I secretly enjoy reading . . .
oh, I can’t say . . .
Well, I’ve got to admit it . . .
I refuse to be ashamed of the fact that of all the genres I read, of all the authors I respect and sometimes try to emulate, of all the literary, historical, suspense and contemporary fiction I read, what I most enjoy is . . .
I fought this knowledge for a long time.
Even when I, myself, published two books that can be categorized as “women’s fiction.”
Instead, I call the genre of my novels “romantic suspense,” both words being true.
But basically, I write women’s fiction.
Why should that be embarrassing or shameful? How horrible, that I have been sucked into the male-dominated literary power structure of believing that books written for, by, and about women are somehow… LESS.
A close friend recently attended…
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