Kids! For some reason, sitting on a towel on some sand near water has always been viewed as a valid excuse to abandon all literary aspiration and read lurid, purple prose. And we'll take it! Some all-time favorites:

Forget your Rebeccas, your Secret Historys, your Stieg Larssens. Page-turning they may be, but when we say "beach read," we're talking about the books whose covers you conceal from your airplane seat neighbor, the ones for which Lillian Vernon used to sell those anonymous needlepoint covers. Maeve Binchy? Marion Keyes? Much too respectable. Yes, anything with Fabio qualifies, and bonus points for Harlequins with "virgin" in the title (if you can work in "sheik," "mogul" or "Italian" so much the better) or Bertrice Small novels. But if we're talking about the essential beach-read arsenal? Read on: