We took the boys to Toys-R-Us to spend their Christmas money/gift cards today. There is nothing like wandering a toy store with two kids with $50 each in their pockets. To help in my recovery, I left the husband in the truck to undo the 496 grey-wire twist ties holding 4 toys in their packaging while I dashed into Borders.
Now, I love romantica. If you’re going to write sex, write sex–hot, steamy, and nary a love-lance or heaving pearly orb in sight. And I love books from Ellora’s Cave best of all. (They’re actually who I’d most like to get The Call from this year–or The Email). When Borders starting carrying EC’s books, I wanted to throw a party! EC in print! Woooohoooooo! I’ve never really thought of the covers or anybody’s perceptions of what I’m reading.
Today I was after FETISH by Sherri L. King. A couple of people who share my reading tastes and whose opinions I trust recommended this as an “OMG, you haven’t read it yet? You HAVE to read it!”, so I was thrilled to find it at Borders. Now, the cover of this book is HOT, and probably one of my favorite EC covers yet. But, the cover and the title combined…I managed to run into not only an aide from the short kid’s preschool, but a very judgmentally religious friend of my stepmother’s. The only thing that stopped me from sliding it under my coat was the thought of trying to explain to the husband why I was arrested for shoplifting romantica.
And do I get one of the bored cashiers who don’t even make eye contact while muttering “Would you like to sign up for our online newsletter?” in a “Can I just shoot myself now?” monotone. No, I get the kid who obviously just lost his virginity to a bar of ivory soap and a wad of wet paper towels. He scans Fetish first, then sets it to the side. Looks at me funny. Scans my RT magazine, then slides it UNDER Fetish, and looks up at me. Scans the husband’s Formula 1 magazine, slides it UNDER the stack, looks at Fetish. Looks at me. Scans the little tin of Burt’s Bee’s Lip Balm, then…yup, slips it UNDER the book he’s ogling, then looks at me again.
Outwardly, I’m giving him the arched-eyebrow Look of Death, telling him ‘go ahead and say something. Watch me take you from nosy to sobbing for your mommy in 5.2 seconds’. Inwardly, I’m realizing just what makes romantica by e-book so very popular. No horny dweebs wondering what the dumpy housewife needs with a book like that.
(And I’m not very far into it yet, but it’s looking to be DEFINITELY worth the adventure) (And the adventure wouldn’t count as writing, but it did give me a ‘glimpse’ of understanding of the market/format/whatever you call it.)
Now I’m off to continue the internal debate on deleting Jawbreaker and Solitaire from my iPAQ.