I finally succumb to the smuttiest of smut. I read a Harlequin novel on the recommendation of a friend. Waiting for Nick by Nora Roberts, to be specific.

It was a horrible story line that was poorly written with a rushed ending, and I couldn’t put it down. Something about two distant cousins, who are also Broadway lyricists, falling in love in New York City spoke to me, what can I say.

It’s really a natural progession from my love of VC Andrews novels, but I’m surprised it took me this long to take that next step.