I like chick lit and I’m not afraid to say so. My all time favorite chick lit author is the original one — Jane Austen. My daughter’s middle name is Elizabeth (as in Elizabeth Bennet), though I do have to add it is also my husband’s grandmother’s name which made it a win-win name for me. I still read Pride and Prejudice once every couple of years. The story for me never gets old (I know, I know, I’m such a chick). I’ll admit to owning both the BBC mini-series as well as the more recent Hollywood film version on DVD.

One of my other all-time favorite authors is Madeleine L’Engle. My second daughter’s first name is Madeleine. The name was a top runner for both my husband and I. I didn’t tell him that it was the name of one of my favorite authors, not that it would have mattered. He really liked the nickname Maddie. I read somewhere that it’s starting to become a trendy name, especially spelled “Madeleine” instead of “Madeline.” They called these American parents “Francophiles.” While my husband I loved, loved, loved Paris we are not Francophiles per se, I’m just guilty of being a big-fat Wrinkle in Time fan.

While I like to think of myself as an educated fairly well-read woman, there is something about a romance, well written or not. I’m guilty of reading even the cheesier novels, you know Nikki, the PR account executive who has the strong-willed, strong-jawed, wildly successful technology client whom she hates and then eventually falls in love with romance novel.

I still cry every time I see the movie Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I know the movie does not necessarily faithfully follow Williams original play which is much, much grittier, but I still love it.

My husband is a pragmatic scientist, he always says he doesn’t “get” romance. I’ll be watching a romance film, and he’ll make fun of me especially if it’s a light romantic comedy. He’ll gasp sarcastically and exclaim, “Oh no! Do you think they’ll end up together – I don’t know?! I’m biting my nails!”

I just ignore him.