I just noticed that describing one of my novels, The Virgins of Martha's Vineyard, as a women's fiction novel results in the construction of the dreaded phrase, "fiction novel."
A few more pleonasms for your entertaining amusement: armed gunman; anonymous stranger; unexpected surprise; burning flames; polar opposites; mucilaginous-spined nitwit, Ana Steele.
In honor of the aftermath of our day of expressing gratitude we also have: the running of the rapacious--Black Friday shoppers.
A novel in the women's fiction genre it is then.
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