It's been exceedingly difficult to not take full advantage of all the rain and nap/read in bed all the dang time. But I'm doing the next best thing: working in the library. That never brings me down.
(That hardback of Curtis Sittenfeld's American Wife has been face out (in a weird way) next to that jumble of paperbacks all week. And all week, I've wanted to fix it, but I haven't because I'm just a patron.)
On Tuesday morning, the minute they opened (and after I got settled at my favorite table in the back corner), approximately five billion children came racing in to get summer reading books. It was awesome and lovely and wonderful to see--even if I didn't recognize any of the titles they were chattering about.
Since then, a steady trickle of teenagers has come through, too, looking at the newest YA releases--and part of me really wants to subtly direct them to my right where the romance lives. (Maybe I should take a page from the person who randomly front-faced American Wife and do some rearranging of the Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Sarah MacLean titles.)
There's not a lot of romance shelved in this library. Most of the adult patrons seem to skew to the upmarket women's fiction set. And though I wish there were a more robust and dedicated romance section, I do enjoy watching people browse through fiction and come across gems.
MaybeI'll suggest a Blind Date With A Book feature and curate it with some romance titles. But for now, I'll just stare out at the rain. . .
UPDATE: I'm not in the habit of taking creeper photos but I SO WANT to show you a picture of this woman's book tote. It's so awesome, y'all. It has books on shelves and I wish I could talk to strangers because I want to ask her where she got it.
UPDATE ON THE UPDATE: she just picked up a hidden Elizabeth Boyle. She's my kind of lady.