I was looking for my cat (or possibly snooping for Christmas presents, shh, don’t tell) under my parents’ bed when I made a discovery that shaped my life—my mother’s stash of Kathleen Woodiwiss romances.
I have no idea why she kept them there. Possibly because they were easy to reach and she didn’t have a nightstand. The more likely reason was that she didn’t want me to see them.
I was a voracious reader even then. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. I was a school librarian’s dream student. I loved going to the library, wandering the stacks and picking as many as they’d allow me to take out.
But even more I loved going to the book store. I wanted to own my books. I didn’t want to have to give them back.
I zipped through the Little House on the Prairie series and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. I had moved on to Harlequin Romances, which I enjoyed.
But Kathleen Woodiwiss… She opened a new universe.
Gritty, dark, sexy and, let’s face it, totally inappropriate for a 12 year old. Still I was hooked.
By the time I reached seventh grade, I’d devoured every single Woodiwiss book published and eagerly pounced on each new release. I can still remember the thrill I got when I cracked open ASHES IN THE WIND for the very first time. I couldn’t put it down. I stashed it inside my textbooks during class so I could keep reading.
I’d also discovered Bertrice Small, Rosemary Rogers and later, Judith Krantz. I still have my original, hardcover copy of PRINCESS DAISY somewhere in my attic.
And when I’d finished with all of those, there were always Harlequin Presents to devour like candy.
Is it really any wonder I grew up to write erotic romance?
For me, a romance isn’t complete without the physical aspect of the relationship. If you close the bedroom door, you’re only telling half the story. Lovemaking is such a natural part of our lives that I feel like you’re missing integral parts of the story if you’re not in the bedroom with the characters.
Writing erotic romance gives me the latitude to explore the sensual side of a relationship in full detail, from first base to home plate, first kiss to last orgasm.
It lets me luxuriate in the senses, from the rough texture of his tongue on her skin to the sensation of her hair sliding against his naked thighs.
Excerpt from HOW TO WORSHIP A GODDESS
Tearing his mouth from hers, he strung a line of kisses from her cheek to her neck, where he couldn’t help himself. He opened his mouth on the pulse beating furiously at the base of her throat.
Her scent made him want to lick her, so he did. A long swipe of his tongue that coaxed a shiver from her. Her hands tightened in his hair, the slight pain cranking his lust into high gear.
He felt his body heat rising, burning, searing. He wanted to devour her right here. Throw her on the floor and ravage her. Hell, the chaise lounges were too civilized for what he wanted to do to her.
Give me a romance that’s spicy hot and I’m a happy camper.
What about you? What’s your heat level?