![]() I never used to read the genre, save for the mostly-chaste YA love stories that defined my adolescence. As in a please-dear-god-don’t-ever-let-a-stranger-see-what’s-lurking-on-my-Kindle amount of romance. I want to be the type of reader who keeps her shelves stocked with high-brow classics and contemporary literature found in yearly Top 10 lists - I do! I swear! - and yet throughout the pandemic, I’ve gone from reading mostly thrillers and award-winning adult fiction to a truly astounding amount of romance. ![]() There’s almost a giddy shame in the purchase of books like these - we all know they’re the literary equivalent of cotton candy, something delicious to be devoured quickly, though not exactly something we want to brag about. (Or….something.) Instead they crash land on a Hoth-like planet populated by big blue dudes with tails and on their which they use to. Yes, as in that Ice Planet Barbarians, the viral, batshit crazy, Tik-Tok-approved “alien romance” that I can’t seem to escape on the internet these days.įor the uninformed, it follows the female human survivors of a wrecked alien spacecraft, who were abducted from Earth while they slept on and initially intended to be sold on some vague alien meat market. ![]() Well, dear reader, I finally did it: I spent $15.99 of my hard-earned money to purchase Ice Planet Barbarians by Ruby Dixon. ![]()
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