Why I love Romance?
I am such a hopeless romantic. From the time I read Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem "How do I love thee?" I was hooked. Some of my favorite movies are Romancing the Stone, Six Days Seven Nights, While you were Sleeping, Notting Hill, Some Like it Hot, and The Saint..all romances with a happily ever after and elements of comedy, romance, or adventure. Every day around my busy life of family I am creating new ideas, scenes, and plots in my brain. Conjuring up scandals, love triangles, cliff-hangers and such, and it just works for me. So when I get the chance to finally sit down at my computer I can type out more romance. Every once in a while I will throw in some suspense, a weapon, or some sexy competition for my hero and stir things up a bit, but mostly the knight in shining armor gets the girl and is headed for a wedding or at least the sunset.
I guess the reason I really love to read, write, and watch romance is for the magic. I know it sounds silly to some but there is nothing like watching the hero admit his love to the woman he desperately can’t live without while rescuing her from danger or absolutely making a fool of himself in front of a crowd, or even posing nude while she draws him to make good on a bet like I did in Rodeo Drive. There are so many stories unwritten of how people have fallen in love and I will continue to have fun writing some of them out.
Excerpt from Rodeo Drive…
"Are you ready?"
He nodded and removed the towel. He uncrossed his legs
and sat straight up. I bit my bottom lip and hid behind the
canvas. Nick Bennett had nothing to be embarrassed about.
"Are you laughing again?" he asked.
I peeked around the canvas and stood up. More at ease
than I thought I would be, I went to him. "Not at all," I
replied. I shifted his shoulders and tipped his chin slightly to
"Your hands are cold."
He took my hands and rubbed them between his. I
suddenly had a hot flash as I realized he was touching me
with his hands, and that he was in front of me totally nude.
I gently pulled my hands away and positioned his
shoulders for the second time. "Stay still, okay?" I whispered.
"I don't know why you're so nervous. This isn't so bad, is
it?" I asked, and tipped his chin to the left.
"Why don't you try it, and I'll ask you the same question?"
"I tell you what. If you let me sell this painting on Venice
Beach, I'll be your model."
I stepped back and looked him over. I positioned him
leaning to one side. One hand gripped the stool seat, his
other hand rested on his thigh. His left foot rested on the
bottom piece of wood on the stool, his right foot touched the
"What if some weird man buys my portrait?" he asked.
Rolling my eyes, I began to draw him. I sketched his
shoulders around each bicep. With every stroke, I learned
some detail about Nick Bennett's body. Mostly, I drew and
painted landscapes, so for me portraits were unfamiliar, and
more difficult. I continued to draw his sides and down each
thigh. The muscles in his legs were defined. It looked like he
had ridden a bike more than just that one time at the beach.
I sketched both his legs down to the tips of each toe. His feet
were as nice as his hands. No crooked toes or bad toenails. I
sketched up the inside of each leg, growing nervous. He
hadn't moved his head. He was looking slightly to my right.
He wouldn't know what I was focusing on. I kept going with
all the detail in between his legs. It was a dirty job and I had
the pleasure of doing it. It took me an hour to outline his
shape and get the perspectives correct.
"My butt is numb," he finally said.
"Hey, you didn't want a photo." I waved him to get up.
He stood up without the towel and walked around for a
minute. Apparently, he wasn't embarrassed anymore. He
came closer to me.
"Stay back there," I said. I held up my hand and motioned
for him to stop. "You can't see it until I'm all done."
"What? Come on? How do I know you just aren't scribbling
on the canvas and staring at me?"
"Fine, one look, but after that, not until it's finished."
He came around my side and leaned over me. I felt his
thigh on the back of my arm and I knew the rest of him
I swallowed hard and studied his expression as he
regarded the sketch.
"Not bad," he said and shrugged. "Of course I'm not that
I dared not turn around and take a closer look. "Would you
like me to draw it smaller?" I asked, staring forward.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned down closer
over my shoulder. "Nah, it's good."