It's Funny Because It's True

Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels link gakked from ljs

I have to say that from the authors I recognize and whose works I've read, these (selected) observations by the bitches seem to be right on the mark:

What kind of food would a romance author be…...if a romance author could be food?

Cassie Edwards: Potted Meat Food product. It’s marketed as food, and it tries very, very hard to be food, but ultimately, it’s Food Product. Frighteningly ubiquitous, and therefore even more terrifying.

Laura Kinsale: Saffron. Rare and exclusive, but packs a huge wallop when used.

Laurell K. Hamilton: Cilantro. Some people LOVE her to the point of OMG obsession, and some people cannot stand her and think she tastes like soap.

Julia Quinn: Trifle. Light, happy, not too maudlin, not too filling to be an after-dinner treat.

Catherine Coulter: Deep fried Twinkies. Once upon a time, it was a good junk food. Now? Not good at all.

Lisa Kleypas: A basic chocolate layer cake. Sometimes absolutely spectacular, sometimes pretty bland and chewy with frosting that’s too sweet, but dude, it’s still chocolate cake.

Patricia Gaffney: A big bowl of hearty stew that’ll warm you to your toes and make you feel good. Unless it’s the older bodice ripper novels she wrote for Leisure, in which case, she’s cheese. Perhaps Swiss, for the plot holes.

Dara Joy: American Cheese. Cheesy, yet weirdly plastic, completely unearthly, not quite a food.

(Still have horrors of one Dara Joy I read. Bad doesn't begin to cover it)

Judith McNaught: Grocery-store cupcakes. Sometimes, you just crave them, so you buy a box and eat, like, a dozen in a row. And you suddenly realize that you feel a bit boofy because they’re way too sweet and greasy, and not only that, they have the same basic taste, even though they claim to have different flavors and frostings.

Danielle Steel: Cheez doodles.

Diana Palmer: Biscuits. Made by virgins. Who are mistaken for whores by hard-faced Texan cowboys with women issues the size of, uh, Texas.

Stephanie Laurens’- Cynster series: Pocky. There’s Almond Pocky, Strawberry Pocky, Green Tea Pocky, Coconut Pocky, Milk Pocky, Honey Pocky, Grape Pocky--Pocky Pocky Pocky. All variations of “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick.” And really, if “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick” doesn’t accurately describe all the humpings in a Laurens novel, we don’t know what does.

It's Funny Because It's True

Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels link gakked from ljs

I have to say that from the authors I recognize and whose works I've read, these (selected) observations by the bitches seem to be right on the mark:

What kind of food would a romance author be…...if a romance author could be food?

Cassie Edwards: Potted Meat Food product. It’s marketed as food, and it tries very, very hard to be food, but ultimately, it’s Food Product. Frighteningly ubiquitous, and therefore even more terrifying.

Laura Kinsale: Saffron. Rare and exclusive, but packs a huge wallop when used.

Laurell K. Hamilton: Cilantro. Some people LOVE her to the point of OMG obsession, and some people cannot stand her and think she tastes like soap.

Julia Quinn: Trifle. Light, happy, not too maudlin, not too filling to be an after-dinner treat.

Catherine Coulter: Deep fried Twinkies. Once upon a time, it was a good junk food. Now? Not good at all.

Lisa Kleypas: A basic chocolate layer cake. Sometimes absolutely spectacular, sometimes pretty bland and chewy with frosting that’s too sweet, but dude, it’s still chocolate cake.

Patricia Gaffney: A big bowl of hearty stew that’ll warm you to your toes and make you feel good. Unless it’s the older bodice ripper novels she wrote for Leisure, in which case, she’s cheese. Perhaps Swiss, for the plot holes.

Dara Joy: American Cheese. Cheesy, yet weirdly plastic, completely unearthly, not quite a food.

(Still have horrors of one Dara Joy I read. Bad doesn't begin to cover it)

Judith McNaught: Grocery-store cupcakes. Sometimes, you just crave them, so you buy a box and eat, like, a dozen in a row. And you suddenly realize that you feel a bit boofy because they’re way too sweet and greasy, and not only that, they have the same basic taste, even though they claim to have different flavors and frostings.

Danielle Steel: Cheez doodles.

Diana Palmer: Biscuits. Made by virgins. Who are mistaken for whores by hard-faced Texan cowboys with women issues the size of, uh, Texas.

Stephanie Laurens’- Cynster series: Pocky. There’s Almond Pocky, Strawberry Pocky, Green Tea Pocky, Coconut Pocky, Milk Pocky, Honey Pocky, Grape Pocky--Pocky Pocky Pocky. All variations of “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick.” And really, if “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick” doesn’t accurately describe all the humpings in a Laurens novel, we don’t know what does.

It's Funny Because It's True

Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels link gakked from ljs

I have to say that from the authors I recognize and whose works I've read, these (selected) observations by the bitches seem to be right on the mark:

What kind of food would a romance author be…...if a romance author could be food?

Cassie Edwards: Potted Meat Food product. It’s marketed as food, and it tries very, very hard to be food, but ultimately, it’s Food Product. Frighteningly ubiquitous, and therefore even more terrifying.

Laura Kinsale: Saffron. Rare and exclusive, but packs a huge wallop when used.

Laurell K. Hamilton: Cilantro. Some people LOVE her to the point of OMG obsession, and some people cannot stand her and think she tastes like soap.

Julia Quinn: Trifle. Light, happy, not too maudlin, not too filling to be an after-dinner treat.

Catherine Coulter: Deep fried Twinkies. Once upon a time, it was a good junk food. Now? Not good at all.

Lisa Kleypas: A basic chocolate layer cake. Sometimes absolutely spectacular, sometimes pretty bland and chewy with frosting that’s too sweet, but dude, it’s still chocolate cake.

Patricia Gaffney: A big bowl of hearty stew that’ll warm you to your toes and make you feel good. Unless it’s the older bodice ripper novels she wrote for Leisure, in which case, she’s cheese. Perhaps Swiss, for the plot holes.

Dara Joy: American Cheese. Cheesy, yet weirdly plastic, completely unearthly, not quite a food.

(Still have horrors of one Dara Joy I read. Bad doesn't begin to cover it)

Judith McNaught: Grocery-store cupcakes. Sometimes, you just crave them, so you buy a box and eat, like, a dozen in a row. And you suddenly realize that you feel a bit boofy because they’re way too sweet and greasy, and not only that, they have the same basic taste, even though they claim to have different flavors and frostings.

Danielle Steel: Cheez doodles.

Diana Palmer: Biscuits. Made by virgins. Who are mistaken for whores by hard-faced Texan cowboys with women issues the size of, uh, Texas.

Stephanie Laurens’- Cynster series: Pocky. There’s Almond Pocky, Strawberry Pocky, Green Tea Pocky, Coconut Pocky, Milk Pocky, Honey Pocky, Grape Pocky--Pocky Pocky Pocky. All variations of “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick.” And really, if “sweet crap coating a pretzel stick” doesn’t accurately describe all the humpings in a Laurens novel, we don’t know what does.