Where have I been, you ask? Writing, traveling, thinking about what to talk about. Now, I'm back.
Since this is February and I write romance, I've decided to talk about hero, heroines and happy endings.
Do you remember your first real boyfriend? Maybe you met him in college or on the job. Maybe you ended up marrying him. This is my story.
I was a senior in high school and I'd only had an occasional date when I met Dick at a church social. We hit it off immediately. I mean, what's not to like about a guy who was a foot taller than my 5'6 with broad shoulders, dark hair that flopped onto his brow and dark eyes that sent messages just for me. Soon we were going steady. He went to school in a town about fifteen minutes away from my home, so we had a great excuse to practice our driving. We went to parties at both of our schools, hockey games (where I had a shoulder to lean on and big strong arms to protect me when the fights got too intense) and we spent a lot of time on the couch in my living room. I guess I should tell you about that couch.
When I entered my junior year, my mom bought a new sofa, a sectional. Each piece was about four feet long. After the delivery men had positioned it to her liking and departed, she smiled at me. "Isn't it great?" she asked me. "It's okay." "Did you notice the length?" I nodded. "It's not an accident that it's too short to lie down on." I gulped. "Now you can have your boyfriends over, and I won't have to worry about them going too far."
She didn't have to worry about Dick. He was a gentleman. Me, on the other hand, well, I guess that's why I grew up to write romance novels where every hero is wonderful, every heroine is someone you can identify with and everything comes out right in the end.
