I’m officially declaring Orangeville’s Paw & Claws to be the town’s unofficial “romance” novel depot. We have bushels of ’em; two for a quarter.
Perhaps being in the “family way” myself has made me more sensitive to this type of pulp. When I went in for my volunteer shift this week, I instantly spotted this little delight:
Thank goodness I’m already married, finding a subjugator who’s not the baby-daddy is a real bitch.