How I’m a book snob #amreading #MondayBlogs

I’m just going to go ahead and admit it: I’m a book snob. No, I don’t only read literature. I’m a book snob; not a snob snob. I love a light read as much as the next overworked middle-aged woman. And I’ll read pretty much anything. How in the world am I book snob then? There are just certain overdone, typical plot devices (usually in romance books) that annoy me to death. In fact, they annoy me so much that I literally will not buy a book if it contains one of these themes. See? Told you I was a snob.

A young heroine (eighteen- or nineteen-years old) who not only dates the older man (anything older than thirty and I’m throwing my kindle across the room), but gets him to stop his whorish ways and fall in love with her. Are we just setting up a ton of young women for heart break? Here’s a clue. Men don’t change for a woman. They have to want to change. Lecture over. Oh wait, on to point 2.
Virgins. I have no problem whatsoever with a heroine (or hero for that matter) being a virgin. When. It. Fits. The. Plot! So often it doesn’t make any sense and doesn’t add to the story. And of then our virgin is deflowered and the sex is explosive and totally hot. Not one moment of awkwardness. Yeah, right. *snorts in disbelief*
Cheating. I should probably narrow that down because cheating is – unfortunately – very much a part of life and – as a motive for murder or revenge – it’s awesome because it’s totally believable. A woman scorned and all that. But when a heroine cheats on her man and then falls in love with the hero and the hero and heroine live happily ever after? Um no. Make that N.O. And don’t get me started on a hero who constantly cheats on the heroine, but she takes him back time and time again and yet they have a happy ending. Really? *Rolls eyes*
Unbelievably successful twenty-year-olds. Twenty-seven-year-old billionaire, twenty-five-year-old managing director, a blog with 750,000 followers after just a few months. And that’s not the worst part. Nope. Most of the time these far-fetched success stories aren’t even necessary for the plot itself. Heck, it might even be a good book if I could just ignore the fact that a 25-year-old woman cannot possibly have saved enough money to start a high-end clothing store in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Who said time is relative? Because it ain’t that flexible.

I won’t even get started on princes falling in love with the simply, country girl. I am a citizen of a country with royalty. Trust me, they’re just normal people. And not all that good looking (sorry if I just ruined your fantasy). And now I’m starting to wonder if I’m not a snob, but just a teensy weensy bit cynical. Nah, I’ll stick with snob.