In 2025, Sweet Nothings Book Co. opened as Baltimore’s first romance-only bookstore. It’s truly a romance book lover’s dream — it’s cozy and welcoming, clearly created with readers in mind. The shelves are filled with many popular indie and small press romance books, including a small section of signed copies for customers to purchase.
Sweet Nothings is part of a larger wave of brick-and-mortar stores that have popped up across the country in recent years, specifically to serve the genre’s voracious readers.
It’s surprising that it took so long because romance, a billion-dollar business, has been a dominant force in publishing for years now, and even as overall book sales are declining, print sales for the genre were up 24% last year.
And while Sweet Nothings does have a few Black indie romance authors books, there is no urban romance. This isn’t unique to this store — other indie bookstores in the city that carry Black romance often exclude urban romance as well. (Sweet Nothings did not respond to request for comment.)
People say they want Black love stories celebrated, but that often only means certain kinds — the palatable kinds. And for many white readers, “relatability” is just a lazy shield for their discomfort — discomfort with Black characters and vernacular, which includes seeing the N-word used colloquially on the page.
But particularly among Black readers, there’s always been a demand for urban fiction and romance. A lot of millennial Black women can recall their introduction to the genre in middle school with books like “The Coldest Winter Ever” by Sister Souljah. I remember my own local library having a little cart of urban fiction and romance where I read books like “True to the Game” by Teri Woods and “Riding Dirty Down I-95” by Nikki Turner.
Jahquel J., a popular urban fiction and romance writer, has amassed a devoted following in recent years. Her Facebook group has over 30,000 members, and her books regularly hit the top of Amazon’s overall book rankings.
“Bookstores that don’t take a chance on urban authors or urban books are literally shooting themselves in the foot,” says Tanvier Peart, author of “One Knight’s Stand,” and “Ella Gets the D.” “We can look at Jahquel … [and] so many other authors who are bestsellers and blow traditionally published authors, hybrid authors, like everybody, out of the water.”
“With an audience that’s largely Black, it’s hard not to view it as intentional exclusion,” adds Sallie Stacker, a content creator who reviews and discusses Black romance books on TikTok and Instagram.
Stacker says she would love to see urban romance in stores and be given the same visibility as other popular subgenres.
“The root of the cause is heartbreaking,” says Dana, another book content creator. “Because this is part of the broader culture as well. This is how some people find and experience love.”
Bishop says that Black bookstores like Mahogany Books in Washington D.C. were also a game changer for her in terms of getting her books in front of more Black readers. Once looked down upon, technology and social media have made self-publishing a viable career path for authors — specifically in romance. Amazon, the world’s biggest book retailer, has its publishing imprint Kindle Direct Publishing, which allows writers to get in front of readers without the many barriers imposed by traditional publishing. Its print-on-demand infrastructure gets books to readers within days. And through the Kindle Unlimited subscription service, ebooks can be borrowed (up to 20 at time), with authors paid based on page reads.
This is a godsend for many writers: no querying agents for months — sometimes years — just to get a rejection, or worse, be ghosted. But there are downsides. KU reads are paid a fraction of a penny — as of January 2026, the current KDP per page pay out was $0.004202 — so to make any kind of return, an author would need hundreds of thousands of page reads a month.
Sure, going viral on BookTok (TikTok’s community of readers and writers) can quite literally change an author’s life, and there are writers who make a sustainable living through KU and KDP, but not everyone’s book takes off immediately. Much of an indie author’s success banks on two things: the book has to be good, but it also has to be visible. And all of this falls on the author who is the marketer, editor, and sometimes graphic designer, handling all of the tasks that would normally come with a traditional publishing deal. To even get into a retailer, books have to be listed on IngramSpark, another online self-publishing and print-on-demand platform that has access to over 40,000 online retailers and libraries.
As a newly self-published author, the entire process is daunting and overwhelming. So, I played it safe for my debut, only listing it on Amazon and printing copies to sell on my site. I’ve toyed with the idea of my books eventually making it to bookstores, but after talking to other Black indie romance authors, I know the likelihood of my Black urban romance getting into local bookstores is slim to none.
Despite these hurdles, the expansion of self-publishing has also become a workaround for Black romance authors in particular as traditional publishing continues to drag its feet when it comes to acquiring, investing, and taking Black romance seriously. Since 2016, The Ripped Bodice, a romance-only bookstore with locations in Los Angeles and Brooklyn, NY, has generated the “State of Racial Diversity in Romance Report.” According to their 2024 report, BIPOC authors accounted for 11% of traditionally published romance authors in 2024, which is only about a 5% increase since 2016.
And since that number isn’t specific to Black authors, the share for Black romance writers alone is probably even smaller.
Natasha Bishop, a Baltimore Black contemporary romance author whose bestseller “Only for the Week” began as an indie release, described how difficult it was to get her books into local stores early on. “It was really challenging,” Bishop says. “Like I wouldn’t get responses, or there was this long process that was involved … So it was a really hard entry point to get in.”
Figuring out how to get your books on shelves can be a daunting task. Peart explained that in her first year of publishing, she contacted nearly every indie bookstore listed on bookshop.org, pitching her book complete with a media kit. That takes a lot of time and dedication, and many authors, Peart included, have regular full-time jobs and family obligations that make that kind of outreach difficult to sustain.
Peart’s books are available on Amazon, her website, and select indie stores because, as she puts it, “I’m a person who does not want to put all my eggs into one basket.”
And since her traditional publishing deal with Zando, Bishop’s “Only for the Week” can now be found in most major book retailers.
As a community, Black people have long understood that we’re expected to work twice as hard for half the opportunities as our white counterparts in nearly every field. While we continue to fight to open doors that are closed to us, especially as we live under an administration that is actively stripping marginalized communities of their civil rights, we continue to build ecosystems for our work to flourish, just as we always have. Black indie authors don’t necessarily need to cross over into the mainstream to be successful; many have been able to make this a full-time career being sustained by the Black indie market, which functions as its own robust literary world.
Representation matters, but it raises a fair question: do Black romance authors need to continue to fight this hard for legitimacy when their readers continue to show up and show out? Romance books conventions specifically geared to Black romance have popped up in recent years. In 2025, the inaugural Black Romance Book Festival in Atlanta drew over a thousand readers eager to meet some of their favorite authors. Over a hundred authors attended and tickets to this year’s event sold out within minutes. Other Black romance events, such as the Chocolate City Literature Book Festival in Washington D.C. and Empire State of Stories: Lit in the City in New York, also are carving out spaces for Black romance readers and writers.
Representation matters, but it raises a fair question: do Black romance authors need to continue to fight this hard for legitimacy when their readers continue to show up and show out?
Still, plenty of Black romance authors still want their books in stores. And not just for the obvious visibility, but because for any author there’s a certain validation that comes with seeing your books on a shelf. I remember how cool it felt spotting books I’d read in their self-published versions sitting in Barnes & Noble and thinking, “Wow, they really made it.”
Jaleesa of JaleesaReads, an Atlanta-based book content creator puts it plainly: “The presence of Black and Urban romance in retail bookstores goes far beyond genre expansion. It’s about visibility, equity, and inclusion of a readership that has always existed but has always been underserved.”
And she’s right — because even when indie stores, especially Black-owned ones, do show up for us, they aren’t always accessible options for every reader. A lot of readers don’t live near them, and not everyone has the time or flexibility to travel to another city just to shop in person.
Urban romance author Queen T recognizes that placement in major retailers isn’t always realistic, and might not even be a goal. Instead she’s focused on getting her books in independently-owned Black bookstores. “These spaces allow for strong community connections, better visibility, and a more authentic partnership,” she says.
At this point, the question isn’t whether Black urban readership has an audience. The real question is whether the industry is willing to stop treating Black love like it’s only worthy when it’s conveniently packaged for white comfort.
My debut, “Cash Rules Everything,” has been out for a little over a month. Even without a massive social media following, it hit No. 1 on bestseller charts in its subgenre and has already surpassed one million Kindle Unlimited page reads. That isn’t typical for a debut, but I think it speaks to the strength — and loyalty — of Black readership.
And while it would be amazing to see my book in stores, trying to make that so early in my author journey feels overwhelming. Eventually, I do want to get into Black indie bookstores. But honestly, until I branch into contemporary romance, pushing for wider retail placement seems like a fruitless endeavor.
So for now, I’m focusing on consistency and growing my reader base.
If bookstores, especially indie ones, are serious about diversity and inclusion, they can’t keep centering the version of that inclusion that feels safest. That means carrying the full range of Black romance, including urban romance. Because that’s how you showcase Black love in all its forms and treat it as a permanent part of the romance canon.
“I believe in casting our net wide, because Black romance deserves to be the thesis and not the footnote, and we deserve to be in all spaces,” Peart added. “Free, loud, and without apology.”
And while it may take time for the industry as a whole to catch up to what Black readers already know, there’s solace in this: urban romance will continue to flourish regardless. As Peart says, “At the end of the day, we got us, and the Black community will always have each other.”