100 books like The Infamous Miss Rodriguez

I love this book because it brings two lost souls together for the trip of a lifetime. The heroine, Anna, is an emotional wreck, struggling to move on from the death of her fiance. The hero, Keane, is a steady guy recovering from a major accident. Anna needs a sailing partner for her trip around the Caribbean, and Keane is the perfect man for the job.

I’m a sucker for messy, imperfect heroines like Anna. Trish Doller delivers relatable characters in a charming page-turner of a romance. I love the island-hopping journey, Keane’s Irish accent, and all of Anna’s missteps as she navigates a sea change. 

This is the OG of island romance. It’s also controversial due to the age difference between the characters. Anna (30F) and TJ (16M) get stranded on a deserted island together after their plane crashes in the Indian Ocean. Over the next three years, they stay alive against all odds and develop an unbreakable bond. Although TJ is enamored with Anna from the start, she doesn’t return his feelings or even see him as a man until he turns 19. By then, he’d become a strong survivor and an essential life partner.

I’m not a big fan of age-gap romance, but Graves makes it work without making it weird. This is an extraordinary story with grit and heart. I got totally swept away.

Have you heard about the “grumpy/sunshine” trend? My next book has this popular trope and more—a jilted heroine, a jaded hero, cute banter, and sunny beach vibes.

Eden and Philip are strangers on solo vacations, both nursing broken hearts, when they meet-cute at a tiki bar. Eden’s warm personality melts Philip’s cool reserve, and they tumble into a steamy island affair. I like the way gruff workaholic Philip rolls up his sleeves to give Eden the holiday she deserves. Love is always the best revenge. 

This book offers a perfect escape. It has swoony nostalgia, down-to-earth characters, and an idyllic seaside setting. The heroine, Meg, is a seasoned woman at 39. She owns a quaint bed and breakfast that needs repairs. Seth is a mysterious loner who breezes into Meg’s life at the right moment. He has handyman skills, a Southern accent, and deep secrets. The truth is revealed in slow measures as they fall hopelessly in love.

I can’t resist a fixer-upper romance, and I love the scene where they make lilac water together. This Summer Island book gave me a peaceful, easy feeling from start to finish.

This is an oldie but a goodie. There are not many accessible books about the earliest years of Spanish colonization, but this is probably one of the best. With a terrific narrative style, Wilson showcases the years of Columbus's leadership at the head of the earliest colonizing efforts, and the increasing dissatisfaction of Spanish colonists towards Columbus, who was seen by many as a tyrant. In addition to this, Wilson reads between the lines of Spanish documents, and with the help of archaeological evidence, provides the reader with insightful interpretations of indigenous life, actions, and motivations.

I’ve been watching the Miss America pageant since elementary school, when I wore a tin foil crown, a towel pinned as a cap, and stuffed my swimsuit with tennis balls for boobs. So learning the history – how suffragettes used beauty pageants as a way to get attention – was fascinating. Friedman is a sociology professor whose mom was Miss America 1970, so there is no greater expert. We get both sides here: the sparkly benefits plus a dive into the body-shaming and bulimia of the 80s when they printed measurements in the program. A Boob’s Life, covers the history of breast implants in the contest, so I quote her as a source. But I would have read it just for fun.

Miss America memoirs tend to be a frothy, humble-braggy business, but Kate Shindle’s well-researched, searingly honest exposé Being Miss America: Behind the Rhinestone Curtain is complex and entertaining. It includes a lively narrative history of the pageant, a warts-and-all account of her own (successful) bid for the 1998 title, a damning analysis of its hypocrisies and shady business practices, and the revelation that competing gave her eating and exercise disorders. She courageously calls herself a hypocrite for publicly pretending Miss America “was all about the big picture while privately striving for an impossible aesthetic.” Still, because of the power it gave her to change the world through her AIDS awareness platform, Shindle, now an actress and president of the Actors Equity Association, says “I wouldn’t trade that year for anything.” 

I’ll read anything Kate DeCamillo writes. She is just so good. No matter the heartbreak that Raymie Nightingale faces (her dad’s just recently run off with the dental hygienist), Raymie has a plan. She’s going to win the Little Miss Central Florida Tire Competition, her dad will see her picture in the paper, and then surely (maybe?) he’ll come home. Raymie gets through with friends who weren’t always her friends: the “frequently fainting” Louisiana Elefante, and feisty Beverly Tapinski. Together, “the three rancheros” challenge, but ultimately save, one another. Some friendships are not “like at first sight”!

Starting from the premise that beauty pageants are often dismissed as “frivolous, meaningless, or carnivalesque and therefore unworthy of serious sustained intellectual scrutiny,” (4) Banet-Weiser shows how class and race, patriotism, and community values are embodied on the pageant stage. Crucially, she proves that the Miss America pageant doesn’t mean “one thing to one audience” and explains how what may seem like an expression of individual ambition is more frequently a reflection of national ideals—and biases.  

A history of campus pageants going back to the 1920s, Queens of Academe considers not only their “calibrations of class and femininity,” but also their racial and (overwhelmingly Christian) religious underpinnings. Tice chronicles how campus competitions (many of which are feeder pageants for Miss America) allayed fears that educated women would renounce home and hearth, and traces the ways they’ve evolved to reflect social progress. Two chapters—“We are Here: Pageants as Racial ‘Homeplaces’ and Ethnic Combat Zones” and “Flesh and Spirit: Bibles, Beauty and Bikinis”—examine neglected aspects of pageant scholarship, showing how Black swimsuit contestants faced a unique challenge in deflecting the pernicious Jezebel trope by proving their worth through demonstrations of etiquette, grooming, and racial progress. Even male contestants swagger through these pages—including a Mr. Harvard hopeful who competed in see-through tape and rose-petal pasties.