Can I share a secret with you? One that I haven’t even shared with my partner, the love of my life. Of course, he’s going to find out soon enough, when he reads this blog. But it’s coming as a surprise to him, and I simply love surprising him! I love presenting him with unexpected delights – be it food or – um – anything else that he may well – er – enjoy. Well, here’s my secret! I want romance in my life, every single moment of it. Well, I know that’s not only impossible, but also – let’s face, a bit greedy. I have love, don’t I? I have a tender, sweet, ever-caring hunk of masculinity – oh! How I wish I could travel back in time to when we first met, our eyes clashing – mine angrily, his in amusement as he watched me fume. Not that he was laughing at me, I discovered many, many months later, when we shared confidences, pouring over every precious interlude that we shared, every loving gaze and reasons for our rather stormy courtship. He was laughing then, because, like me, he’d fallen in love, knew it and welcomed it, charting a careful strategy to win me over. I’d reacted to the situation, new and alien to me. Here was a man who was threatening my bachelorettehood. Oh, I know – that’s not even a word. But it should be.
I grew up independent, fiercely so. I was my own person and I challenged every single unfortunate individual who threatened my individuality. I ventured into new adventures every opportunity that presented itself. I still do, as a matter of fact. And this gorgeous specimen of manhood was, with his searing gaze, heartfelt warmth, arrogant curl of lip, enquiringly cocked eyebrow (I hated it at first, then simply loved it) and sweet, adorable smile won my heart in that first instant. I fought it, then yearned it. I battled him, then cherished him. Till he proposed, which by the way, I mistook for an indecent proposition and … okay, we made up once I figured out that I made him as nervous and excited as he made me.
Memories are precious, tell us about your favourite memory.
Which is why I began fantasizing about romantic moments such as the ones that I lived, breathed and relived all my life. Interestingly, I could never put myself, not quite literally anyway, in the shoes of the heroine of my fantasies. I began weaving plots, tons and tons of them, of gorgeous and stunning women (I’m beautiful, by the way, and I’m not exactly modest either) meeting equally attractive men in exotic locations, falling in love and going through the trials and tribulations of a turbulent relationship before we – oops, sorry – they discover their love for each other.
I went over these stories, imagining conversations – mostly witty arguments (I’m also very smart and articulate) between said lover-to-be. The denouement of my stories is always an exchange of secrets, heartfelt emotions and confessions. The element of surprise was key to me, just as my partner always surprised me and I loved to surprise him.
As I began putting pen to paper, almost an academic exercise in the beginning, long before I decided to publish anything, just to see if I could do it. After I finished writing my third book, I decided to ask the love of my life to read one. I was terribly nervous, wondering if he’d laugh at me – the arrogance was very much still there, infuriating sometimes but always revealing an endearing quality – his honesty. Strange that he’s not one of those spouses who lies to please. He loved it! Oh, being the constructive critic that he is, he pointed out a few flaws, and then told me in his typical blunt, no-nonsense fashion, ‘You’ll need a copyeditor.’ I could’ve hugged him. I did, as a matter of fact.
Dawn Hill Publications, to my everlasting gratitude came to my rescue after tons of submissions, all rejected, of course, to agents, publishers and the like. I was convinced that I can write. My copyeditor, when I finally found one, found many mistakes but no fundamental flaws and declared that I had a nice style. I’ll let you decide after reading my books.
Between these two critics, I identified the most basic mistakes that a first-time author can make, for instance the excessive use of adverbs and getting the timing all wrong. Forgetting what my heroine was wearing and forgetting what I’d written in chapter one which I contradicted in chapter four.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t avoid typical pitfalls of the romantic genre – I took myself far too seriously! I began injecting humour (I have a great sense of humour, by the way). I simply can’t help bursting into giggles when my hubby’s dry wit surfaces and his commentary on the world in general and the situation in particular.
Do you know, he once asked me, “Love, why romance? I thought you liked watching crime.’ I’m an avid watcher of reality crime – not so much the oh-so-predictable procedurals. He often teases me – calls them training videos. Get it? I was ROFLMAO!
To be honest this one got us as well! Does your partner feel the same about procedurals ?
My answer was, ‘Sweetheart, I want to fall in love all over again. And I can do that over and over again, as many times as I want, without ever leaving home and experimenting with my knowledge of those training videos.’
He laughed. Oh, how he laughed. Highs and lows – we all have them. I did too. Only, I enjoyed every single wonderful, hair-raising, gut-wrenching, emotional rollercoaster of my romances. I laughed with my couples, cried with them and loved as I’ve done all my life. It’s not escaping reality. I was embracing it.
I hope you do too. Read my first book, one of many, ‘Billionaire Boss, Undercover Affair.’ I don’t look like Susan, though, we couldn’t be more dissimilar. I’ve always wondered how I’d look like if I were to be blonde – I’m a brunette. She’s an expert at business. I get my husband to manage our finances. She’s supremely confident in the boardroom, tentative, vulnerable and uncertain of herself outside it. And she’s more human than any paragon of virtue you might meet in other romance novels. Miles, on the other hand, is the most tender, loving man anyone would be lucky to meet. And fall in love. Theirs is a timeless romance.
Read it. Let me know what you think.
Love
