Technically, Her Twisted Pleasures isn’t a romance novel. My publisher put it in their romance category because I am a romance author. It’s not even an erotic romance. It’s pure erotica.
What’s the difference? According to one set of guidelines I read (I can’t find the source, sorry) a romance novel requires a happily-ever-after ending. Erotica may or may not end happily. I know there are romantic books and movies that don’t always end happily. I believe they’re called women’s fiction. I could put Twisted in that category, but it isn’t a novel. It’s a collection of related short stories that read like a novel. And I don’t know of any women’s fiction novels with that much sex in them. (You have been warned.)
The only category Twisted truly fits in is erotica. That doesn’t bother me. What worries me is how different Twisted is from anything else I’ve written. My erotic short story, Consuming Him, comes close, but I still wonder if I’m risking my current readers, the ones who know and love my romance writing.
So I will never call Her Twisted Pleasures a romance. It’s an erotic tale of three people and their dirty secrets, their twisted pleasures, and their unraveling relationships. And a lot of melt-your-face sex (thank you, LiMcFer). I started writing these stories one dull day at my former day job when my mind wandered, and I played ‘what if’ with a forbidden fantasy. (That’s how a lot of my writing starts. ) The stories in Twisted are not an ending. They’re the beginning of a journey (or three) that will ultimately lead Talia, Will, and Alex to their happily-ever-after. But they gotta earn it first.
I’ll call it another trashy book by Amelia James. That category fits everything I write.