We all have them. Those little guilty pleasures, those books we hide at the back of our bookshelves. No, I am not talking erotica, although it could fit. I am talking about those cliché little books that have been written a thousand times, the plot seemingly unchanging. Like the million different Cinderella retellings that seem to only change the names and a few superfluous details and call it a day. Or perhaps the cliché is a pretty young, innocent woman who has men throwing themselves at her. Or maybe it’s the super popular jock who falls for the nerd who also happens to be a total babe after removing her glasses and taking out her ponytail. You know those themes that are repeated over and over and over again, yet we still read them over and over and over again. We all have them.
What is my guilty pleasure? Ha. That’s a loaded question. I have quite a few, some of which I guard very secretly, hidden away on my kindle beneath thousands (and I really do mean thousands) of other novels. If my husband found out about some of them, oh he would laugh. Maybe call a shrink, or group my family in together and hold an intervention. That’d be fun. I’ll throw you a bone and tell you one of mine. A lesser one, of course! I absolutely adore when a cold, powerful man falls for the warm-hearted young girl. It is so utterly cliché, but I love it. I guess it can also be chucked up to my love of villains. Whatever it is, take a powerful man and make him fall for the sweet, but headstrong young woman and I giggle like a school girl.
This cliché obsession is easily transferred to YA, for example a young rising celebrity who hates what the industry is making him into falls for an “ordinary” girl. I’m pretty sure there is a Disney Channel movie about that. Ha. Of course there is, I watch it with my girls all the time. Either way, that’s one of my guilty pleasures.