Heh. The first book was pretty sane and appealed to my incredibly unsophisticated inner proto-feminist when she read it for school, which is why I read the second one. Which was the very first erotica (I use the word loosely, but still I use it) slowly-blooming little thirteen-year-old-me had ever seen, which is why I read the rest of them. Sex! In detail! That had an emotional component and which the participants enjoyed! They weren't even filed in the romance section of the library, it was totally safe to check them out! Nobody knew!
Which in retrospect should probably make me embarrassed or something but mostly it just makes me really sad for my culture, that fucking Jean Auel was pretty much the full extent of what was available or offered to me at thirteen to explore or explain my sexuality beyond "sex is how disease is spread and babies are made, so don't do it." I feel kind of robbed, and profoundly thankful that I discovered fanfic soon after.