Release Week Post 2 - Onions
RELEASE WEEK POST 2
ONIONS
I’ve now seen a few reviews describe “My Roommate’s Girl” as a slow burn romance, and I admit that description came as a surprise. Now that I’ve thought about it, however, I can’t disagree, even if that was never my intention.
The pacing is deliberate. The major plot points all land in the places I’d originally planned them for, but I guess the reason “slow burn” didn’t strike me as the right description is because I wasn’t *trying* to make it a slow burn. I wanted the first part of the book to be an unraveling, a peeling back of layers. The blurb for this book is not misleading, nor is the title. Aidan wants his roommate’s girl and he comes up with a not-so-honourable plan to get her. Because he enacts that plan fairly quickly, it seemed wrong to have him promptly be rewarded (sexually) for that action. First he had to pay. (heh heh)
The best part about what comes next (the slow burn, if you insist) is the character development. Aidan carries out his nefarious plan, but then his imagined next steps—get the girl, then forget about her—don’t go quite as planned. Because while Aidan looks at Aster like she’s some sort of golden trophy, the destruction of her relationship with Jerry and her subsequent friendship with Aidan forces him to see *her* layers. And seeing her hidden layers exposes his hidden layers and it’s a cycle that peels back piece after piece until they’re both in a more honest and open place—and ready to hook up.
At the start of the book, Aidan sees Aster only as a physical object. She’s hot, he wants her. Okay, she’s pretty nice. Still wants her. She’s smart, okay, that’s a bonus. Then he sees her when she’s sad, and realizes she’s not just a figurehead, she’s an actual person. And the more he begins to regard her as human, the more genuinely he wants her, in ways he’s never wanted anything. In ways that have nothing to do with sex, and ways he can’t ignore. And that increases the emotional stakes, which are so crucial in romance. (And in most genres.)
Now that I’ve said all that, I guess I’ve made a solid argument that this book *is* a slow burn. So stick with it and peel back the layers. There’s nothing special waiting for you inside an onion, but I’d like to believe there’s something special in this book. (Plus it probably won’t make you cry.)
ONIONS
I’ve now seen a few reviews describe “My Roommate’s Girl” as a slow burn romance, and I admit that description came as a surprise. Now that I’ve thought about it, however, I can’t disagree, even if that was never my intention.
The pacing is deliberate. The major plot points all land in the places I’d originally planned them for, but I guess the reason “slow burn” didn’t strike me as the right description is because I wasn’t *trying* to make it a slow burn. I wanted the first part of the book to be an unraveling, a peeling back of layers. The blurb for this book is not misleading, nor is the title. Aidan wants his roommate’s girl and he comes up with a not-so-honourable plan to get her. Because he enacts that plan fairly quickly, it seemed wrong to have him promptly be rewarded (sexually) for that action. First he had to pay. (heh heh)
The best part about what comes next (the slow burn, if you insist) is the character development. Aidan carries out his nefarious plan, but then his imagined next steps—get the girl, then forget about her—don’t go quite as planned. Because while Aidan looks at Aster like she’s some sort of golden trophy, the destruction of her relationship with Jerry and her subsequent friendship with Aidan forces him to see *her* layers. And seeing her hidden layers exposes his hidden layers and it’s a cycle that peels back piece after piece until they’re both in a more honest and open place—and ready to hook up.
At the start of the book, Aidan sees Aster only as a physical object. She’s hot, he wants her. Okay, she’s pretty nice. Still wants her. She’s smart, okay, that’s a bonus. Then he sees her when she’s sad, and realizes she’s not just a figurehead, she’s an actual person. And the more he begins to regard her as human, the more genuinely he wants her, in ways he’s never wanted anything. In ways that have nothing to do with sex, and ways he can’t ignore. And that increases the emotional stakes, which are so crucial in romance. (And in most genres.)
Now that I’ve said all that, I guess I’ve made a solid argument that this book *is* a slow burn. So stick with it and peel back the layers. There’s nothing special waiting for you inside an onion, but I’d like to believe there’s something special in this book. (Plus it probably won’t make you cry.)
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