Two of Grandma's romance novels - oh, my

Totally. Warped. I skimmed, because actually reading became far too painful.

Claire, 1919

Starts out with a blind guy going down with a sinking ship.  He winds up washing ashore somewhere in remote Chile.  He trips over something soft on the beach, which turns out to be Claire.  There were already many clues that this was not going to be a particularly well-written book, but I completely gave up when, while Claire and blind guy were talking, her eyes flashed from hazel to brown.  He's blind... she's not looking in a mirror....  Hey, I'm as fond of shifting POVs as the next gal, but I've allowed myself to be edumicated as to some of the pitfalls.

They wind up in a cabin with a fellow named Philip.  1919, two men and a woman stranded in a cabin until spring comes. 

( Read more... )

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What kind of crack were they smoking back then?  This is what made the hearts of housewives and shopgirls race?  *boggles*  I've still got half a dozen more books to look at, but now I'm afraid to.  *looks at bookshelf with loathing*