What Happened To Fabio?

I like to read. That's no secret. My favorites are spy novels, anything to do with government intrigue, and Christian fiction that expands my thinking. I despise what I consider fluff: predictable nonsense with sappy plots and fairy tale characters (i.e. romance novels). Every now and then, though, my brain gets tired of thinking and I'm ready for some easy reading I can knock out in a day and pretty much lose myself in. My most recent easy-reading, beach-type book was found for fifty cents at a local thrift shop. The cover featured an ice-cream cone against a soothing lime green background and the back cover promised a story of a forty-something mother coming to terms with her own mother moving in while her teenage daughter was sneaking out the bedroom window on a nightly basis.

And this by no means describes my current position in life.
No need to draw unnecessary conclusions.
Although my mom can move in anytime she wants to.

At any rate, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I finished it in a couple of days (bedtime reading) and with the exception of a few, brief sappy lovesick moments, the characters were quite believable. The ending was not predictable and when I finally turned the last page, I let out a heavy sigh. I went straight to my local library to find some more by the same author (for future easy-reading days) and was surprised to not find any. I didn't take to the time to do a computer search because I had plenty of other stuff to read at home anyway. Later that night, though, I did reach under the bed (where most things on my side end up) to see if I had the author's name right. That's when I noticed the tiny words on the back cover.

Harlequin.
As in Harlequin Romance.
Like a love story.

Maybe you have to be in my head to truly understand this, but I had to laugh to myself. I read a romance novel? And liked it? Horror of all horrors. I looked at the front cover with the ice-cream cone and laughed again. I swear there was no reference to ice-cream anywhere in the book. What happened to the half-naked man with the flowing hair embracing the equally half-naked woman with the equally flowing hair that usually represents the stereotypical romance book? I re-read the back. Love was not mentioned once. Life, yes. Nervous breakdown, yes. Career choices, yes. Not one iota of an inkling of romance. Okay, so there were a few romantic scenes involved, but nothing over the top. Several innuendos? Yep. It still makes me laugh. I got suckered into reading the one thing I always turn my nose up at, and a Harlequin at that.

What the heck.
I already downloaded another one on my nook.
If you can't beat 'em...

You might as well enjoy the love scenes.