So I poo pooed romance until my early fourties because I thought I was too good for it: too intellectual, a feminist, snobby, I don't know. And then one day on a weekend away with girlfriends I bought a paperback romance novel at a ferry terminal for $1 and consumed it in a weekend. It was so bad, but I couldn't stop. Then I binge read romance for a few years. It scratches an itch that is hard to define and provides an escape that sometimes you need in this world. Or maybe I just got over myself and don't give a shit anymore.

Nonetheless, the genre is in desparate need of characters over the age of twenty-something. Here is my contribution.