You know how all this romance novel stuff got started? I read the Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries (which, by the way, are in no way mysterious) and thought “I can do that.” It seemed so easy, like a math problem even I could solve. In my head, it went like this:
1 beautiful (but unassuming) woman
+ 2 gorgeous (and vastly different) men who want her
+ grope, grind, squeeze
= instant bestseller
Easy, right? Nope. Wrong. It turns out love is hard. It’s hard to be in, hard to hold on to, and really hard to write about.
Would somebody please tell Charlaine Harris that I’m sorry for doubting her.