Filed under: Gender is a Construct, Reader Love, Holy Shit People Actually Want to Read My Book

Okay, so something happened that has me shook in the best possible way, and I need to process it with y'all because my cats are tired of hearing about it.

I ran my first ever Goodreads Giveaway for Abducted Love (still can't believe I'm typing those words about an actual book I wrote and not just fever dreams I had after too much Thai food). The results?

• 1,048 people entered
• 945 people added it to their "To Read" shelf
• My imposter syndrome is having a full existential crisis

But here's the thing that's really baking my noodle: I gained 7 followers, and 4 of them are MEN.

Let Me Repeat That: DUDES WANT TO READ MY GREY-ALIEN-GENE-MANIPULATION-BREEDING-PROGRAM ROMANCE

Listen, I grew up in rural Missouri where men would rather admit they moisturize than cop to reading romance. Where checking out a Nicholas Sparks book required the kind of covert ops usually reserved for buying their woman tampons. So, finding out that actual human males are not only willing to read my book but publicly FOLLOWING me?

Chef's kiss to guys who read whatever the hell they want

Here's my theory (and stay with me here): smut is smut. A compelling story about connection, desire, and finding love despite memory wipes and alien manipulation? That's not gendered, that's just human. Even when the humans in question are being shuttled back and forth to a moon base for breeding purposes.

Men have been reading erotica forever - they just called it "letters to Penthouse" or "that scene in literally every Ian Fleming novel where Bond inexplicably seduces a woman named Pussy Galore with zero HR consequences." The only difference is now they're brave enough to admit they want actual character development with their steamy scenes.

A Special Shout-Out to Brian

Brian, my dude, you're my HERO. Not only were you my first Goodreads follower, but you found my website AND signed up for my newsletter that I absolutely have not figured out how to use yet.

(Seriously, Mailchimp looks like it was designed by aliens. The non-sexy kind. The Greys who are too busy manipulating human genetics to explain email marketing. If anyone knows how to make it work, please DM me before I accidentally send everyone my grocery list instead of book updates.)

The Universal Appeal of Star-Crossed Moon Base Lovers

Look, I write what I write: romance between humans who keep getting their memories wiped by aliens who think they're playing The Sims: Eugenics Edition. Jessie and Eric's story is about finding each other over and over, falling in love despite (or because of?) the cosmic manipulation. It's about that impossible choice: the family you know on Earth, or the family you forgot you made among the stars.

But I never wanted it to be JUST for one demographic.

Good storytelling is good storytelling. The need for connection transcends gender. We all want to believe that love is strong enough to survive memory wipes, alien interference, and the kind of long-distance relationship that requires spacecraft.

Plus, let's be honest: sci-fi has ALWAYS been horny. Have you SEEN the original Star Trek? Kirk was basically running an intergalactic Tinder profile. I'm just carrying on a proud tradition, but with more explicit consent and better attention to the emotional trauma of repeatedly forgetting your soulmate.

The Waiting Game

Now comes the terrifying part: 100 people won the giveaway and are presumably reading my book RIGHT NOW. As I type this, someone is discovering my attempts at describing how it feels to have your memories return in waves. Someone else is judging my creative interpretation of Grey alien motivations.

And worst of all: this isn't realistic, that would never happen! And DNF'ing the book before I explain why Jessie going from angry and scared to on her back in 3...2...1... (I swear it makes sense, I'm trying to build mystery here folks!)

This is my earliest attempt at the genre, back when I thought "world-building" meant deciding what the moon base cafeteria served (spoiler: it's still mysteriously terrible).

Will I crash and burn? Will people realize I have no idea how memory suppression technology works and just hand-waved it with "alien brain stuff"? Will they notice I changed Eric's eye color twice?

nervous laugh while checking Goodreads reviews every 30 seconds

The Real Point

To my four male followers (and any other dudes reading this): WELCOME. Thank you for not letting societal BS keep you from enjoying a good forced-proximity-by-aliens romance. Thank you for being secure enough to publicly follow an author whose bio includes "too much curiosity about the universe" and whose books contain detailed descriptions of humans trying to maintain relationships despite cosmic mindblocking.

To everyone else: Keep recommending romance to the men in your life. They might roll their eyes, but I bet they'll read it when no one's looking. And maybe, just maybe, they'll learn that emotional vulnerability is actually sexy as hell and even (especially?) when it involves getting repeatedly abducted and falling in love with the same person over and over.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go figure out Mailchimp before Brian thinks I ghosted him.

-Tiffany, who is definitely not refreshing her Goodreads page right now

P.S. - If any of you 100 winners are reading this, please be gentle. Or don't. I can take it. (That's what Jessie said to Eric on the moon base HEYOOO I'll see myself out.)