I had no idea that the “woke” pandemic had invaded the sphere of romance novels; but here’s one that made me blink.
The sub-title on its Amazon page is “Steamy Romance Against Fascism”. I wasn’t aware that, when in the throes of “steamy romance”, one had any time (or inclination) to be against (or for) anything except the immediate consummation thereof… but perhaps my younger days weren’t typical of the modern generation.
The blurb reads:
A young congresswoman falls in love with a daring masked protestor in Seattle, Washington. After encountering him at a non-violent burning down of a federal building she can’t tell what is hotter, the fire or her feelings developing for him.
Commenters are having a wonderful time. Examples:
- “It was super hard to envision the characters in this book NOT having bright green hair, smelly hairy arm pits, dirty teeth, zits & an obesity problem. The end.”
- “Imagine her disappointment when they go to his house to consummate the passion and she discovers he has ingested so much soy product that his nails are longer than hers (except one he broke at the event when he tried to pick up a brick to throw but the brick was too heavy). They are painted a better shade of red than hers as well.” (Not to worry – we learn that a veteran rescues her from soy-boy!)
- “The cover art implies the female is a young attractive woman, but the reality is zee is a grossly overweight mid 40s single person of indeterminate gender with brightly colored hair, facial piercings and no job because of the patriarchy, and she has 9 cats.”
- “The plot was stupid, It didn’t even mention my lord and savior Bernie Sanders once. Immediately after finishing, I died of cancer.”
Sorry… reading them, I burst out laughing all over again.
Perhaps I should write a “steamy sci-fi romance against faster-than-light fascism”. Think it’ll sell? No? Oh, well…