Hey Fabio, commence with the bodice ripping!
When Dave gave me a kindle for Valentine's Day last year, it unwittingly opened Pandora's box to a guilty pleasure: free romance novels.
I feel justified in my affection for the tales of orphaned woman falling ass-backwards into a torrid affair with their boss/doctor/rancher/local bazillionaire. My grandmother consumed these tales daily, and I remember her selling, buying, trading her Avon boxes (the reliable 70s equivalent to today's copier paper boxes) with other enthusiasts.
The genre is a billion dollar business, even if no one admits to reading them. I can attest during my ah, research, there are genres within the genre: western, contemporary, Christian, Amish, comedy, vampires, merry Ol' England. You can pick what trips your trigger, be is romance, bondage, soft-core porn, psychological thrillers.
And it's not just for heterosexual middle aged housewives. There are stories for readers of all ages, and orientation.
What I don't like about them is the stereotypical set up: gal with no family (why?); brooding millionaire with black hair who is almost always angry with a secret; the inevitable pregnancy at the end. There are some books that I start where I can predict the ending within 4% of the book read (no more page counts, not on a kindle).
I know what I like, and maybe that's the biggest joke of all, the contemporary ones that reflect the world that I inhabit. I don't need to pretend to be a vampire, a scandalized lady in waiting, a rock star who forgets her birth control, or a penniless spitfire desperate to hold onto the family farm. I like the ones that make me laugh, the slow and easy romances that come together easily with superhot passion.
Kind of like me. Bah dum dum ching!
Really, I do like the ones that do break away from the formula, although I will tolerate the occasional miracle baby. They're a nice way to pass the time and read myself to sleep.
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