I read romance to appease the growling inner masochist that tends to rear her ugly head with every derisive comment that spews from my husbandโs mouth. Letโs face it, women read romance because we are missing that element of magnetism, desirability and excitement in our own lives. Our masochist gets her thrills from feeling an attraction to the men in these books. And we encourage her. We fatten her up with the sweet indulgences of hot images like rich chocolate when weโre on a diet. We feed her dreams with this brain candy. We live vicariously through her because after all...she gets to fall in love with the hero and never suffer any consequences. Sheโs not cheating (itโs a book), sheโs not going to end up pregnant (frustrated maybe, but not pregnant), and she isnโt going to get her heart broken (unless of course it breaks her heart to know that no man will ever live up to such breathtaking standards). Itโs a win/win. All the seduction she can imagine, none of the cost. The best part is...she can live it over and over and over again. What woman can resist having her cake and eating it too?