As a reviewer of romances I am always on the hunt for the next hot cover model...I think I am about to be set straight on judging a book by it's cover.
Please welcome P.J Jones to Reviewer Extraordinaire
|...wait are those man boobs?|
Smella Rosepetal must find a millionaire husband to finance her baby’s heart transplant. She flies home to her deputy father’s ranch in Pitchforks, Texas, where she falls in love with Deadward Forest, a wealthy environmentalist vampire.
When a deranged murderer is on the loose in Pitchforks, killing romance heroines, Deadward assumes Smella would be safer without him. Smella turns to her childhood friend, Snake Long, for comfort. But Snake doesn’t have the money to save her baby, so Smella places herself in peril in a desperate hunt for a rich husband.
Time is running out for Smella’s baby, and she must escape the Australian Outback, then face down Flabio, an overweight and disgruntled, aspiring cover model, plus enraged vampire wives and their homosexual, vampire, cowboy husbands, a jealous were-gerbil, James Bond, a drunk rodeo clown and Smella’s strange boyfriend who wants to drain her blood, yet is repulsed by her smell.
“Miss Rosepetal. I‟m afraid your baby is gravely ill. As each day passes, his heart beats slower. Eventually, it will stop.” Dr. Wannabush sat on the edge of his desk, twirling the tip of his dark, slender moustache, while he peered down at Smella Rosepetal through small, dark-rimmed spectacles.
“Not my little Joshua!” Hands clasped over her heart, the young mother„s gaze swept over the rosy-cheeked, crimson-haired, infant sleeping in the basket beside her chair. “Doctor,” she cried, “you must save him!”
Dr. Wannabush stood, adjusting the heavy weight in his crotch while he thrust his pelvis precariously close to the bridge of Smella‟s blemish-free, and not overly-large, forehead. “He will need a heart transplant, but the operation is risky.”
Smella managed to look up at the doctor‟s face, despite the stiffened protrusion obscuring her vision. “How risky?” she asked.
Shaking his head, the doctor sat back down, the bulge in his plaid polyester pants looking more like an erect circus tent. “There is a fifty-percent chance he will not make it.”
“Oh, my baby!” She cried, her long tresses coming undone from their neat, maidenly confinement, in lush, cascading, dark waves, despite the fact that Smella hadn‟t touched her scalp.
The doctor arched a slender brow. “And there‟s more.”
“More?” she gasped.
“Your health insurance doesn‟t cover this type of surgery.” The doctor leveled her with a hardened stare. “You will need five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Doctor, I‟m a vulnerable single mother, desperately in need of a strong man to take care of me.” A hand flew to her brow and she turned pleading violet eyes upon him. “Where am I to get that kind of money?”
Lost in a perfectly staged, yet not painstakingly long, lapse of thought, the doctor rubbed his chiseled jaw. “Might I suggest you marry a young, sophisticated, wealthy Texas tycoon with raven hair and bulging biceps, who‟s not afraid of a long-term commitment to a poor, ignorant, yet surprisingly beautiful, single mother, who for some reason has a flat stomach and firm breasts, despite the fact that she recently birthed an illegitimate child?”
“What a good idea.” Suddenly forgetting the gravity of the situation, Smella nearly jumped out of her seat, her perky breasts jiggling once, then coming to a complete, controlled stop. “How can I ever thank you?”
Dr. Wannabush shrugged, a sly grin creasing the corners of his mouth. “A quickie on top of my desk.”
Batting long, lush lashes, she shook her head apologetically. “I‟m sorry, doctor, but I‟m saving my virginity for my one true love.”
His forehead wrinkled in obvious confusion. “You have a baby.”
“Yes, I know. He‟s the light of my life, and so smart.” She looked down at the baby again, which had somehow sprouted blond hair and a dimple in his chin. “He cries only on cue and knows not to interrupt a scene between Mommy and a minor secondary character.”
The doctor heaved a sigh. “Are you sure I can‟t change your mind about that quickie?”
“No, doctor, I‟m sorry. I must hurry to Texas if I am to save my baby.” Smella and her breasts quickly stood. She single-handedly lifted the infant‟s basket with surprising ease before abruptly turning and heading for the door. “Thank you for everything. Maybe if you‟re lucky, you will have sex in a sequel.”
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Take Care Everyone and P.J thanks for letting us have some fun today. (um... just don't ask the name of the cover artist. She's still a unset, because every time she closes her eyes all she sees are man boobs in a kilt...)