From the possibility of LOLHarlequinSecrets to the absurdity of that Fabio shoulder-blade-humping cover rearing its hot-ironed head yet again (I love that cover – he looks so studious and yet so bad as a brunette) this Gawker item has it all – particularly the milquetoast excerpts from the Harlequin Romance Report confessional.
That is some tame confession, y’all. Why is a publisher hosting sexual confessionals? I don’t get it. To be honest, the “Tee hee hee!” whispering-naughty-stories attitude of that page ticks me off a bit because it seems so very juvenile. And round these parts, we’re not ashamed of reading romance or sexually explicit stories, or of our own status as sexual beings – and we’re not ashamed of much else that I can tell, either. I will say this: I have never joined the mile high club because the idea of touching any surface beyond what is minimally necessary in an airplane lavatory gives me a major case of the squicks like DAMN.