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One thing I've always found curious is the reaction of other writers to age differences between lovers.   Most of them accept an age span as perfectly acceptable in historical romances.  If it's in jolly old England during the Regency era, then of course it's okay for a 17 year old female to find love with a decades older man.  However, move the characters forward to 2009 and suddenly it's wrong and makes them out and out uncomfortable. 

There is distance and time enough to justify the Regency. But put the same couple in today's world, and fears over what is and isn't socially acceptable change the dynamic.  I dislike and generally refuse to acknowledge most lines and labels.  Even if I didn't, books are the best place to explore, to push the boundaries.  If you're perfectly content to follow the herd, then why would you need fiction? 

In my novel, E-mail Enticement,  a 17 year old and a thirty something fall madly in love in a hot and steamy, read it with your favorite partner nearby kind of way.  He teaches her about hypocrisy and she teaches him that you're never too old to hurt.  They battle community opinion and the law and learn that redeeming some things means losing others.  In the story, age provides the barrier that love must overcome.

In Email,  Alix realizes that the calendar is only a function of how men count time.  Mother Nature gives maturity at her own pace.  That's one of the reasons I wrote the story.  Whether it's Regency England or modern day Myrtle Beach, one size doesn't fit all. 

Love doesn't have a watch or a calendar.

I grew up in a little town in South Carolina that had a drive-in theater.  But, mind you, not a regular drive-in.  This one was special.  When my mother and my aunt drove in, my cousin and I were hidden under blankets in the back seat.  Why?  Because it showed those movies.  You know, the ones where someone moves into a new neighborhood and is greeted by the Welcome Wagon.  Before you could get back to the car with popcorn, the now naked new neighbor, the Welcome Wagon, the Postman, and the movers were grinding and grubbing all over the screen. 

(Try telling 2 pre-teen girls to sleep through that.  Also, try to explain why the forbidden children who were told to sleep were sent for the popcorn and returned with it without anyone calling the cops or Social Services.)    

The grubbing and grinding follies, if on a page instead of a movie screen, would be in the category "adults only."  I get that.  What I don't get is where the boundary begins.  When exactly does romance enter the "adults only" category?  Brotherly Love  and E-mail Enticement  both venture beyond the bedroom door.  In fact, both describe the physical encounters in graphic and - I hope - arousing, enticing and alluring detail.  Brotherly  contains a scene in a bordello with one man and several "ladies of the evening."   Neither book contains sharing of their coupling by the focal pair nor (darn it) bondage, sex toys, or overly unusual forms or foibles.  Does the writer's intent make the difference or does it take something more?  Help me out - what makes a book fit the adult only category?

By the way, I've categorized both Brotherly and E-mail  as adult only.  Does anyone have an idea whether that helps or hurts sales?  When I check out my books in the e-tailers, some (most) of the others in the same section make my stuff look and sound pretty tame.  So I got to wondering -- am I in the wrong neighborhood?

I'd appreciate someone getting out the clue gun and pointing it in my direction.