LS Phoenix's Blog, page 24

Things Only Romance Readers Understand

1. You’ve 100% fallen in love with a fictional man
2. You’ve stayed up way too late for “just one more chapter”
3. The spice level directly affects your reading speed
4. You take fictional breakups way too personally

Sir, you better grovel.You don’t just apologize—you suffer, you beg, and you prove yourself worthy. A spicy scene so perfectly written it nearly broke youWe are personally invested in his redemption arc.

5. You secretly judge people who say they don’t read romance

6. You’ve read a scene so good, you had to stop and scream into a pillow

The first kiss that had insane tension buildupA spicy scene so perfectly written it nearly broke youA line so romantic you just sat there staring at the ceiling in emotional turmoil7. Your TBR is a disaster, and you’re fine with it
Will that stop you from adding ten more books this week? Also no.
We’re in too deep, and we like it here.

If you’re a romance reader, you know there are certain things we experience that no one else quite gets. Let’s talk about the signs you’re officially a romance book addict.

Let’s be real—sometimes fictional men are better than real ones. They know exactly what to say, they grovel properly, and they can send a single heated look across the room that ruins you. Meanwhile, real-life men? They don’t even text back.

We all know “one more chapter” is a lie. If the book has you hooked, you’re not sleeping until you either finish it or pass out from exhaustion. And if it ends on a cliffhanger? Guess you’re starting the next book immediately.

When things start heating up, suddenly your reading pace triples. Eyes wide, speed-reading, gripping your Kindle like it might spontaneously combust. Bonus points if you have to pause and take a breath before continuing.

When the main character screws up and breaks the heroine’s heart, we all have the same reaction:

Oh, you don’t read romance? That’s cute. But we know the truth: romance books have the best character development, tension, and emotional depth. If you’re not reading romance, you’re missing out on peak storytelling.

It could be:

Either way, the pillow scream was necessary.Will you ever get through your 3,000-book TBR list? No.

Romance readers, what would you add to this list? Drop your best “only romance readers understand” moments in the comments.

My Top 5 Dirty-Talking Heroes

🔥 Some heroes make you blush. Others make you need a fan. Here are five men who have mastered the art of dirty talk— the kind that lingers in your mind long after you turn the page.

📖 1. Caleb (A Taste of Gratitude – Coming 2025) – Sweet outside the bedroom, filthy inside it. Caleb knows exactly when to tease, when to push, and when to whisper the kind of words that leave you breathless.
📖 2. Jake (Alaskan Heat – Coming 2025) – A grumpy, rugged alpha who fights his attraction until it snaps. And when it does? His dirty mouth makes it very clear he’s done pretending.
📖 3. Niall (Beneath the Pages – Free Newsletter Exclusive – Get it here) – A broody Irishman with a sinful tongue, both in how he talks and how he uses it. If you love a man who can wreck you with an accent and a well-placed word, Niall is the one.
📖 4. Malcom (Carnal Urges – J.T. Geissinger) – Irish mobster with the best slow, dirty talk in romance. He knows exactly how to ruin a woman with nothing but his voice.
📖 5. Nathan (Praise – Sara Cate) – A man who can make you beg with just a few well-placed words and absolute control over every inch of your body.

🔥 Who’s your favorite dirty-talking book boyfriend? Drop your favorite line in the comments!

One Night, One Fire

The second the hotel room door slammed shut behind us, I was already backing toward the bed, his hands gripping my hips, his mouth chasing mine with a hunger that made my knees weak.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmured against his lips, but my body had already betrayed me.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice rough, teasing as his fingers dug into my bare waist. “But you want this as much as I do.”

Damn him, he was right.

A work event. Too many stolen glances. That offhanded challenge about whether he was as good with his hands as he claimed. Then the next thing I knew, I was standing outside his hotel room, breathless, tingling, and completely out of excuses.

And now?

Now I was wrapped around him, my body arching into every touch, as if I’d been starved for this exact moment.

His fingers ran down my back, skimming the barely-there lace of my lingerie. “You knew this would happen the second you let me buy you that drink.”

“I knew I wanted it,” I admitted.

His grin was wicked, all dimples and heat as he swept his tongue over my bottom lip before nipping it between his teeth. “Then stop thinking, sweetheart. Let me do what we came here for.”

I barely had time to process that before he dropped to his knees, his palms smoothing down my thighs, spreading them slightly as he nosed along the hem of my panties. My fingers curled into his hair on instinct, my breath catching as his mouth traced up my inner thigh, so agonizingly slow I wanted to scream.

“Impatient?” he murmured against my skin.

“I swear, if you—”

I didn’t get the rest of the sentence out before his tongue replaced his fingers, hot and sure, devastatingly good as he pushed me back onto the bed, his hands gripping my thighs and pulling me forward until I was on the edge of the mattress.

I gasped, my back hitting the sheets, my fingers fisting in them as my thighs trembled. “Jesus—”

His laugh was low and sinful. “Not quite.”

He owned me in that moment—every single nerve ending tuned into the way his tongue flicked, the way his grip tightened, holding me down as I rocked against his mouth.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, voice thick, teasing. “Give me what I want.”

And oh, did I.

A rush of heat, a sharp gasp, my body shattering under him as he groaned into my skin, riding every single wave with me.

I was still catching my breath when he stood, his pupils blown wide, lips glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like sin,” he rasped, pulling me to my knees so we were face-to-face. “My turn.”

I laughed breathlessly, palming him through his briefs, feeling the sheer size of him, the way he twitched at my touch. “Oh, I was already planning on it.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as I kissed down his stomach, dragging my nails lightly over his abs before sliding my fingers under the waistband of his briefs. I peeled them down slowly, my eyes locked on his, making him watch as I took him in my hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head tipping back as I licked the length of him, teasing, testing. His hand fisted in my hair, not forcing, just holding, his chest rising and falling as I took him deep.

I kept him there, hollowing my cheeks, swirling my tongue, my free hand gripping his thigh as he cursed under his breath.

“Goddamn,” he panted, his fingers tightening. “You’re gonna make me lose it, baby.”

That only encouraged me.

I worked him over, slow, then fast, then slow again, until he was shaking, his abs tightening, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Then, in a lightning fast move, he pulled me up, flipping me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head as he hovered over me. “You’re too good at that,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

“Maybe I’m just really motivated,” I teased, lifting my hips against him.

“Then let me return the favor.”

He grabbed my thighs, yanking me flush against him, rolling his hips just once, sending sparks straight through my core.

“Condom,” he muttered, already reaching for his wallet.

I barely had time to nod before he pulled one out, tearing into the foil with his teeth, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

I barely had a second to process before he was lining himself up, the head of him teasing, pressing.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him as he pushed inside, inch by devastating inch.

I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me, stretching me wide, his jaw clenching as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his breath hot against my ear.

And then he moved.

He set a rhythm that was both slow and punishing, his hips rolling against mine, his grip firm as he held me exactly where he wanted me.

“More,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

He groaned, shifting his angle, hitting the exact spot that had me arching off the bed, my fingers clawing at his back.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my throat. “Let me hear you.”

I screamed his name as the pleasure coiled tighter, the pressure building, my entire body trembling beneath him.

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he coaxed, his fingers finding the exact spot that sent me spiraling over the edge.

My orgasm crashed into me, raw and overwhelming, my body clenching around him as he cursed, his own control snapping. He drove into me once, twice—then stilled, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as he let go.

The room was silent except for our ragged breathing, the weight of him heavy, grounding.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, just existing in the aftermath.

Then he rolled onto his back, dragging me with him, my head resting on his chest as he let out a satisfied sigh.

“That was…” I trailed off, still breathless.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my bare back. “Fucking yeah.”

I laughed, tilting my chin up to look at him. “So what now?”

His grin was wicked, his fingers slipping under the covers, moving against my hip, then lower.

“I was thinking round two.”

I shivered at the promise in his voice, my own grin spreading as I rolled on top of him.

“Your turn to beg,” I teased.

His eyes darkened. “Oh, sweetheart, you really wanna play that game with me?”

Maybe it had been a mistake, coming back to this room with him. Maybe it was reckless.

But I had a feeling neither of us would regret it.

The End

Would You Rather – Romance Edition

🔥 Let’s play Would You Rather – Romance Edition! 

Drop your answers in the comments!

Would you rather…

 Fall for the grumpy, broody hero OR the cocky, playful one?
 Have a forbidden romance OR a second-chance romance?
 Be caught in a love triangle OR forced into a fake relationship?
 Live in a small town romance OR a dark, dangerous romance world?
 Have a hero who is obsessed with you OR desperately fighting his feelings for you?

🔥 Drop your answers below and let’s debate!

How Dirty Talk Deepens Chemistry

🔥 Dirty talk isn’t just about making a scene hotter (though it absolutely does). It’s a window into the MMC’s head—and the best ones make every word *personal. 

 

- It shows how much he wants her, how wrecked he is for her. 

- It builds tension—whether he’s murmuring promises in her ear or telling her exactly how she’s going to fall apart for him.  

- It makes the moment more intimate—because it’s his words, his desire, directed only at her.  

 

When done right, dirty talk doesn’t just make a scene spicy. It makes it intimate—a mix of raw heat and undeniable connection.  

 

🔥 What’s your favorite dirty-talk moment in a book? Drop a quote below!

Romance Book Terms Explained – A Guide for Readers

 

Ever see romance book terms floating around and wonder what they mean? Here’s a little guide to a few of them!

📖 🔹 Dual POV – The story is told from both the hero and heroine’s perspective. You get inside both of their heads!
📖 🔹 Reverse Harem (RH) – One FMC, multiple love interests. No choosing required!
📖 🔹 Second-Chance Romance – A love story about a couple with history—maybe they broke up, lost touch, or had unfinished business.
📖 🔹 Groveling Scene – When the MMC messes up so badly that he has to work HARD to win her back. The more suffering, the better.
📖 🔹 Possessive Hero – A hero who is borderline obsessed with the FMC. Protective, jealous, and absolutely down bad for her.
📖 🔹 Slow Burn – The couple doesn’t get together right away—longing, tension, and anticipation build up until it explodes.

🔥 What’s your favorite romance trope term? Drop it below or add one I missed!

The Art of a Dirty-Talking Hero

🔥 Some heroes make you swoon with heartfelt confessions. Others? They ruin you with a filthy mouth and a confidence that makes your knees weak before they even lay a hand on you.

 

A great dirty talker isn’t just about throwing out explicit lines—it’s about control, tension, and knowing exactly what will get under a character’s skin.

 

✔ Confidence – He doesn’t hesitate. He knows exactly what he wants, and he’s not afraid to say it.  

✔ Teasing Energy – He makes her blush before he even lays a hand on her. It’s a game, and he’s already winning.  

✔ Raw, Unfiltered Desire – When he talks, you *feel* the need in his voice, the way his words alone make the chemistry between them combust.  

✔ Perfect Timing – Sometimes a slow whisper is sexier than a growl. Sometimes a filthy command is hotter than a compliment. The best dirty talkers know when to push and when to let their words simmer.  

 

🔥 What makes a dirty-talking hero irresistible to you? Let’s hear it in the comments!

The Ultimate Spice Scale: How Hot is Your Book?

Not all romance books bring the same level of heat, and let’s be honest—readers want to know what they’re getting into before they dive in. Some prefer a slow simmer, while others want full-on fire. So where does your book land on the spice scale?

🔥 Level 1: Sweet Romance – Kisses, soft touches, and fade-to-black. Everything is implied, nothing is explicit. Readers who prefer emotional intimacy over steam love this style.

🔥🔥 Level 2: Suggestive but Subtle – Things heat up, but the scenes still fade out or focus on the emotional rather than the physical details.

🔥🔥🔥 Level 3: Open-Door but Tame – On-page spice, but with less explicit detail. Think romance-first, heat-second.

🔥🔥🔥🔥 Level 4: Full-On Spicy – Descriptive, detailed, and deliciously steamy. Dirty talk, tension, and everything laid bare (literally).

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Level 5: Off-the-Charts Heat – No holding back. Raw, intense, sometimes even pushing boundaries. Readers picking up a Level 5 book want the spice front and center.

No matter where your book falls, the key is consistency. Set the tone early, meet reader expectations, and deliver spice in a way that matches the characters and the story.

Reckless Heat

I should leave.

I should push off this bed, grab my shirt, and get the hell out of here before I do something I can’t take back.

But Jace is staring at me like he’s seconds away from devouring me whole.

He’s leaned back against the headboard, shirtless, his jeans undone just enough to be dangerous. The sharp angles of his chest and abs gleam under the soft light from the window, but it’s his expression that’s got me locked in place—half amusement, half pure, unfiltered hunger.

“Sarah.” My name rolls off his tongue like a warning. Or a promise.

My fingers dig into the comforter beneath me. I should not be straddling him right now. I should not be staring at his lips, wondering what they’d feel like all over me.

Jace tilts his head, a slow smirk curling his lips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His rough, deep voice drips with cocky confidence. “You look like you just realized what kind of trouble you’re in.”

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering as I shift against him. My thighs burn from the effort of not fully settling into his lap, but I can feel him beneath me—hard, thick, barely restrained.

I can’t move. And I think he knows that.

“You think I’m in trouble?” I manage, forcing my voice to sound steady. “You’re the one pinned beneath me.”

Jace’s laugh is dark and low, sending shivers straight down my spine. “Pinned?” His hands slide up my thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, inching higher. “Baby, if I wanted to flip you over and spread you out beneath me, I could.” He leans in, his breath teasing over my lips. “But I like watching you squirm.”

I glare at him, but my body betrays me. My breathing is unsteady. My skin is burning up. And Jace? He’s taking his damn time drinking in the view.

“Still holding out on me?” He tugs at the hem of my top. “Guess I’ll have to make you beg for it.”

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But then he moves.

His grip tightens, and he rocks his hips up just enough to send fire licking through my veins. A broken sound escapes my throat before I can stop it, and Jace grins like he’s just won a bet.

“There it is,” he murmurs. His fingers slide beneath my top, teasing along my ribcage. “Knew you’d sound fucking beautiful when I finally got you worked up.”

I suck in a breath, my resolve cracking. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re wet as hell,” he counters, his hand slipping between us. His fingers smoothing over the thin lace of my panties, pressing just enough to make me whimper. “Wanna tell me again how much you hate me while I’ve got my hand between your thighs?”

I shudder, my nails digging into his shoulders. He’s so damn cocky, so damn good at pushing me exactly where he wants me.

And the worst part? I like it.

Jace chuckles when I don’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” He pushes my panties aside, teasing over my slick center. “Soaked for me already. Just from a little teasing?” He drags his fingers through my arousal, slipping one thick finger inside me, slow, deliberate. “Tell me, baby—who else gets you like this?”

My nails scrape down his chest, my hips rocking forward involuntarily. I hate that he’s right.

“No one,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together.

Jace groans, his free hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Damn right.” He strokes deep, his fingers moving in a slow, devastating rhythm. “You belong to me tonight, Sarah. You hear me?”

I nod, panting against his lips.

“That’s not good enough,” he growls. “Say it.”

I’m shaking. Desperate. Drowning in him. “I belong to you.”

“Good girl.” His lips crash against mine, all heat and hunger. I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s flipping me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head.

Jace stares down at me, his chest rising and falling, his control hanging by a thread.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along my throat, nipping at my skin. “Thought about you.” He pushes his jeans down, his thick length pressing against my thigh. “Thought about how tight you’d feel around me.”

My breath catches as he teases me, sliding the head of his cock through my slickness but not giving me what I need.

“Now, Jace—”

He presses forward, just enough to stretch me, then pulls back with a wicked grin. “That’s cute, baby. You think you’re in charge now?”

I arch my hips, my body desperate for more, but he just shakes his head.

“Say it again,” he demands.

I glare up at him, biting my lip. “I belong to you.”

“Damn right you do.”

And then he’s inside me, thick and hot and stretching me wide, pushing deep with one slow, devastating thrust. I gasp, my fingers twisting in the sheets, every nerve in my body igniting.

Jace groans, his jaw clenching as he sinks into me. “Fuck, baby. So tight.” His forehead presses against mine, his body trembling as he tries to hold himself together.

He doesn’t move right away. He just stays there, buried to the hilt, forcing me to feel every inch of him.

“Jace,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist pulling him impossibly farther into me.

That’s all it takes to snap his control.

With a low growl, he grips my hips and starts moving, slow at first, deep and deliberate, dragging every inch of pleasure out of me. His lips find mine, his kiss just as punishing as his thrusts, his hands everywhere—gripping, claiming, owning every inch of me.

I lose myself in him.

The rhythm between us builds, the air thick with heat and whispered curses. He growls my name against my skin, tells me how fucking good I feel, how he’s never getting enough of me.

I come undone first, pleasure crashing through me, my body tightening around him like a vice. Jace curses, his movements faltering as he chases his own release, his grip bruising as he buries himself deep one last time.

The world spins.

I’m breathless, wrecked, completely and utterly ruined beneath him.

He collapses beside me, dragging me into his arms. His lips press against my temple, his hand splaying possessively over my stomach.

“Still think you’re in control?” he murmurs against my skin, amusement laced in his exhausted voice.

I let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I think we both lost control.”

His chest rumbles with a deep, satisfied chuckle. “Good.” He pulls me tighter against him, his lips brushing my ear. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Thank you for reading this spicy excerpt. This will be part of It Could Only Be You, book two in the Forever and Always series and will release early next year. 

Why Your MMC Needs a Dirty Mouth

Let’s talk about the power of a dirty mouth in romance. Some heroes are sweet talkers, some are grumpy and reluctant, and some? Some have a filthy mouth that makes the FMC weak in the knees. And let’s be real—readers love that.

A well-done dirty talker isn’t just about throwing out the occasional naughty line. It’s an art. It’s about control, teasing, and confidence that feels organic to the character. Here’s why a MMC with a dirty mouth can take your book from good to unforgettably hot:

1. It Shows Confidence – A man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it? That’s sexy. Full stop.

2. It Creates Instant Chemistry – When the MMC can say something so wicked that the FMC blushes, stammers, or gives him a look that could melt steel? Yeah, that’s tension done right.

3. It Raises the Heat Without Physical Touch – Words alone can make a scene just as intense as hands-on action. A whisper in her ear, a low warning, a teasing promise—readers feel every bit of it.

4. It Lets the MMC’s Personality Shine – A dirty talker can be cocky, teasing, smooth, rough, or downright sinful. But it has to fit his character. If done right, his words make him irresistible.

Moral of the story? If your MMC has a dirty mouth, make sure he owns it. Confidence, timing, and a little restraint before unleashing the full effect make all the difference.