My Most Romantic Character by Sarah Raplee

Hi, I'm Sarah Raplee, author of Paranormal and Steampunk Romance.

I’ve written two romance novels (one published) and a number of romantic short stories. Our suggested theme for Februaruy 2017 is “My most romantic…” We get to finish the sentence.

I decided to write about my most romantic character, out of the dozens of characters I’ve written in my stories. It was a hard decision to make. But after sorting through the crowd, I have to admit that one character is a hopeless romantic.

Her name is Melisenda Sepulveda. She’s the heroine of my debut book, BLINDSIGHT (Psychic Agents Book 1), available at all major e-book stores. The print book will be available the end of March.

In case you are wondering about her looks on the cover, Meli's father was a Chilean immigrant  with a red-haired Spanish grandmother. He married a red-headed Idaho cowgirl. The result was red-haired, green-eyed Meli.

Here is the setup for this excerpt, which shows what a romantic Meli is:

Melisenda, or Meli for short, is a spirited blind wedding singer who longs for a family. All she has left is her elderly Guide Dog, Freddy. Meli has a wild psychic Talent that prevents her from being able to touch people skin-to-skin and makes every man she kisses pass out…but she doesn’t give up. And when she kisses undercover psychic FBI agent Hector, he is stunned for a bit, but he doesn’t pass out. 

Courtesy of the FBI

Suffice it to say they end up on the run from the drug lord’s minions and begin to fall in love. But when they stumble onto a Cartel concentration camp for psychics hidden in the wilderness, Meli soon learns from one of the children that a Foreseer has seen her death coming the next day. Then they discover the family Hector believes died years ago is alive inside the camp.

The prisoners’ leader, Nate, broke the news to them in a private meeting in the building where they are hiding from the guards. He brought coffee. Hector and Meli are still processing the shocking revelation. 

Excerpt

Meli’s throat ached. She hadn’t known how Hector took his coffee. Lori must have told Nate. After all, the woman had lived with Hector, had been engaged to him, had given birth to his baby. Whereas Meli had only known him for two days.

She’s Thanksgiving Dinner and I’m trail mix.

Not that it mattered. Lori and R.D. were Hector’s family. No way was Meli a home-wrecker. She couldn’t stand between a child and his father. Not after losing her own parents.

A spoon clinked on stoneware. Nate stirring her coffee? “Hand this to Meli, please,” he said.

Hector guided her fingers to the handle of a mug as if he’d done it a thousand times before. She blinked back more tears. He watched out for her, stood by her, accepted and respected her. How could she give him up?

Heat seeped through the ceramic mug into her hands. I am strong. She took a sip of the hot, creamy liquid. If I have to, I can do anything.

She loved Hector, heart and soul. But she and Freddy were doing just fine before the drug lord’s wedding. Before Hector. Well, maybe not exactly fine, but they managed. She could give Hector up, if that’s what she had to do to make him happy.

Remembering the four achingly lonely years since her uncle’s death, she discovered a lump the size of Mount Saint Helens lodged in her throat. During the last couple of days, terrible as they’d been in so many ways, Hector had filled a gaping hole in her heart. They’d become friends. Partners. Lovers.

Nate’s gravelly rumble broke the silence. Meli forced herself to drink her coffee and focus on his words.

“First, you need to understand that one of us, Zinnia Washington, is a foreseer. She gets glimpses of the most likely future. Our lives are not entirely predestined, you understand. We have free will. Think of life as a river flowing within high banks. Diverting or even blocking the flow is possible, but those things take a lot of energy and effort to accomplish. A group of people working together over months or even years might change the river’s course.”

A floorboard creaked beside her. “What does this have to do with us?” Hector said.

“When Zinnia and her father arrived a few months after me, she foresaw our most likely future. There would be no escape for us. For nearly six years we’ve worked to alter that future. We’ve accomplished a hundred little changes in preparation for an escape attempt, altered our plans over and over in hopes our efforts would add up to a big change in our future. After a couple of years, Hector showed up in one of Zinnia’s visions, but still no one escaped. Other than Hector’s appearance, only the details of our future changed. Despite all our efforts, the end result was always the same. We failed. We died. Hector died.”

Meli turned cold. She couldn’t let Hector die. Somehow, she had to protect him.

Nate continued. “The night of Mendoza’s wedding, something finally shifted. That night, Zinnia got a flash, a brief glimpse, of Lori and R.D. and Hector somewhere in the future. From Zinnia’s description of the room and the older Hispanic woman who held R.D. on her lap, Lori recognized Hector’s mother. R.D. blew out four candles on a birthday cake. He turns four in a few months. The three of them will make it out alive.”

Meli’s heart lightened. At least Hector and his son would escape—and Lori.

Hector’s warm, familiar hand enfolded hers. “What about Meli? The rest?”

“I’m sorry. We don’t know. Zinnia believes the fact that the glimpse of the future she got was so brief indicates things are still in flux. She’s seen nothing specific to indicate the rest don’t make it. If we work together, I believe all of us will escape.”

Hector was no doubt sure he could dowse a way out for them. But Meli knew the truth. Nate didn’t believe the rest of them would survive. Little Jake had told her so right after they’d arrived at the camp.

An unexpected calm settled over her like a warm, heavy blanket. She and Freddy were the key, the new elements in the equation. She had to figure out what they must do to save Hector and his family. This was her destiny. Protecting them would give her life—and her death—meaning.

Nate cleared his throat. “Will and Zinnia monitored Mendoza’s wedding and reception as part of the security detail. Will is Zinnia’s father, and a farseer. Their job was to watch for an attack from outside the camp. When Zinnia secretly told her father the probable future had shifted, he immediately scanned Mendoza’s compound and the surrounding forest. He spotted you in the gazebo, kissing Meli. He’s followed you as much as possible ever since.”

Meli’s lips curved into a small smile. Their kiss had changed the probable future.

I hope you enjoyed meeting my hopelessly romantic, heroic wedding singer. Are hopeless romantics naïve? Crazy? Or are they onto something worth dying for? ~~Sarah Raplee

Recycle Day

RECYCLE DAY

By Courtney Pierce

In the summer of 2011, my ex-husband and I committed an act of treason. We decided to deal with our stuff in the attic. Not a feat for the faint-hearted in the steamy heat of Houston.

For twenty-five years we moved around the country to grab the swinging ring of a promotion—mostly mine—but without children, uprooting was an easy decision. Always moving forward. In each case, we had only a weekend to buy a house in an unfamiliar state. The corporate movers would swoop in to pack up everything in too much paper and send us on our way: San Francisco to Portland to Minneapolis to Houston. The boxes in the attic went with us—all of them—even my vocal scores from my college days in the seventies, tangible dreams of becoming an opera singer. We moved the beta hifi machine that didn’t work, along with the six boxes of eighties music videos and recordings of Dallas and Falcon Crest. All unplayable.

But the last move, back to Portland, would whisk us away from the corporate grind. With no deadline, we took the time to sort through the aging relics of two aging relics. Our modern-style home in Portland had no basement or attic. Treasures morphed to junk when there was no place to put them.

The banter sessions during the shedding process were hilarious and priceless—and uncomfortable. Tough love was tough. These markers of time had shaped who we were as individuals, and as a couple. When I opened the boxes in the corner of the attic—the music of another life—my heart sank. The brittle pages had been chewed beyond recognition. A tiny dead mouse, full of melody, had already made this gargantuan decision for me without my permission. A portend of things to come, but I didn't know it.

I lugged the boxes outside to the curb for the scavengers. Hourly, I padded to the front window to check on their welfare. The music sat untouched, their thirsty pages drinking in the humidity that gave no life. The dead scores were alive only to me.  

On recycle day, the rumble of the truck sounded like an approaching storm. I dashed outside to witness the aspirations of a younger woman grind away in the hungry teeth of the metal cruncher. In slow motion, the recycle man launched the boxes, one after another. When the last one missed the mark and hit the rim, a cacophony of musical notes floated to the pavement in an ugly symphony—Mozart mixed with Stravinsky; Bach melted into Brahms under a final aria of Bizet. Carmen had shattered her knees as she crumpled in a heap.

Unthinkable!

I didn’t know what to grab first. I scooped up as much as I could hold in my arms. My wild eyes met the recycle man’s in search of empathy, an apology, anything to acknowledge the disrespect shown to my failed dreams. Instead, he said, “Thanks, ma’am. I shoulda aimed higher.”

As I turned back to the house, alone and dejected, I spotted one soiled page in the gutter. The truck had moved on, its whirling blades out of reach. I stared at the opening of “Laudate Dominum” from Mozart’s Solemn Vespers; my debut solo back in 1979. The penciled notations for sounding like an angel had faded but were still visible. How nervous I’d been in front of those hundreds of people. But when the downbeat had started, I'd gone to another place. That same year I had married as a twenty-year-old bride. We grew up together, grew young together, grew apart together. A wipe of the smudged mud from the paper straightened my shoulders. I took a deep breath. The melody kept time with my steps back inside the house.

A magnetic pull floated me upstairs to the special drawer in my grandfather's bureau. I tucked the page beneath my lingerie. A romantic memory was added to its significance that day; the day I almost let go of the music. It would become a small reminder that I had, indeed, aimed higher. Now, at the age of fifty-seven, a new man in my life appreciates that music, my dreams, and me. For the rest of my life. We’re getting married in June, and I can't wait for life to start anew.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her bossy cat. She writes for baby boomers. By day, Courtney is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, she is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, She Writes, and Sisters in Crime. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal. 

Check out all of Courtney's books at:

courtney-pierce.com and windtreepress.com. Both print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com

 

The Dushane Sisters are back in Indigo Lake. More laughs, more tears...and more

trouble. Protecting Mom's reputation might get the sisters killed―or give one of them the story she's been dying to live.

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

Colorful characters come alive in Courtney's trilogy about the Dushane sisters. Beginning with The Executrix, three middle-age sisters find a manuscript for a murder mystery in their mother's safe after her death. Mom’s book gives them a whole new view of their mother and their future. Is it fiction . . . or truth? 

Get out the popcorn as the Dushane Sisters Trilogy comes to a scrumptious conclusion with Indigo Legacy. Due out in early 2017.

Common and Uncommon Questions About Blindness by Varina Martindale

VARINA MARTINDALE

As a child, Varina Martindale fell in love with stories about pioneers, runaway slaves, and other people living in past times, so when she began writing romances, they were bound to have historical settings. While still seeking fiction publication, she keeps busy writing, reading, and crocheting. 

      

 I was born with sight in only my left eye--enough sight to read large print if I held the book so near my face that fully sighted children teased me for smelling it, to watch TV or movies if I sat close to the screen, and to enjoy drawing. When I was ten, my retina detached due to a genetic syndrome my family didn’t know we had. Within three months, I went from large print and magnifiers to Braille and recorded books, as well as from writing and illustrating picture books to simply writing.

            Over the following decades, people have asked some questions repeatedly.

            Do I talk to my computer?

            I type, and thanks to text-to-speech software called JAWS, my computer speaks what I’ve written, as well as the text I move the cursor over. Sometimes I scold the computer for not following commands promptly.

            How do I crochet and knit without seeing the work?

            By touch. I remember a small thrill, at sixteen, when I realized I could feel the difference between a row of knit stitches and a row of purls based on which side of the work the bumps were on.

            How long did I take to learn Braille?

            About six months. First, I learned letters and punctuation. Then I learned “contractions,” characters that stand for letter combinations or whole words. Fortunately, I began learning weeks before my retina started detaching, to have an extra reading option.

            A question only one person has asked me took me aback. Three years ago, a waiter asked how I could find my mouth when eating. Nineteenth-century, blind hymn writer FannyCrosby so tired of this question on school choral tours that she finally answered that she and her classmates tied strings between their mouths and the table. I can be snide, too, but that night, I laughed a flustered laugh and said, “I don’t know. I just do.”

            I’ve never had trouble finding my mouth. Finding the silverware or my drink or a pill or that last bite of food, yes, but never my mouth. It’s right under my nose, where it was when I could see. Presumably, my hand remembered the path from long habit.

            In Stephen White’s gripping mystery, Privileged Information, the hero’s girlfriend suffers temporary blindness, and he feeds her soup. I like that he cooks for her; food cans often feel alike. However, this scene grows from her fear of losing control of her normally controlled life, rather than directly from her blindness.

            I can recommend two books which get details about blindness right. When the Snow Flies, a historical romance by Laurie Alice Eakes, portrays a doctor still adjusting to blindness caused by a shooting. In another historical romance, Joanna Bourne’s Spymaster’s Lady, Annique’s pov in early chapters contained details that I so took for granted that I didn’t immediately register that she couldn’t see.

            Writing blind characters requires research, like writing characters who are artists or math teachers. Blindness is one facet of multi-faceted human beings, who vary as widely as sighted people do. I may laugh my flustered laugh, if questions deal with things I do automatically, but don’t be afraid to ask. ~Varina Marindale

You can reach Varina at varinam@cox.net

Loony in Love

By Linda Lovely

The internet is a wonderful tool for authors who want to do research and get it “right” when it’s impossible for them to view in-person the scene or activity they want to describe in a book. That’s the reason I spent maybe an hour the other morning watching YouTube videos of billy goats in rut. Quite the morning wake up.

The research is for the second book in my new Brie Hooker Mystery series, which is set on a fictional goat cheese farm, Udderly Kidding Dairy, located near Clemson, South Carolina. I must say the antics of billy goats trying to impress the ladies are funny. Probably a lot funnier since YouTube allows me to watch without smelling the hairy dudes! According to everything I’ve read, billy goats only smell—okay stink—when they’re in rut. 

Since February is the month for Romance, I thought I’d share one of the billy goat videos I watched: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRPKgBo0vqo  Whatever made the first billy goat think that wagging his long tongue in the air and blubbering like a fool would prove irresistible to a doe?

Watching the billy goats’ behavior in the videos made me wonder how many other animal courtship/ mating rituals are as bizarre. Again, thanks to minimal internet research, I found some animal mating activities that make the billy goat’s behavior seem tame. Exploding testicles, oh my!  Here’s another link if you want to see 30 of the strangest animal mating habits:  http://www.neatorama.com/2007/04/30/30-strangest-animal-mating-habits/

How did these behaviors ever start/evolve? Perhaps because we’re human, we don’t think our courtship behaviors are strange at all. Nonetheless, here are a few of the unusual ways humans try to communicate their interest in the opposite sex. http://mentalfloss.com/article/28950/9-strange-courtship-rituals-around-world   

Fortunately, my husband only needed a wicked smile and a good sense of humor to attract my attention. Okay, the fact that he had thick black hair, an athlete’s build, and drove a 240Z didn’t hurt. Hey, I was young. He still has the wicked smile, good sense of humor, and athlete’s build, and his Ford truck has air conditioning. We won't mention the hair.

Silencing Your Inner Editor

I often struggle with silencing my internal editor. The little voice that provides a running commentary on everything I’m doing wrong with my writing. Of course, that little voice can be helpful in small, controlled doses when I’ve transferred my ideas to the page and am ready to refine them. But during the creative process, all it does is feed my doubts and block creativity until my characters stop talking to me.

Ever stared at a blank screen, the cursor taunting you with its incessant blinking, and felt paralyzed? What is so scary about that blank page? Often we have more ideas than time to work on them, so why can it be so difficult to get them from head to paper (or computer)? For me, it’s the fear of failure. The ideas seem so perfect in my head, and I want to do them justice, so I put a lot of pressure of myself. Now, when this happens I simply remind myself of the following advice that many writers would have heard time and again.

‘You can fix a bad page, but you can’t fix a blank one’

We waste a lot of energy talking ourselves out of writing because it might not be perfect. Why not refocus that energy into putting words to paper as they come. We can go back and ‘fix’ anything we’re not happy with later.

These fears can often continue throughout the writing process. Rather than taking off with an idea and letting the words flow onto the page, I find myself critiquing each paragraph, sentence or word, as I go along. I’ve even been known to stop mid-sentence searching for the ‘perfect’ word to describe something as inane as the color of the dirt on a character’s shoe.  Thankfully, I’ve been able to work on that bad habit, and rather than dwelling on something so small, I will move on, or alternatively, place a small note to come back to during the editing stage.

It’s important to remember that a first draft isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s a way to let your creativity flow; to find your voice and let your ideas run wild. Once you’ve let all of that creativity out and have something to build on, you can go back and edit.

The next trick is being kind to yourself. Your inner critic will judge you and tear you apart... but if you find something you’ve written is just ‘rubbish’, have a laugh and try again. I’m sure even the most successful writers out there have cringe-worthy moments when reading over their initial drafts. It’s all part of the process.

Here are some tips to help you turn off that internal editor:

No editing: Put a ban on editing of any kind. This can be as simple as not being allowed to read over what you’ve written, or to be even more extreme, stop yourself from using the ‘backspace’ button at all. If you’ve made a typo it can be fixed later.

Set goals: Even if you have limited writing time, aim high. This is the idea behind the popular NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Participants need to complete 50,000 words in one month. It’s a big ask, and meeting that goal requires non-stop writing during precious writing time. For most people there’s no time to edit, therefore the words, and creativity, flows. 

Use a productivity app: Programs such as ‘Write or Die’ where you can set goals around word counts or time limits are extremely helpful. 

If you couldn’t possibly fathom writing an entire story without editing, then restrict it to one chapter at a time, or if that still causes heart palpitations, cut that back to one scene. C’mon, I know you can get through one scene without editing!

Many of these apps will also stop you from accessing the internet for a set amount of time - no more being distracted by social media.

Plan: This will be hard for my fellow ‘pantsers’, but it’s worth trying. Have a rough plan for your story. Sometimes, the more detailed, the better. I find if I have scenes planned out at certain points of the story, even if it’s just the overall objective of a scene (e.g. Show the development of trust between hero and heroine), it helps keep momentum. Stalling, or becoming ‘blocked’, is like holding up a ‘welcome’ sign to my internal editor. I must keep moving.

Note: Pantser = A novelist who writes by the Seat of their Pants, not taking time to plot the novel before beginning to write.

Try something different: If your self-control has disappeared and you absolutely cannot stop yourself from editing, it’s time to turn off the computer and try something else. Why not grab a pen and paper? Rewriting and amending the same sentence ten times suddenly becomes more difficult. Another alternative is to dictate your story. You don’t even need a Dictaphone. Most smart phones have a voice record/memo facility. Just hit record and start talking. No editing here. That can wait for when you transcribe it all later.

Hopefully some of these tips will help you let go of the fear and set your creativity free.

Lauren James is a country girl at heart. Raised on a small property surrounded by animals, it's no surprise she writes small town romance with lots of love for creatures great and small.

Having failed fabulously at painting, sewing and playing guitar, she finally found her creative outlet in writing strong, quirky heroines, and tough, handsome heroes with gooey animal-loving centers.

Lauren lives on the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia, with her beloved rescue greyhound, Daisy.

You can contact Lauren via her website, Facebook or Twitter.

Moving Furniture

by M. L. Buchman

Sometimes themes gather in one place in my life. When they do, when they clump together in close proximity of place or time, I've learned to pay attention. I'm in the middle of one right now and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be learning...yet. But it is time for this blog, which seems to be a part of this lesson. So, let's see what's going on.

WERNER

I was watching an interview with the legendary documentary filmmaker Werner Herzog. He has directed 65 films over the last 55 years and written most of them. He has won over 50 awards, including Lifetime Achievement awards. 

"I saw my first cinema at 11." He grew up in a very small town and a traveling projectionist finally passed through and showed a "terrible" samurai film in the town's one room schoolhouse. Herzog was not only amazed at how a film could show another place, but he noticed a particular three seconds.

In a battle, a man is shot with an arrow, and falls dead from a high rock. Later, in the same battle, the same three seconds occurs--the exact same three seconds, spliced in twice. None of his friends believed him. He stayed through a second showing to prove to himself what he'd seen.

"It was the moment that I understood that film had structure. That it was built up of pieces."

He had seen the furniture move.

STEELE

One of my favorite examples of this is Danielle Steele. Many think she is just a trashy romance writer. And every one of those people should look at the fortunes she's made--there are few writers who can boast such sales numbers. Danielle Steele doesn't only show you the furniture moving, she tells you that she's about to show it.

"Look. Look over here. Their relationship that was going along so smoothly is headed for trouble. See? See? They just don't know it yet. Here it comes..." Boom!

TEACHER

I was speaking with a writing teacher today and he was talking about trying to explain to students that the furniture doesn't merely move, it must move with purpose. And student after student was shocked, "Oh, I see it now." As if they didn't get what was happening.

The moving furniture can be anything: plot, theme, romance, Christmas, a meal... Think of the splendid Stanley Tucci movie Big Night. It is an entire movie centered around a meal.

ME

Everything has purpose. The better writer I become, the more clearly I see it. Just this morning, I was brainstorming my next book with my wife. 

"Well," I tell her, "they are both experts in explosives." (This is in my military romantic suspense Delta Force series.)

"I get it! When do they blow up the relationship? Short fuse or long and slow?" ...and the conversation spun on from there.

3 REASONS

So, I was puzzling at the collision of these different events: three of them in the same 18 hour period. (I'd read the Danielle Steele book several years ago, but remember it very clearly...another sign that she's a good writer, whether or not you like her writing.)

As I tried to explain this three-way collision to my wife, she laughed and said something that she's mentioned a myriad of times to me: "Right. Everything you do has to have 3 reasons." (She thinks I'm really good at that. Frankly, I'm just starting to understand it.)

What does she mean? Big Night is indeed centered around a single, perfect meal. But it is also about the struggles of two brothers. It is about hope and how to find it again no matter how far it has strayed. The meal isn't only the vehicle for the movie to progress forward, or the many plot points attached to it (which I won't give spoilers on), but the meal is also about how hope is possible under even the worst of circumstances.

That meal doesn't serve 3 reasons, it serves more like 30!

As a writer, I have studied the true masters of the craft. I have typed the opening of almost every novel in the house just trying to understand how they did it. I've typed in the last line of one chapter and the first of the next to study the craft of cliffhangers by a dozen different authors. 

And as I do this, after 50 novels, I feel that I am finally starting to understand how these pieces and objects move and intertwine. Watch any episode in the first 4 years of The West Wing and sit in awe at what Aaron Sorkin does with each layer. Watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, which he wrote after that--his craft is even more incredible. Everything--EVERYTHING--serves multiple purposes: the clock, the set pieces, the roles of the actors, everything.

Watch episodes 13 and 14, "The Harriet Dinner." I watched it 20+ times trying to understand what he did and it still mystifies me.

I'm slowing learning about the furniture in my own stories, especially this week. I hope this helps you learn about yours...or helps you enjoy and appreciate the writers you love even more.

M.L. Buchman started the first of over 50 novels while flying from South Korea to ride his bicycle across the Australian Outback. He was on a solo around the world trip that ultimately launched his writing career.

All three of his military romantic suspense series—The Night Stalkers, Firehawks, and Delta Force—have had a title named “Top 10 Romance of the Year” by the American Library Association’s Booklist. NPR and Barnes & Noble have named other titles “Top 5 Romance of the Year.” In 2016 he was a finalist for Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA award. He also writes: contemporary romance, thrillers, and fantasy.

Past lives include: years as a corporate project manager, rebuilding and single-handing a fifty-foot sailboat, both flying and jumping out of airplanes, and he has designed and built two houses. He is now making his living as a full-time writer on the Oregon Coast with his beloved wife and is constantly amazed at what you can do with a degree in Geophysics. You may keep up with his writing and receive a free starter e-library by subscribing to his newsletter at:

www.mlbuchman.com.

Most Romantic...PROOF?

Top Ten Ways Authors convince readers the Hero is in love with the Heroine (and vice versa)

by Kristin Holt 

He may not say "I love you" often, but he goes out of his way to make sure she feels it.

How do romance authors convince readers their fictional characters are falling in love?

Authors employing strategies, including (but not limited to):

(Note: I'll substitute Hero and Heroine interchangeably for readability. None of these are gender-specific.)

1)  Enough scenes together. (What ninny falls in love at one glance--and from a great distance? One Disney princess, for whom I have no professional respect. She shall remain unnamed.)

2)  They talk. Really talk. Important characteristics are revealed. (It's hard to fall in love with a turnip. Even a gorgeous turnip.)

3)  The heroine denies falling for him--or tries desperately to talk herself out of it. After all, it's a rotten idea, because...

4)  She's the ONE woman he shouldn't fall for--because she brings up emotional stuff he doesn't want to address. (Universal fiction truth: No Conflict, No Story.)

5)  Hero behaves like a man in love--in character, in gender-specific ways.

6)  Even in G-Rated  romances, physical attraction/awareness is part of falling in love. First or last, it must be there. Type? Boundaries? Determined by heat level and subgenre.

7)  Something new is revealed and understanding occurs. Her motivations make sense, she makes sense. Readers get it without a whisper of explanation.

8)  Nothing happens in a vacuum. A bad guy threatens the heroine's life, the hero is forced to act. The reader intuitively understands his motivation.

9)  The heroine makes a grand gesture. The romance story arc always features one or both characters running the relationship aground. Grand gesture? She'll stand on that pitcher's mound, in front of the whole school, awaiting that first kiss...

Grand Gesture scene from Never Been Kissed. Source: Pinterest.

10) THIS ONE IS UP TO YOU. When reading a romance, how do you know when a character has fallen in love? What do you need to see to believe it? REPLY, and tell us what the list isn't complete without!

I have  TWO new romances for you this month (well, make that SIX!)

Gunsmoke & Gingham, an anthology containing my new title The Gunsmith's Bride.

Can Morgan welcome the same difficult woman as stepmother and mother-in-law?

This story is surrounded by five more sweet western historical romance novellas. Fall in love, 5 different ways!

and

Sophia's Leap-Year Courtship. (Preorder now! Debuts this Friday: 2-24-17)

A Fake Mail-Order Bride. A Leap-Year Courtship. A Newspaperman's Meddling. A Man in Love.

Hi! I'm Kristin Holt, USA Today Bestselling Author.

I write frequent articles (or view recent posts easily on my Home Page, scroll down) about the nineteenth century American West–every subject of possible interest to readers, amateur historians, authors…as all of these tidbits surfaced while researching for my books. I also blog monthly at Sweet Romance Reads, Sweet Americana Sweethearts, and Romancing the Genres.

I love to hear from readers! Please drop me a note. Or find me on Facebook.

Sweet Romance Appropriate for All Audiences

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