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We’re heading into Valentine’s Day this week, so it seems like a perfect week to talk about romance, in our books and in real life. I regularly see posts on social media asking about the book that hooked someone on romance novels, and I always feel a little guilty because I don’t remember the first romance I ever read. Other people can name their first, so why can’t I? Probably because I was such a voracious reader when I was in school.
When I was much younger, it just about killed me to only be allowed to borrow two books at a time from the public library. I would wind up reading them over and over during the week. When I got to the high school (ours included grades seven through twelve), one of my favorite things was joining the library club and working in the library each week during one of my study halls for six years. Not only did I get to play in the books, but eventually, I got first dibs on anything new coming in, before it went out for anyone else to borrow. I would go home on Friday afternoons with as many books as I could carry, and have read through most of them by the time I went back to school on Monday (at least until I was old enough for a job). I remember the first time I read Gone With the Wind–that was one of those Friday books I borrowed, and by the time I went back to school Monday morning, I had read it twice, though I wasn’t happy with the ending. I worked my way through most of the school library by the time I graduated, non-fiction and fiction, and every kind of fiction…classics, mysteries, romances, science fiction. You name it, I read it. I didn’t discriminate.
But we were talking about romances. I have no idea what the first one was that I read. My mom read them, along with lots of other books–that’s where I got my reading bug, from her and her parents–and I read a lot of her books that I wasn’t supposed to be reading at age thirteen. Lots of steamy stories, romance and otherwise, but the romances were my favorite. I was always hooked on a happy ending. If it didn’t end well, I wasn’t satisfied. We had an assignment in English class around eighth or ninth grade to rewrite the ending of a classic story–mine was to rework the end of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow so Ichabod and Katrina lived happily ever after.
Did I read Kathleen Woodiwiss? Of course. But was she first? I have no idea. Judith McNaught? Maybe. Johanna Lindsey? Who knows? And you know what? I’m okay with that. I’ve read a lot of great romances in my life, and I know I couldn’t list them all. There are simply too many, and I enjoyed them all, no matter which one came first.
I was trying to decide if I’ve read any Valentine’s Day romances lately and having a hard time thinking of one I read recently. Which led me to wonder if I have written any yet. The answer to that is definitely not, though I do have some stories that take place over the winter. And you know what? For today, that’s close enough for me, so I have a steamy little snippet from Medusa #2 for you.
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The heavy weight of Ryder’s arm settled on her shoulder. “They’ll be fine for tonight,” he murmured near her ear.
Philomena nodded, biting her lower lip. They had to be. If anything happened to them, it was on her head.
“And I have to go.” He stepped away and picked up his own coat from the hook behind the door.
She grabbed the nearest jacket, which was too light for the brisk winter night, but she pulled it on anyway, then walked outside with him. “You’re going to be careful, aren’t you?”
“I’m always careful.” He shot her a bad boy grin that had her heart racing as they made their way along the sidewalk to the front of the house, where she saw his pick-up truck parked out front beside the mailbox now.
“Nothing can happen to you, Ryder. You have Jason to worry about.”
He kept walking.
“Are you listening to me?” She glared up at him when he came to a stop beside the truck.
He put his arm around her shoulders again. “Are you more worried about Jason? Or me?”
She blinked. “I’m worried about what will happen to Jason if something happens to you.” He smelled really good. Her pounding heart sped up even more. He was too close. She needed to distract herself again. “You know Desi is a lousy parent. Might as well not even be a parent.”
“What if something did happen to me? Would you miss me?” He bent nearer, his mouth almost grazing her temple.
She tried to concentrate on his words, but the awareness rushing through her made that difficult. And dammit, she couldn’t even blame it on pre-PMS hormones.
“Would you be upset if I were hurt?” His open mouth slid down her cheek, hot, damp. Tempting.
Desire raced along her veins. Under her sweater, her nipples tightened in anticipation.
“Mena?” He licked the corner of her mouth.
She gasped, and he swooped in, covering her open mouth with his, pressing her back against the side of the truck, his warmth more than making up for the cold metal at her back.
He was aroused again. Or still. When his hips rocked into hers, the heavy erection against her belly made her panties even wetter.
Shocked by her reaction, she still couldn’t resist, lifting into his kiss.
“Wrap your legs around me, Mena,” he whispered against her lips.
She forced her eyes open, trying hard to distract herself from the temptation of Ryder.
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Now I am going back to work. I have rewrites waiting for me.
At the risk of making someone else crazy, do you remember the first romance novel you ever read?
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