It hasn’t been long since I’ve crossed the bridge from YA to NA. I remember the day clearly, I was deeply engrossed in a charming YA book, eyes fluttering at the innocent love weaved within its pages. And as I neared the end, the feeling of wonder turned into hunger for more. I wanted more than declarations of love, sneaky little kisses, and the blacked out scenes. I wanted to see into those blacked out moment and relate more to the characters I was reading. I wasn’t 15 anymore. I was a young woman who had already, in some capacity, experienced those secret kisses and shy moments. My first real…