So You Want to Read a Romance Novel?

I see you, pretty lady. Indeed, that is one valiant effort to be discrete but I still see you. All craning your neck and contorting yourself trying to get a look at the cover of my book. Go on, then. Just ask me. You wouldn’t be the first woman to ask about my romance novel and I’m quite sure you won’t be the last.

It’s that stigma, right? Smutty. Superficial. Anti-feminist. Anti-intellcutal. Something sad, affection-starved women read while inhaling ice cream. And like, I mean, they’re about women enjoying…SEX! *staves off the vapors*

Seriously, it’s okay. I love Jesus too. Relax, girl.

Maybe you’re thinking a romance novel is, at best, a guilty pleasure. Something you should stash away in the shameful corners of your kindle library where all the smarter and more cerebral people will never see it.  Lady, I get it. I studied literature in college. Bla bla fancy-degree degrees, bla bla high-brow…bla, bla, bla. This isn’t new, people.

As long as the English Novel has even existed people have been freaking out about women reading. We’re talking as early as the mid to late 1700s. Women liked novels so novels must therefore be bad. Obviously. Throw in the emotions and strong feelings of a romantic novel and you had a bonafide public moral crisis! Trivial. Vapid. Even *gasp* dangerous!

That old chestnut.

A familiar example? Jane Eyre was considered to be a “naughty” book when it was first published. Jane Eyre, folks. Then, when they all found out that Mr. Bell was actually Miss Bronte, well…*cue the hand-wringing and moral pontificating* (Further readingIf you feel like it.)

Have you ever stopped to consider that this very female genre with mostly female authors writing for predominantly female readers might be consistently denigrated because… it’s a very female genre with mostly female authors writing for  predominantly female readers? Don’t you think that kind of sucks?

Can you imagine a world where the subjects and genres that interest women aren’t automatically dismissed?

I’m here today to tell you that a good romance novel can change your life. A good one. One that’s well written and smart. This mama will willingly give up precious sleep for a good romance novel. Because this mama’s got needs.

Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not even talking about those needs necessarily. What if I told you that the right romance novel could make you feel more confident in your own skin? Make you laugh so hard that your dog looks at you like you’re an idiot? Make you ugly-cry?  The right romance novel will make you proud to be female and send you floating back out into your life believing that women kick ass and true love rules the world. You do know it’s okay to chase that feeling, right?

So you want to read a romance novel? You know you do. I’d be happy to help. Just ask me. I’ve been reading romance novels since I was a thirteen-year-old brat sneaking into my mom’s bedroom closet where she thought hers were well hidden. (Sorry, Mom!)

So let’s get it on.

Ahhhhhh, baby.

Let’s get it on.


A disorganized, overly dramatic SAHM of two girls finding her center after secondary infertility. Caffeine queen. Romance fiend. Welcome to my nerd show.

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