(*Author’s note: this is the third in a recurring Burnpoetry mini-series involving a new, highly absurd, pastime. Looking at the covers of Romance novels at my local grocery stores, surreptitiously photographing them with my phone and then breaking down the ins, outs, and made up plotlines of each. Idiotic? Absolutely. Fun? Definitely.)
Title: Rancher’s Perfect Baby Rescue
The Book Cover: To the left, a gorgeous woman wearing an excruciatingly rustic flannel shirt. She stares intently off into the distance, looking towards the unknown. What could she be staring out? Is it a solitary, blossoming wildflower growing amongst the wild grass on the bluffs of the desolate Wyoming prairie? Is it the dusk, burning down slowly to a passionate, sultry evening? Or is it some shirtless dude, hammering or plowing or doing cowboy stuff?
Her hands are snaked around the definitely buff, and definitely denim-clad, arms of an unknown male. Wrapped up in those same rough-from-manual-labor-but-soft-en0ugh-to-make-a-housewife-sob hands is a baby. Why a baby? Who the hell knows. My guess is she’s being “rescued.” With her back to the reader she’s nearly as mysterious as her protector, but she is also very definitely rocking denim.
The man so lovingly, sturdily cradling the young baby in his arms is obscured by the top of the book. His arms are corded muscle, even through flannel over denim over flannel you can tell his thick arms are perfectly toned for hammering in fence posts or tossing bales of hay into the back of his undoubtedly beat up pickup truck or wrapping firmly around the waists of lonely, en-fevered-with-passion farmwives. Mostly probably that last one.
His face is obscured. Mysterious. A square, jutting jaw that would make Jon Hamm feel suddenly inadequate, is all that can be seen. Who is this mystery man? Clearly he’s good with kids. Clearly he knows his way around the ladies. What’s not clear is who the f- he is or why we only get a one-nostril view of him on the cover. Also, isn’t that baby blocking his 14 pack abs that appear to be chiseled from the limestone of the prairie by riding bucking broncos? What’s with the weird ring this dude is rocking on his right hand? Is his name “Rancher” like the title would lead you to believe?
All of these questions leave me dizzy with anticipation until I cannot help but open the first page and dive headlong into the rich, warm pages of this book. And by “me” I mean, the 44-year-old that was standing next to me staring hypnotically at the book while I tried to take a pic with my camera phone.
At the bottom of the cover: “This town harbors a shocking secret. . .” is emblazoned in flowing script. Is the secret that the town is home to a cowboy with half a face? Is it that everyone there wears denim on denim outfits that make rodeos look like the runway at New York Fashion week? Or is it perhaps something more. . .sinister? (*Author’s note: yes, more sinister than denim)
What deep, dark secrets could a place called “Perfect” really hold? I mean, c’mon, it has “perfect” as its name. There simply couldn’t be anything wrong with a place like that.
Completely Made up Plotline: Butch Bonifacio is a hardened cowboy. Living the life of a true plains nomad, he goes where the cattle go. His is a life of solitude. Of living off the land. The true cowboy way that has been passed down from generation to generation, hard-cut man t0 hard-cut man. Butch has little need for human relations when his idea of a perfect dinner for two is a pot of beans cooked over an open fire to be shared with his faithful hounddog, Ford. The people of Perfect, Wyoming know 2 things: Butch is a man who gets things done and Butch is not to be tied down.
Coming and going like a prairie wind, when Butch decides it is time for him to move on he rides like a man trying to leave his very past behind. But what mysteries lie within that dark, shrouded past that the townsfolk only whisper about?
Lillian Lofthouse is a city girl. Born and raised in amongst the towering skyscrapers of uptown Manhattan she is as cosmopolitan as her favorite drink. She has heels on her bathslippers, diamonds on her necklaces and a blackbook filled with bad boys from her past. A burgeoning star on the advertising circuit, when she finds out that her inevitably mean and sarcastic boss is sending her out to head the new tourism campaign from a dust-and-hard-scrabble town called Perfect, she can’t believe her luck. Her bad luck. (*Author’s note: Hiiiiio-oooohhh!!!)
Leaving behind her soon-to-be-philandering-to-advance-the-plotline boyfriend, her comic-relief-offering best friend, and putting her poodle into her carry-on bag she grudgingly heads for the Midwest.
If opposites attract than polar opposites react. (*Author’s note: I’m not really sure what that means, but it sounded like a tagline for a romance novel.)
In the dark and still of the night, a baby crying can be heard. It pierces the prairie air, rending hearts and puzzling minds. This weeping enigma can be heard throughout the town and the unfolding tragedy of a baby in need of rescue may be the only thing that these two fiery lovers can agree upon.
In a town full of secrets, will the heated passion of two people from different sides of the tracks be enough to illuminate the darkness? Will their rescue of the baby be perfect, or just okay? Will we ever get to see that dude’s full face or will it forever lurk at the edges of the page like a half-seen yeti in a nerd’s conspiracy video?
The questions may be flawed, but the story is. . .perfect.
Fake Taglines for the Back of the Novel:
– “I want all of my salads to come with ranch. . .er!”
– Butch Bonifacio: Abs of steel, heart of gold
– The only thing square about this tough guy rancher is his rugged jaw.
– “Cowboy? More like badboy!!!”
FIN
Burnpoetry 
never try to stand in the way of a fan and the next romance novel. No need to read the book, the title says it all