We are romance readers.
We devour books in one sitting and ponder the intricate meanings of our favorite fictitious relationships. We seek out tame paperback covers to read in public and hide racy ones behind magazines at the doctor's office.
We read in ebook format hoping no one notices the words dripping and quivering accidentally highlighted on the screen.
We are romance readers and, alas, we are a wee bit ashamed.
But be ashamed no longer dear friends. Display those sweaty chests and scantily clad women with pride. Boldly browse the romance section and smile wide while purchasing enough erotica to last your family a month.
For it's us seasoned readers understand that Dean Koontz's Whispers contains more graphic sex than Laura Moore's Rosewood Trilogy and that Tina Folsom's Scanguard Vampires is more scathing than the Game of Thrones cast having a three way.
We like love, we enjoy romance and you're darn right we expect a happy ending.
Let the others swoon over Patrick Swayze in Ghost yet condemn the same scene in print. We know reading about sex is the same as watching it on television. Books may be descriptive, but movies flaunt naked body parts in your face the size of a theater screen. And there's grunting. Maybe they'll make a movie of 50 Shades of Grey. Huh.
Let's ban together, fellow romance readers, and show everyone what they're missing.
...but you go first. I feel safer behind my silhouette.
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What are you dirty little secrets?