Love it.

Since my dad read about the Odysseus to me at 6. Every evening. From a thick, thick book with lovely covers. That Penelope was one patient – and tricky –  lady!

There is  Enid Blyton. And Desiree.  Winnetou.  Princess Daisy, that I still know by heart.  Harlequin, introduced me to reading in english. There was only a small selection of english book sin our librarry, but it was like a shole world to me I even liked school reading material. I read the classisc like Kafka, when I was homesick abroad as an au pair; there I started reading in german – could I pick a better book to start with then Parfum? All this lead to the lovely cover and shitty, crappy description on the last page on the book that I picked up in the mall, that turned out to be an introduction into the world of quality romance novel books? That, furthermore,  lead me to the forum of equal minded people, so diferent yet the same, all over the world.

I met some of them, I talk to some daily, I will never met the others.

My mom allways hid the books away from me (and my lil bro), becauase I would read instead of study. So even now,  my first instict when I am pleasure reading is allways to stash a book somewhere and pretend to pick up notes.

Disturbing, I agree.

I read all sorts of fiction in my language and romance novels in english. I rarely read in german lately, it’s the accesability, it’s easier to get the enlish then the german books.

In romance; Don’ t like chick lit, ya are too tame, no violence between the characters, some interesting plot, no TSTL (to stupid to live) heroins.

I prefer conterporary, historicals are  lower on the list, with paranormal in between. Humor is higher ranked then mystery.

I want emotional scenes, as in, I want to cry; I want the author to write so belevable, that I get a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes.

This quote says it all; Anyone who says they will only have one life to live must not know how to read a book.


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