Don't. Step. On. My. Grass

Hey. My name is Joyce. I am taking this moment to say FU$K you to anyone trying to make people feel bad for writing or reading romance.

I hold a masters degree in social work. A licensed master social worker. And as other social workers would agree, we spend A LOT of time psychoanalyzing and fixing other people’s shit. As a result, we are constantly psychoanalyzing our damn selves. So when I’m seeking down time, an escape, a self help book is NOT what I’m reaching for. I want ROMANCE. Slutty, dramatic, kinky, light-hearted, IR, affairs, tri, bi, funny, ROMANCE.

There are a bunch of people lining up to get mind bended and find deeper meaning for their lives. Tons of others are making peace with childhood, relationships, coming out of abusive relationships, or being an abuser, letting go of hurt and trauma, figuring out finances, dealing with sick partners, parents and the list goes on. I applaud the effort toward healing. I don’t for one second minimize anyone’s pain. I wish you well. There are a SLEW of well written books that can help. There are even workshops on YOUTUBE for FREE. Everyone should commit to being a better person each year. It’s the right thing.

BUT. DO. NOT. STEP. ON. MY. GRASS.

I read trashy novels. I read hood loving novels. I read biography’s and memoirs. I read clean novels. I read christian novels. I write ROMANCE. I read ROMANCE and I feel good about myself afterwards.

So if you want me to continue being an adjusted, positive, contributing member of society, please do us all a solid, and leave me and my FU$KING ROMANCE books in peace.

NAMASTE,

Joyce