Because I’m too lazy for link-whoring, I’ll just say there’s been talk all over the place recently about romance covers. Yeah, there always is, but the whole RWA GS thing kind of kicked it in the ass. The Smart Bitches, especially, are hosting a rowdy discussion on man-titty covers.
I love the old clinch covers. Man-tittylicious pirates with flowing locks embracing a heaving-bosomed captive. Shirtless, bodybuilding English lords holding scandalized maidens. I was, and ever will be, a sucker for the clinch cover. (Although it’s difficult with the Smart Bitches pointing out such things as Fabio screwing a hole in the heroine’s back.)
Now granted, I’ve never faced the kind of anti-romance bias others seem to. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever really faced discrimination against my reading preferences until I met other romance authors. Interesting. But carrying them around in public doesn’t faze me.
A lovely, tasteful cover actually kept me from discovering Susan Elizabeth Phillips for the longest time! The horror! My library had a copy of KISSING AN ANGEL in paperback, but everytime I picked it up, I was confronted with two empty beach chairs in a lovely, pastel beach scene. Blech. It looked like a Meryl Streep movie in the making. But one day I was desperate and picked it up. DAYUM! If that book had had a yummy, Russian circus performer draped on the cover I would have read it immediately, and not had to break open my piggybank to buy every SEP book I could get my hands on the next day.
Anyway. I want flowing locks. I want bulging man-titties. I want rock-hard abs. I want breathless, cheezy passion on the cover of my books.
Hello, my name is Shannon, and I love clinch covers.