While doing a signing for my latest romance novel, a woman passed by, picked up my book, and immediately wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t read these kinds of books,” she said.
“What do you read?” I asked.
She slapped it down on the table as if it was so far beneath her she couldn’t bare to touch it any longer. “Something with at least a hint of realism.”
“I’m sorry for you,” I said.
And I meant it.
Because, good romance novels aren’t fairy tales. They are snapshots of love at its finest.