy American heiress snipes and spars some more with high-in-the-instep English earl.

Sassy American heiress rubs high-in-the-instep English earl again.

Rinse and repeat until marriage proposal.

Impecunious aristo buddy of the high-in-the-instep English earl turns out to be a villain and gets ass kicked, but he’s OMG HOT and gets his own sequel.

HEA. 

Last night was our first night with the baby, and aside from moments of, “Are we doing this right?!” and “Are we ever going to sleep again?” we did ok. Hubby and I were a team, and even at six in the morning when we had to change our sheets because someone hosed them down in his own special sauce, and then feed, and then change again, and then get back in bed, lather rinse repeat, we still managed to keep our sense of humor. And we’re tired but happy this morning.

Without delving into TMI territory, I have to say that seeing my own husband, whom I’ve known since high school when we were 17, become a father and handle the responsibility and the change with affable grace is really freaking sexy. I mean, no sex for me for at least a month and a half, but still, yowza! Men who manage fatherhood happily - that’s some yummy right there.

So last night while I was trying to get back to sleep, which was surprisingly difficult after the change/pee/sheets/pee/change/feed/change hour of madness, I started making a mental list of the romance heroes that I’ve read about that were sexy fathers as well, possibly during the course of the story. It’s probably hormones, but I couldn’t think of more than a few. One of Hubby’s fatherhood books, the one I am totally jealous of because it is better than all the other books I have put together, talks at length about the stereotype of inept fatherhood, and how men are more likely to be portrayed as bumbling fools when it comes to being a dad, instead of as able caregivers who can change diapers and do laundry and not suffer any loss of their manhood. Am I suffering from a black hole in my memory, or is few and far between to find a hero who is also an able, caring father?

Aside from the “secret baby” genre, what books are out there that you liked that featured strong, sexy fathers as heroes? Consider this an open call for the “Father Genre” - what books do you recommend?