I love to read romance novels, not so much those that pass the old highly erotic writing (Little Birds by Anais Nin?) and reaches into what I consider new no-holds-barred, nothing-is-off-limits erotica (but that's just my personal opinion) but the honest-to-goodness romance novels of old. They are like those old classic films that I love so much, you know the kind I mean, waves crashing against the shore in the evening--sun rise in the morning. Oh, we know what took place don't we? Especially if the couple is smiling and cooing at one another.  Now that's what makes me deep sigh, not explicit language.

There are some that fight to stay out of the romance genre but still are. Debbie Macomber is one author that I love, I especially enjoy the titles that are street addresses, even though it took me forever to understand the sequence of the Cedar Grove series. I like these books as much as I like her Blossom Street series, I must confess, it was the book covers that got me hooked at the start. These covers are so pretty the look like they are done in water colors. The list is long, but all I have to see is "a part of the Cedar Grove/Blossom Street series and the book goes into my 'to buy' basket. Read more ...