Market Research
By Mike Maillaro | August 15, 2026
When I first started writing The Story Of You, I never knew I’d have to learn all these fun publishing terms like querying, tropes, trad publishing, and comps.
That last one is truly the bane of my existence. "Tell us what books your book is similar to" just screams: "There are no original ideas left out there... and even if there are, you better not try to publish one, because originality is going to scare everyone off."
When I wrote The Story of You, I honestly hadn't read many romance novels. Finding comps has been an agonizing process of trial and error, mostly involving stalking various social media groups to hunt down leads.
So last weekend, I decided to conduct some actual field research and headed over to the Barnes & Noble at Menlo Park Mall to survey the romance section.
The first thing that jumped out at me was that I was the only guy there. The aisle was populated entirely by women, many of them teenagers or in their early twenties. I immediately decided to abort the mission before I made anyone uncomfortable. In my head, all I could hear was, "What is that weird, creepy guy doing stalking the romance section?"
I slunk back to my wife in the children's section, her usual hangout. She’s an elementary school teacher, not a fellow creep, I swear.
When I told her why I was back so soon, she suggested, "Why don't you just go back over there and ask those women for recommendations?" As a massive introvert who is painfully aware of the creepy aura I can project, she might as well have asked me to single-handedly cure cancer.
Fortunately, I got a temporary reprieve when my son texted me to look for the final book in the Mistborn series to complete his set. By the time I found it and walked back, the romance section was completely empty of shoppers. I hurried over to finally get a lay of the land.
The first thing I noticed was that romantasy, especially dark romantasy, had taken over multiple shelves of its own. While Mike Maillaro might not be able to figure out where his book belongs, the works of Ethan Blackwood would fit right in. And since no one else seems to be doing high-fantasy romance set in the Scottish Highlands, he’d be a total trendsetter! Or maybe not... I doubt he could find comps either. And as we know, comps are the most important thing in the world.
Beyond the romantasy realm, I immediately hit a massive wall of hockey romance books. Entire shelves were lined with titles like Heated Rivalry, Pucking Around, Double Pucked, Behind the Net, The Pucking Wrong Number, and the simply titled Pucked. I had no idea hockey players were always DTF.
These are all real titles, by the way. I jotted them down carefully. Reality is a better comedy writer than I will ever be. I did find a book with a baseball bat on the cover, diversity matters, after all. The title was not a pun at all…Just for the Plot? It felt so out of place!!
I started wondering what the baseball equivalent of “Pucking” was.
Grand Slammin’?
Playing the Field?
Slidin’ into Home Plate with My Cleats On?
Apparently baseball romance authors have not yet achieved the same level of commitment to the pun. This is an untapped…field.
I am so sorry.
Full disclosure: I actually read Pucking Around a few weeks ago. It was, without hyperbole, the horniest book I have ever read in my life. The plot had some strange logic issues, but I could definitely see the appeal. The sex scenes were admittedly pretty hot.
Skating right past the ice rink, I found shelves upon shelves of brightly colored, cartoon-style covers that all visually seemed to be variations of the exact same book. It was kind of beautiful, but it was getting me no closer to finding my elusive comps, which I was starting to suspect were a myth invented by literary agents to test my sanity.
At this point, the aisle was starting to fill up with women again. Feeling the pressure, I jotted down some quick notes and fled the scene of the crime before security could be called.
Of course, this was all in my head. I am 100% positive no one in that store gave me a second look during my entire excursion. No one was judging me. No one was calling security. I actually suspect many of the women would have been happy to help me out if I explained what I was doing. But that makes for a far less interesting story.
I escaped from that Barnes & Noble with a notebook full of potential comps, my research completed, and my dignity mostly intact. I consider that a resounding success. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go outline my next blockbuster hockey romance: Go Puck Yourself.
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Epilouge. Reality remains undefeated. This popped up on Facebook today.
I would like to formally apologize to Amy Award, the author of The Cock Down the Block, for ever doubting that other sports could be as horny and punful as Pucking Around.
We have…
A literal rooster standing in for the middle letter,
A sports stadium in the background,
A guy going to town on a girl's neck,
And a title that is somehow even more aggressively committed to the concept than Go Puck Yourself.
I think we should name a prize for best horny sports related cover the Amy Award!