leave me alone, I'm reading

Le sigh.

I've recently been on a romance novel binge, having read not many in my lifetime, and I am sure that I did nothing to further my interest in the genre by picking up this book as a representative example. During my recent hairdresser appointment, I figured I could knock out at least half of this short book while getting the grey colored out of my hair.

This is a retelling of the Beauty & the Beast fairy tale, and while I appreciated that the author ensured all of the essential plot elements were accounted for, the forced nature of the love story settings were laugh out loud terrible.

For example, when Bella decides she is going to convince Max to allow her access to his grounds so that she can get his 'magic' basil, she sneaks into his kitchen to cook up her tomato sauce to serve to him as an argument, which, by the way, apparently falls flat on its face for the want of.....BASIL! (whatever).

She happens to have snuck in while he was showering, and when he hears noises and goes to investigate, he happens to only have thrown on a pair of jeans.

So here's Max, standing bare chested (which is chiseled, of course), wet, and presumably raring to go, though he hadn't expected to find a woman in his kitchen, and Bella is blithely cooking away, not thinking of bare chests and glistening skin until she looks at him.

At this point, I started chuckling under my breath, which of course prompts my hairdresser to ask about my apparently clever book. As I read out loud this ridiculous scene to her, she can't help but join in my merriment, and by the end of the scene, she, I, and the woman in the neighboring barber chair had tears rolling down our cheeks.

I suppose it didn't help that I and my neighbor had complimentary glasses of champagne already halfway down our gobs, but still, the book really isn't any good.

Le sigh again.

I miss my memoirs....