How Steamy, Exactly? Expectations About Sex in Romance Novels | Kella Campbell
I've been a romance reader from the time I was old enough to buy my own books — or, to be honest, from the time I was old enough to convince my dad that I needed a book instead of a comic when he took my two younger brothers and me on an evening "expedition" to Mayfair News (probably to give our mother a break). Mayfair News was full of newspapers from all over the world, an enormous selection of comic books and magazines, and a wire carousel of romance and suspense novels. There was also a glass-topped freezer chest full of Popsicles and Fudgsicles and Creamsicles and Revellos. I loved those late-night adventures with my dad and brothers; in retrospect, we were probably home for bedtime at nine, but it was dark out. I'm pretty sure my dad has never read a romance novel, so I'm assuming he had no idea what went on inside those shiny covers with their embossed swirly titles and partially-dressed couples. He probably didn't even look at the covers too closely, being more interested in