Image Credit: Rob Kim/Retna LtdI’m increasingly unsure if Jennifer Love Hewitt is simply harmless and corny — a big-boobed Bambi with nothing but heart-shaped intentions — or if she is in fact some kind of evil genius.
The young woman, a favorite punching bag on blogs and in rags over her unremarkable weight and dating history, has what appears to be a thriving TV show even if I don’t know anyone who has ever caught an episode. She gets work, even if it often is in direct response to her romantic woes. Now she’s gone and capitalized on all those splattered shots at love and poured them into a new Hallmark card-sized book, The Day I Shot Cupid: Hello, My Name is Jennifer Love Hewitt and I’m a Love-aholic. The book is pocket-sized, possibly 350 words in length, with a busty cartoon caricature of the young author on the front and a Harlequin romance-style head shot of her on the back. In the photo she is all blushing cheeks in a field of flowers, wearing what appears to be a Danielle Steele creation of pink wispy negligee. The writing itself feels ripped straight from any high school girl’s binder, lots of hearts and P.S.’s. There is an awkward example of sex-texting that doesn’t bear repeating. There is an unfortunate ode from her now ex-boyfriend Jamie Kennedy to the marvels of a shapely woman’s rear. (“Ladies, ladies, ladies, let me tell you something. Stop trippin’ on yo’ butt.”) There is even a chapter on what to do when you find skid marks on your fella’s under shorts. (“I have been introduced to Mr. Brown before and I didn’t handle it well at first,” she confesses. Her giggles jump right off the page!) And of course, as you may have already seen on her promotional rounds for her debut book, there is the sincere recommendation of self-crystallization.
EW’s box-office expert Nicole Sperling is predicting that 
