
Bitchery reader Natalie writes:
I am hoping that somewhere in someone’s brain, that they know the book I am about to describe.
I read it in the late 1980’s and it was a series book (either Harlequin or Silhouette). The heroine of the story’s best friend has just died and said best friend left orders that the heroine go through the crap in the attic and decide what to toss and what to keep.
The heroine is reluctant to do this because once upon a time ago, she and the hero (who married the best friend) had a tempetous affair. Of course she goes and tries to ignore studly hero while also befriending the hero and best friend’s son.
Of course they end up jumping into bed together and before anyone can blink, there’s a knock on the door. You guessed it, secret baby plot! Secret baby is now a teen (I think his name is Tyler) and angry and sullen. Of course, the hero figures out it’s his kid in like two seconds and chaos ensues for a brief while.
The hero and heroine eventually get married and I think there was snorkeling or scuba diving on their honeymoon. (There’s more to the honeymoon, but I can’t really remember what).
They settle back home and she returns to the attic and finds a letter from the best friend saying basically that she didn’t really care what happened to her stuff, she just used it as an excuse to bring the heroine there. She goes on to write that she knew something had happened between the heroine and the hero and gives them her blessing to be together.
Does this sound familiar at all?

Familiar, no. Like it would make snakes pop out of my head, yes.
Jesus, the plot of that book is one of the reasons people make fun of the romance genre.
I’ve MSTed stories like that.
“Like it would make snakes pop out of my head, yes.”
Ow, I just hurt myself snorting at that.
(There’s more to the honeymoon, but I can’t really remember what)
Oh damn, I laughed at that until it hurt! Snorkeling! Hah! Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
And no, I don’t know what the book is because secret babies make me want to punch crotches, and I haven’t yet paid back the bail loan from last time. Ahem.