Old school romance: where the men were men and the heroines were…sleepy.
Sarah: While Emma Merritt is best known for her tireless service to the romance genre, this book is a little known gem which reveals the struggles of two amorous narcoleptics who put out the fire of their passion by sleeping on it.
Candy: That’s not sleepiness—that’s lip collagen poisoning we’re seeing. Egad, those lips are eerie-looking.
Sarah: He’s waiting… waiting… waiting patiently for the acid to take effect, so he can see what freaks her out more: The Parrot or His Mullet.
Candy: That look on her face wasn’t particularly slumberous or sexy; it mostly made me think “Dude, taking advantage of somebody with chromosome 21 trisomy is NOT COOL.”
Sarah: Just another day of ho-hum, if by “ho-hum” you mean pressing a throbbing lovesword against her femoral artery while distracting her with the erect cacti-peens and the flaming fuschia landscape. It’s sad he no longer enjoys his job.
Candy: She doesn’t look overpowered by lust so much as rohypnol; then again, he looks like a guy who doesn’t necessarily care to distinguish between either. Date rape in the desert underneath a cactus: mothers, don’t let your daughters grow up to be cowgirls.