Today, I’m going to take the opportunity to spout off pontificate preach delight whatever communicate to readers of romance. I love to talk, but since I’m a writer, I’ll write you all a letter. Of advice. With my sincerest
crazy expert opinion about reading romance novels. (My ridiculous chauffeur Myren had no input whatsoever in the writing of this letter. In case you were wondering.)
First about me my credentials: I’ve been reading romance novels since I got out of college and discovered sexy popular novels after years of being so tremendously bored with tomes about internal rates of return that I considered becoming an agriculture major because they at least participated in calf-birthing and such intellectual stimulation. I had to rest my fried enormous brain over-worked mind. I became hopelessly addicted to the point of spending the laundry money on books instantly enthralled by romance novels. Now,
seemingly a century several years later, I feel tired impatient confident that I can trick you into thinking I have valuable input for you. So here’s a few pointers on how to maximize your enjoyment of reading romance novels from a long time old writer reader and reader writer:
- Pointer #1: Never skip to the end because you know what’s going to happen anyway—of course they live happily ever after because it’s the tense moments of the journey that count the most. You must give the story and characters at least 5 pages a chance to simmer for that slow build to the climax. (I’m talking about READING here).
- Pointer #2: Never Always Judge a book by it’s cover. Clearly I’m conflicted certain full of baloney an expert about this. The cover can tell you a lot nothing at all the basics about what’s inside. But beware of the surprise
especially themisleading annoying surprise.
- Pointer #3: Always find a closet where the kids can’t find you place to read where you can relax and have five stinking minutes some uninterrupted time to read the juicy parts entire novel in one sitting if possible.
- Pointer #4: Always write a fan letter to the author!
Stephanie Queen’s latest novel, Beachcomber Trouble, is Book 5 of Beachcomber Investigations, a romantic detective series about a soul-weary special ops legend, Dane Blaise and his reluctant partner, the ambitious and stunning Shana George. Dane has no idea why he talked Shana into quitting Scotland Yard to join him—and no idea why she agreed to do it.
Here’s an excerpt from Beachcomber Trouble:
Dane punched in the fail-safe number only Oscar knew—or only Oscar should know. The flick of concern screeched along his back between his shoulder blades. After a beat, the trill of the line ringing on the other end shrilled through him in a pulse, one ring after another. Six times. He hung up.
It was the way they’d planned it. Oscar would call him back. Or not. The sharp slicing between his shoulder blades throbbed in time with the seconds. Shana watched him. Silent. She knew him well enough to remain blessedly mute and not ask questions. He ought to appreciate that more. A tic in his left jaw now accompanied the pain in his back to track the seconds until nearly a minute went by. A long slow excruciating minute during which he met Shana’s stare.
She scowled back with a mere hint of concern—and maybe a little guilt—shadowing the familiar look. None of it marred her goddamn gorgeousness. She must have sensed his snapping point because just as he was about to reach out and touch her hair, she spun around.
“How about a drink.” She went into the kitchen, reached into the cabinet, pulled two glasses out, and slammed them on the counter. He followed her.
The jaw tic intensified into a clench as he opened the freezer and yanked the bottle of tequila from the crusty ice tomb. The only tension he showed—aside from the almost invisible muscle tic—was the slamming shut of the freezer door.
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