Months and months ago (maybe years by this point) I was browsing a book store. It was a Barnes & Noble. I was with my sister. It may have been winter.
I had nearly given up my search for something entertaining and walked out empty handed when this cover caught my eye:
I mean, really… “chow’s on?” How can you not laugh? I couldn’t resist picking it up. I’m a sucker for clever cover art. And despite my then complete lack of interest in all things vampires, I was intrigued. So, I bought it. And for the next few weeks, I worked my way through the eight books that made up the series.
(Sadly, somewhere along the way, the cover art went from cute and clever to… to… this:
Still… they were funny and romantic and cleverly written. Up until that point, my image of vampires consisted of what I’d learned from watching Interview with the Vampire, which was really very good, but vampires? Ew. Thanks, but no thanks. They just never did it for me.
But I loved the Argeneau series. I more than appreciated the way the author explained Vampires and how they came to be. It was smart and fun. And not creepy.
Now, I wonder. Had that series of books not softened my feelings towards vampires, would I have still read Twilight? And if I’d never read Twilight, would I have been at all intrigued by the HBO series True Blood?
No, I’ve never seen True Blood. The Husband and I only order HBO for three months during the Summer to catch Entourage, so I only saw the previews and heard the rave reviews after it had started it’s second season. But it’s based off a series of books by Charlaine Harris. So, I have in my possession book one. Dead Until Dark. And the cover art?
Would be kinda hot if not for the creepy tongue.
Although, let’s face it. None of these are quite as bad as…
So, in conclusion, Lynsay Sands is completely responsible for my downfall.
And some cover art really sucks.
And vampires… some vampires… aren’t so bad.