Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

Firing the First D’Salvo

Making fun of Fabio covers is like taking candy from a baby. A tall, blond, muscular, grotesquely be-titted baby. So today, we decided to switch to another punching bag entirely. Behold, the gallery of horrors towards which John D’Salvo has lent his visage. If ye be wise, avert your eyes.

Ah, who am I kidding? Chances are, you’re masochistic bitches, just like us.

Sarah: OW. Not only did Candy throw down the gauntlet with this series, but she starts off with a Cassie Edwards romantic book of Savage Lurrrrrveâ„¢. Damn. That gauntlet is heavy when it hits your toe.

Steering his canoe through the River-of-Fire, known to the white man as Buttsecks Creek, Casts-Long-Shadow-With-Brave-Man-Titty wondered, would he ever find a woman who would appreciate the subtle implications of the long, thin staff held between his legs? And would he ever find a conditioner that would keep his hair soft and supple in the hot Buttsecks wind?

Candy: “Hot Buttsecks wind.” Haaahahahahahah ohdeargod.

Ahem. Indeed, I hear the Hot Buttsecks can sometimes result in a lot of windiness. *koff*

My question is, what is he so savagely hoping for as he peers into… read more »

Save a Horse, Ride the Cowboy

Ah, it’s like fish in a barrel: the Native American romance novel cover. The fringe! The headbands! The majestic beadwork. The big bulge in the front of the buckskin trousers!

But what about the poor horsies, forced against their will to participate in this tawdry drivel?

Sarah: The magic in question is how the shirtless comanche is holding onto the stupid woman while she grabs his knee. Poor horse is going to fall the hell over with all that side weight, because the poor thing already has to lug those man titties around on his back.

Candy: Wow, this looks like a figure skating routine, only with a horse. Strapping ice skates onto a horse: talk about cruel and unusual.

Not that it’s any crueller or more unusual than having to bear these two preening asshats on its back.

And is this just a problem with my monitor, but does the man have no discernible nipples?

Sarah: “Stupid woman,” thought Has-Big-Mullet-But-No-Shirt. “Not only is she running around in her nightgown during a brushfire, but she doesn’t realize that horse is going to… read more »

Step Back! Back! Back!

This week, we’re taking a look at some reader-submitted stepback covers. So nice when the cover is rather bland and then you open the flap and HOLY CANOLI are those REAL?!

Our first stepback: Patricia Pellicane’s Sweet Revenge

Sarah: “The sea is rising up behind me, and here, I have this dead girl with giant silicone boobies. Aren’t Coast-Guard-approved floatation devices made of silicone? I sure hope so!”

Also, can we talk about how disturbingly long her first two fingers are? What does she DO with those fingers?! Prostate exams… on giraffes?

Candy: “Non non non, ma cherie…You keep your knees bent, lift your breasts UP and suck that stomach IN. Like so, comprends?”

Or maybe he’s demonstrating the newest Aikido throw to the little chickadee?

Under the Wild Moon by Diana Carey

Sarah:“Darling, I don’t think it’s going to work between us. First, I have to go fight those monks over there. But more importantly, you have jaundice, you aren’t able to stand up, and one of your breasts appears to be coming out of your shoulder. And, now you’re melting into a… read more »

Shirtless Wonders of the West

Sarah: Y’all. Y’ALL. Now we know what happened to Ian Ziering from 90210. But where’s the cover with Dylan and Brandon? Mrowr!

Candy: It’s a miracle more of these cover models don’t come down with some sort of catarrh from standing around with their shirts unbuttoned in the cold, damp air.

I also wonder: Do these guys use aftershave on their chests, and is that why their shirts are unbuttoned? To allow the aftershave to evaporate freely?

Sarah: Oh, the heartbreak of finding your dream man, replete with breathtaking mantitty, only to find he has a monster case of jaundice. And turning yellow does not a good indicator of health make. Wonder what else might be turning yellow, hmm? Run, dearie, RUN!

Candy: Jebus, can two people look any more gross? There’s just this sheen of, I don’t know, grease and, yes, jaundice about them. I can just about picture the stink-lines emanating from these two clowns. Maybe that’s why their mouths are slightly agape—they’re breathing through their mouths.

Sarah: Hero: Dude. Where’s my shirt? Heroine: I care not, milord! I must… read more »

Secret Baby Daddy: Part 2

More secret baby/baby-daddy books from our fabulous readers, and more horrified responses from Sarah & Candy. What a lovely way to start the week!

Sarah: Forgive me, but your daddy the Duke might want to (a) consider another source other than Burger King for his crowns, and (b) start looking into charm school, because you, little girl, look like you have some serious attitude problems.

Candy: I initially mis-read the title as My Daddy the Puke. Tee hee!

Speaking of puke: this cover has just caused my admittedly low gag threshold to redline. Come to think of it: Many romance novel covers should come with built-in barfbags. Holy shit, I’m a GENIUS.

Sarah: TRIPLET secret babies? What in the name of all that is good and noble in the world, is THAT about? I’m guessing it’s a hard secret to keep, considering that most triplet deliveries involve a few months of bed rest to allow for as long a gestation as possible. How do you explain that one? “Well, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls for four months, I was kidnapped by aliens! And excuse that giant stretch mark. It’s nothing.… read more »

Secret Baby Daddy: Part 1

Oh, bundle of joy? More like, oh holy crap what is this drivel? We present the first of a two-part series looking at some horrid reader-submitted secret baby and baby-daddy romances. Are you excited? I am. I had to put Freebird in the other room so his fragile little mind would not be warped by any of this crappe.

Sarah: By virtue of spending a lot of time with a newborn, I have slowly improved on my ability to guess how old a baby is. And this man, he is scoring with more than one woman, because those kids are not the same age, and yet they appear close enough in age that they couldn’t have been born by the same person. I don’t know what kind of design we had for daddykins, but I think it involved more than one designing woman, if you know what I mean.

Either that, or they are fraternal twins, and the one hanging off the front is bogarting the boob in a big, big way.

Candy: Sorry. Can’t snark. Am too occupied by the incredibly disturbing implications of printing “WHO’S THE DADDY?” on a bent-over baby’s ass.

An Assortment of…Something

Sarah: “Look, you’ve stolen time, the sun, possibly the space-time continuum AND the flux capacitor. But you may NOT HAVE MY SHIRT, BUB!”

Candy: Dude, he’s totally going to reach into her chest and rip out her implants and run away screeching with delight because NOW HE WILL HAVE THE BIGGEST MAN-TITTIES OF ALL, YES HE WILL PRECIOUSSSSSSS. And she knows it, too, but she’s a romance novel heroine, so all she can do is sit there and gaze, limpid-eyed into the distance, and quiver gently.

Sarah: That dude above needs to give THIS chick the shirt. I think it’s a chick anyway. It might be a man with cantaloupes glued to his chest. I’m not entirely sure.

Candy: Whoa. I think I might’ve seen this chick on the cover of the “Midgets Who Love Getting Fucked in the Ass By Chicks” porn DVD.

In any case, that is one of the scariest beckoning fingers I have ever seen. RUN, MOTHERFUCKER, RUN.

Sarah: Can someone tell me why he has skunk hair? And why… read more »

New Year, Same Old Shit

This New Year’s Edition of Covers Gone Wild visits the popular themes this year: man-titty, bad poser covers, bestiality and classic clinchy awfulness.

Candy: Sweetie, here’s a hint for you: that half mask? Ain’t doing shit. You need more coverage—say, from forehead all the way to chin, perhaps even neck—if you’re really trying to hide all that fug.

Sarah: That is one big zit he has on his lip. I’d have hidden the lower half, rather than the upper half. I’m not sure what the goal is here: he’s not fascinating in a sexy, dangerous sort of way. He looks more like those Capital One commercial vikings who come after your credit balances.

Candy: Look! An innovative way to clean out your ear canal! Press up against the groin of a shiny, be-titted, blond-haired alien, and his specially enhanced pen0r will dig out years of accumulated wax. You think he’s some kind of intergalactic warrior, but no, he’s a selfless, far-future otolaryngologist.

Sarah: Is he giving birth? Did he just crap a heroine? Is she hiding from the blazing sun of Gutron under the safe shade of his galactic man-titty?

Merry Cover Snark, from the Smart Bitches

Sarah:Isn’t she a little, um, small? For his Night Stalker? Unless she uses those little arms to pull out his most recent kidney stone. Merry Christmas! It’s a calcification in your urethra!

Candy: What the fuck, people? Look, if the sexes had been reversed, that pixie thing would’ve made a barely satisfactory dildo. How in the hell is the nookifying supposed to work in this case? He diddles her with a lubricated Q-tip? She swims up his ass and tickles his prostate? Inquiring minds want to know.

Wait, scratch that, they DON’T.

Sarah:Ah, yet another reason to be glad I converted to Judaism six years ago. I don’t ever have to worry that one day, I’ll wake up, and Thor the Vacant-Eyed Cookie Thief will be lounging in his altogether under my tree.

I don’t think Thor needs a cookie that big, either.

Candy: Man, if I found that under my Christmas tree, I’d run for a shotgun. Not that I own a shotgun, but the thought of something like that lurking in my house is making me itch to buy one.

Sarah:Merry Christmas! There’s a teeny little dead guy perched by… read more »

Cover Snark: Celebrity Hurt-A-Thon

It’s probably a good idea to drop these “below the fold” so to speak, as some of them are, well, no, they’re all pretty damn egregious, just in different ways.

This week: another set of cover art figures that kinda resemble celebrities.

Assorted Creepy Dudes

And because we’re doing more Poser covers, you know what this means:

Fug content: Unrelenting.

Nudity: Rampant. Rar!

Risk to your retinas: Moderate to moderately high.

We disclaim all responsibility for any and all clicking you may do on this site.

Menage-a-blecccchhh

Not work safe. Click at your own risk. Will cause searing eye pain. Etc.

Embrace-able…Eww

Warning: several of these images aren’t what one would consider work-safe. So: click on “More, more, more” only if you’re feeling exceptionally brave and you’re sure there’s nobody behind you who’d have a coronary if they catch a glimpse of some beastly goings-on. Or if you feel the need to sear those retinas yet again. Whichever.

Dances with Corpses

Candy: Look at the calculating look in that hussy’s face. She’s totally trying to figure out which part of him to eat first, squeezing different parts of him like a supermarket shopper would a borderline-ripe piece of fruit.

And he doesn’t look too bad for somebody who’s been dead these last five months, does he? Hooray for barrels of rum and the preservative capabilities thereof. But it’s so sad when you’re forced to eat your deceased shipmates.

Sarah: You know, once she nails him, and one hopes that rigor mortis has affected key areas for her sake at least, she can nail him to the bow of the ship instead of that mermaid lady that ships usually have.

Pity he died with such a startled expression on his face, though.

Candy: C’mon everybody! “A la tuhuelpa legria macarena, “Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena, “A la tuhuelpa legria macarena, “Eeeh, macarena!”

Sarah: What is he pointing at with his wee bitty fingers? Is he telling her to get down on the ground so that he and his girl-horse can use her skirt as a picnic tablecloth?

Is he demonstrating his fine 70’s disco… read more »

Historical Madness

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… read more »