It’s Not Just Me. Right?

Of all the New Year’s resolutions I made this month–walking more, using more Listerine, watching my Hulu shows before they expire–I’ve got an extra-weird one: stop being embarrassed about reading romance.

I’ve always been drawn to television shows and movies brimming with love stories and sexual tension, but when it comes to books, I’ve often felt like I should be reading something else. Faulkner, maybe, or just something with a book cover not featuring a half-naked man.

But the thing is, I love it when I find love in books. When I’ve read a classic or a piece of literary fiction that has a bit of romance or a snippet of sex, I’ve relished it, like I’ve found a toy at the bottom of a box of cereal.

And it’s not just me. One of my favorite bits of book news last month was about NPR creating an app to help readers find their next book by matching up certain tags. The most common tag search? “Seriously great writing” combined with “Let’s talk about sex.” People want great writing, and they want to read great sex, too. These things are not incompatible.

2013 was the year I really dived into my own fiction writing–which is, as it turns out, romance. In addition to continuing to write in 2014, I’m also going to dive into great romance reads with a contemporary romance reading challenge.

It’s going to be a fantastic year.