Romance isn’t always glamorous

I’m working on my fifth romance right now–the start-ups of two people being attracted to each other, doing the awkward mating dance of Does he like me?  Is he the right one?  In book 5,  Joel’s been married before.  He meant to “save” the girl who seemed too fragile, too messed-up who was in high school with him.  Instead, they have a daughter with cerebral palsy, and his wife can’t cope.  They finally divorce , and Joel raises Adele himself.  He doesn’t expect to marry again.  What woman would take on a daughter who’ll never grow up and leave the nest?  And then he meets Miriam–almost six-feet tall with an inner core of steel.  She’s a high school English teacher–an Amazon with a potty mouth–and what can I say?  She loves his pot belly, and he loves her “take life by the horns” attitude.

I wanted to write a book about a couple who are past the first blush of euphoric romance. These two have had their ups and downs and they don’t expect fireworks at love’s first kiss.  They’ve lowered their hopes, and they end up with more than they ever expected. That’s one of the things I’ve learned to really enjoy about romance.  The story can be about two people, facing serious life challenges, who find a partner who’ll share their battles.

My husband and I have been married a LONG time.  We’ve raised two kids together, helped raise two grandsons with my daughter–a single mom–and we still love being together. There’s still romance, but it’s more practical now.  That’s what I wanted for Joel and Miriam.

Romance, these days, since I broke my leg, means a husband who gladly helps me wash my hair in the kitchen sink and carefully changes the dressing on my leg.  John’s always there for me.  He always has my back.  By the end of book 5,  Joel and Miriam will be that tight, too.