by Mary J. Williams
If you read romance novels, you expect love to conquer all. No matter the hurdles, the obstacles, the vast caverns in the way of the hero and heroine, they will find a way to get their happily ever after.
Yet, more often than not inside the books we romance aficionados devour, sex comes before love. Which is fine with me. Honestly. Sometimes I’m in the mood for a little heat. Or a lot of heat. Or no heat at all. If you are familiar with the author, you’ll know what to expect. Hot. Sweet. Or something in between.
However, my blog today is about love. Attraction is often mistaken for love. The instant ‘I want you‘ moment we feel the need to justify. If I desire you, I must love you. Nope. I don’t buy the concept in real life. Why would I buy the idea in the pages of a novel? Because when we read, we suspend our disbelief? Okay. I agree. Up to a point.
Let’s say sex is like dessert. A treat. Yummy fun. But for me, I need something more substantial as a lead-in, or the sticky sweet stuff just isn’t as satisfying.
Which brings me back to love—as it exists in a romance novel. If our protagonists spend the entire book in a state of perpetual hate. Arguing. Nasty. Cruel. Borderline abusive. Then on the last page, they declare their love? How do we as readers buy the ending?
No buildup. No bonding. No trust. No love.
Obviously, my opinion is only one of millions. As I’ve stated in past blogs, there are books for every taste. I read romances. All I ask? In a world filled with hate and violence and constant bickering, give me what I crave. A happily ever after honestly earned. Let me believe the hero and heroine truly like each other as well as want each other.
For a few hours, let me believe in love.