toeing the lesfic line." Many of the heavy hitters in the world of lesbian romance have ventured into the murky waters of unconventional plots, and quite a few of them have been successful at it. But let's face it, we weren't heavy hitters. We were guppies. No, we were tadpoles praying that we didn't get sucked into the pool filter (a little Florida humor). And this book was our very first conversation with readers.
Can you remember the first time you were granted the privilege of sitting at the adult table on Thanksgiving? Like me, you were probably told to "be quiet and polite and pick your silverware--salad fork, dessert fork, etc.-- by watching what everyone else does." Well, D and I didn't do that. We just wrote a story that we think we'd enjoy and fervently prayed that we're not the only ones.
Sculpting is out there now on people's nightstands--the place their owner's eyes closed marked with a napkin, a torn magazine page, or, if they're like me, some random receipt they found in the pocket of their jeans while separating the laundry. And we're anxiously waiting to hear what those readers think and whether they'll invite us back to the adult table next year, even if we might use the wrong spoon for the soup, laugh a little too loudly, and drop some gravy on our blouse or mashed potato on the floor. I mean, the dog will get it, right?