“Building Romance” looks less like a steamy rom-com and more like a warning poster for OSHA violations in a dating app office. If graphic design is your passion, this cover is the part where your passion calls HR and files a complaint.
Let’s start with the background: a pastel-yellow wall of doom that dares your retinas to survive the onslaught. It’s aggressively cheerful, like a motivational poster that’s been microwaved. The building outline behind the couple? It has the soul of a default PowerPoint shape. No dimension, no texture, just the digital ghost of “we tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.”
Now, the title font. “Building” looks like it was sketched by someone who once saw graffiti on a YouTube thumbnail. It’s jagged, bubbly, and oddly shy in contrast to “ROMANCE,” which stomps in like a drunken groomsman yelling at karaoke night. The all-caps block letters in black are supposed to be bold, but they just look like they lost a bet with kerning.
Our couple in the foreground is here to pose… awkwardly. He’s got the stance of a mid-level manager attempting charisma. She, meanwhile, is wielding a wrench and a hammer like she’s about to reenact Fixer Upper: Battle Royale. Her proportions teeter between “romance heroine” and “anime sidekick,” while his are stiff enough to be mistaken for clip art from a business ethics manual.
Their chemistry? As flat as the building behind them. There’s no spark—just the visual equivalent of small talk at a hardware store.
Oh, and speaking of tools—why does she have both a wrench and a hammer? Is she planning to build romance or bludgeon it into existence?
Finally, the tagline: “USA Today & International Bestselling Author.” A commendable achievement, but here it feels like a neon bumper sticker on a banana. No matter how impressive the resume, this cover needed a renovation crew and a permit before seeing daylight.
Conclusion:
“Building Romance” tried to construct love from scaffolding made of stock vectors, Comic Sans’ rebellious cousin, and a color scheme that screams “banana emergency.” Tear it down to the foundation, and start over—with blueprints this time.