This cover is called The Substitute Wife, but the only thing being substituted here is graphic design… with vibes.
Let’s start with the floating torsos, because they deserve a moment. Up top, we have a muscular man posed like he’s about to pitch you a protein powder subscription. He’s shirtless, glistening, and staring directly into your soul with all the emotional range of a gym mirror selfie. Below him? A platinum-blond young man who looks like he got lost on his way to a modeling agency’s LinkedIn page. They aren’t making eye contact, sharing a space, or even existing in the same visual reality. They’re just there, like two JPEGs dragged together on a middle schooler’s first Photoshop assignment.
Now let’s talk layout—or the complete abandonment of it. The title, The Substitute Wife, is jammed awkwardly in the upper left corner like a guilty secret. “Part One” hovers in the center like a glitch. And poor Keegan Kennedy’s name is slouched down in the lower right corner, barely visible, like even the author is trying to quietly disassociate from this visual experiment.
And that font? It’s highlighter yellow. On black. With no styling. No shadow, no texture, no sense of belonging. It looks like it was typed into a default text box in MS Word and never touched again. There’s no hierarchy. No design choices. Just… text. Floating. Judging you.
Now, for the background—or lack thereof. It’s a sad patchwork of solid black and dark gray rectangles, like a failed attempt at minimalism that tripped over its own color swatches. There’s no setting. No ambiance. Just a pair of models awkwardly hanging out in an abyss of poor decisions.
As for the tone of the cover? We don’t know if this is erotic romance, psychological drama, or a fitness influencer’s memoir. All we know is that we’re being watched by two men who clearly have no idea they’ve been cast in something titled The Substitute Wife.
This isn’t a book cover—it’s a hostage photo from the Stock Image Dungeon.
The only thing being substituted here is taste, with a generous helping of what is even happening. If design had a witness protection program, this cover would be enrolled under an alias by now.
So here it is, in all its shirtless, font-crime glory:
A cover that asks nothing of you but to quietly lower your expectations and accept that sometimes, two random dudes and an empty background are all you’re getting.
Someone get this “wife” a new layout. Or at least a background.