Extra-super-bonus for this week’s Covers Gone Wild: alternate cover titles and subtitles! Click on the links in the entry below to have your minds TOTALLY BLOWN! No, seriously! Just do it! Please don’t make us have to use any more exclamation marks!
Candy: Wow. That combination of scrubby-ass stubble, unnaturally smooth chest and badly-bleached blond hair just screams “tough cowboy” to me. Because as we well know, razors were in short supply in the old American west, but hair-removal wax and cheap peroxide dye jobs were surprisingly plentiful. And much as it pains me to admit this, the question “does the rug match the drapes?” has run across my mind, though that same mind boggles at the thought of viewing his… rug. If he hasn’t had that area waxed as cleanly as his chest, that is.
And are you scared by that FLAMING FUCKING BRAND he’s brandishing around? Because I am. It looks like that brand could hurt. At the very least, it looks like it could poke somebody’s eye out. And set fire to their whole freaking head in the process.
Sarah: Dude, what is up with that brand? OUCH! Especially since in the little vignette picture to the left he is PULLING HER SHIRT OFF and baring her BACK SKIN. I mean, subtlety much? OUCH OUCH OUCH! And as for the brand, what do you think the BC stands for? Branded Cowboy? Barmy Cowboy? Bunker Curry?
Candy: I don’t know… Bare-assed Cowgirls? Bubblicious Cunny? Bible Camp? Hell if I know. Bible Camp might make for a really surreal title for the book. “Bible Camp… Praise the Lord, and be branded by His Love.” How’s that for sacrilegous?
You know, the more I look at this picture, the more I’m convinced that the brand is some sort of phallic symbol the poor guy is hiding behind to Compensate For Something. Normally I’d say a really tiny peener, but looking at his hair, his chaps, and the complete lack of hair anywhere on his body except his lower jaw, I think Jakey-boy may very well be a homo on the range who thinks that ripping off a female bodice or two will convince the people at gay recovery camp that he no longer craves sweet, sweet cock. But you KNOW he still has those too-tight Y-fronts with “Butt Boy” scrawled on the ass stashed away somewhere.
Sarah: You are so right about the mixed vibe from this guy, but my biggest beef (har) is the complete lack of realism. Who in the name of God’s arse would ever stand near a branding pit without a shirt on? I know the cover sells the story somewhat, but this is so awful. It’s almost insulting. It’s beefcake for the sake of beefcake, and it’s part of what gives romance novel readers a reputation for being stupid. this cover is beyond ridiculous, so I have no patience for the contents within. And this could be a marvelous book, but I wouldn’t be caught reading it in public or in the bathtub.
Jake: Ladies, that ain’t no purroxide! I use pure rattlesnake piss for the ammoninia, and it lightens it up right nice. ‘dem whores at the ol’ Dollar Cootch Saloon just luv my purty locks.
Meljean (who was laughing too hard at “sweet, sweet cock” to make her own statement, and had to let Jake talk)
Was the “rattlesnake” by any chance attached to a tall, muscle-bound, clean-shaven man named Trey Rexx? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.
No, I mean it. A LOT.
All that, and the brand’s facing backwards to boot…
NICE. A brand for dyslexic cowboys, maybe?
Love can definitely hurt you but there’s a way to escape those moments, installing a hot tub in your bathroom to slide into, while eating chocolates and sipping on a good champagne.