I have mentioned before that I really like Ms Bliss’ writing, despite the inexplicable long time between reading Mr Imperfect and these last two in the trilogy, Mr Irresistible and Mr Unforgettable.
Slowly, but surely, I’m correcting the oversight.
Mr Irresistible, by Karina Bliss
This is the middle book in the Lost Boys trilogy, and once again we have a winner. I will never understand how Ms Bliss manages to pack to much emotional impact in a relatively short length, particularly considering all the constraints of writing a category romance.
The important thing, I suppose, is that she does. Boy, does she ever!
Here’s the blurb, from the author’s website:
If you are a child of the 80s, this video will make you smile.
I admit that I cannot name all the movies, but isn’t it just wonderful?
As an avid romance genre reader, I’m often painfully aware of how popular it is to mock my reading material. Often to my face (virtual or real.) People who know nothing else about me assume that I’m uneducated, mentally lazy (if not outright stupid), unhappy, fat, ugly, and a host of other unflattering and insulting stereotypes, because I admit to reading romance and liking it.
The theory goes that if I were anything but uneducated, stupid, lazy, fat, ugly, etc., I would read proper fiction (or, depending on the snobbery of the other party, non-fiction) instead of ‘that trash.’
This derisive view of romance readers–and writers–is truly prevalent.
This fact was driven home to me today when I saw that, despite the fact that when Ms Small’s death was announced on facebook late on Tuesday, by Kathryn Falk (founder, Romantic Times magazine) there were hundreds of tweets about it–and not just by native English readers and speakers, and not only in English either–within the hour, and dozens of posts to facebook in remembrance, I could not find any obituaries.¹