As my contribution to Romancing the Hop, I am delighted to offer a ‘how-to’ for cranking up your romance quotient.
One lucky commenter on my blog will win one of my books (winner’s choice, so make sure you check out my books). Then, when you are finished your visit here, I invite you to go on over to the central Romancing the Hop site at http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.ca/p/romancing-blog-hop.html,where you can discover many other fabulous romance authors, win prizes, and have a great time.
At the risk of sounding immodest, the advice I’m about to impart today is so simple, yet so brilliant, I expect to be awarded a significant humanitarian award. Like the Nobel Peace Prize. Or the Order of Canada. Or the coveted Above-and-Below-the-Sheets Romance Upgrade Award.
At this very moment, men of all ages are wandering through life in a state of panic, not to mention despair, having left the purchase of a birthday or anniversary gift for their lady-love until the last possible moment. We don’t know what causes this unspeakable madness. Performance anxiety? Selective amnesia? An expectation that a pair of tickets to the next Yankee’s game is an acceptable gift? Reasons abound. They vary from man to man, and they are irrelevant. But I digress. Whatever the cause, I’ve seen many a dude, his eyes glinting with desperation, manly brow beaded with driblets of sweat, scouring jewelery stores, candy counters, and lingerie racks in a frenzied quest for the perfect gift, one that will scream romance to his lady-love.
Please don’t get me wrong. I enjoy receiving diamonds, chocolate, and edible panties (‘Strawberry Passion’ rocks) as much as the next woman. Hey, I would kill for a Tanzanite pendant and matching earrings. I am not, I repeat, NOT advocating we scrap the lavish gift-giving ritual. Nevertheless, I contend that there’s more to demonstrating romance than a 20-pound Lady Godiva gift tower. To put my money where my mouth is, I will share with you the secret for injecting more romance into your relationship, both in and out of the bedroom:
A man must learn what makes his woman tick.
Yes, folks, it really is that simple.
Since the beginning of time, we women have struggled, sadly with limited success, to instill more romance into our relationships. The good news is, the failure is not our fault. Seriously. The key to living the romantic dream nestles in the capable, not to mention long-fingered, sensitive, well-manicured, sinewy, and delightfully work-roughened hands of our romantically-challenged main squeeze. Think, for example, how wonderful it would be if our man grasped that overt ogling of the waitresses at Hooters was an unconditional no-no; how delightful if our man embraced our hormone-whipped mood swings with a hug, reassuring words, and an offer to clean the toilets; how glorious if our man listened with unfeigned interest to our frustrations, hurts, and complaints—without offering advice on how we should handle the situation; how totally sublime if our man memorized all our most sensitive spots and lavished attention on each and every of them. Frequently. Gently but firmly. The way we love most.
Okay, so I sense skepticism. How, you ask, can we impart this knowledge to our menfolk without indulging in mind-melding or nasty threats involving sharp implements? In the interest of female solidarity, I’m willing to share my mind-blowing ‘how-to’ secret:
Introduce the love of your life to romance fiction.
Okay, so I’m taking the high road and ignoring the eye-rolls. Bear with me. To achieve this goal, I have devised an Action Plan containing Tasks, Sub-Tasks, and Milestones.
The first task is sneaky. It exploits men’s love of logic. This is where you explain to him that romance novels provide unlimited opportunities for a man to plumb the depths (so to speak) of the mysterious world of Venus. In the process, he might even reach new insight into Martians. How, I ask you, can any man in his right mind resist unveiling the feminine mystique–what we love, what we hate, what turns us on, what turns us off, in short, what makes us tick?
Once you reach the first milestone (his buy-in that romance novels offer men untold benefits), it’s time to implement task two. Take a deep breath and drop a hint that, going forward (that’s man-speak, required to indicate you’re on his wave-length), his enlightenment will cause those Gates of Paradise to open more often. And bingo! He’s riveted by the bait of abundant sex. You’ve achieved the second milestone.
At this point, you must advance quickly to task three. Tap into his competitive streak by recounting your recurring fantasy of a man sprawled in an airport chair, legs crossed, waiting for his flight, briefcase and laptop at his feet—a manly man, a hunk who is truly comfortable in his own skin, a studmuffin who is dabbing the tears in his eyes, a hottie who has discarded his business report on financial trends in favor of the latest Nora Roberts bestseller. Assure him that at the end of the day (more man-speak), only real men read romance.
If you’ve done your job properly, you’ll soon hear him beg for Maureen Fisher’s newest romantic crime mystery, or even romances by lesser-known authors like Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Kristan Higgins, and Susan Mallery. Simply hand your dude the mushiest romance novel you can find, place a box of tissues within easy reach, and give him space to do the rest.
Mission accomplished! I offer you a transformed man, a man who understands women inside and out, and, more to the point, a man who knows what to do to and how to do it to crank up the romance quotient.
So if you would like to share, what was the best gift you received from your main squeeze? Remember, one lucky commenter on my blog will not only win one of my books (winner’s choice), but will also be eligible for one of the Grand Prizes. After that, I invite you to go on over to the central Romancing the Hop site at http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.ca/p/romancing-blog-hop.html,where you can discover many other fabulous romance authors, win prizes, and have a great time.
Maureen Fisher’s Books
5 Stars: “An intricately woven tale of mystery, romance and the supernatural …”
5 Stars: “Hilarious banter, scorching sexual tension, gripping suspense, mysticism—The Jaguar Legacy has it all! …”
Ancient Danger Stalks the Jungle on Velvet Paws
A journalist determined to unveil the truth …
Journalist Charley Underhill barges in on a Mexican archaeological dig, bent on sifting rumors from truth about several unexplained deaths in the remote region. She has serious doubt it was an ancient curse that killed the men. If it means keeping a watchful eye peeled for hairy, hungry predators or lying to the no-good womanizing archaeologist with a sexy Scottish accent, brilliant scientific mind, and penchant for gaudy Hawaiian shirts, so be it. Only the juiciest of exposés will fund her mother’s life-saving treatment.
An archaeologist hell-bent on preventing a premature press leak …
Uncovering the past is archaeologist Dr. Alistair Kincaid’s purpose in life. Still smarting from a ruthless betrayal, he guards his latest discovery, an ancient Olmec city buried deep in the jungles of Oaxaca, in the hopes of making a dazzling comeback. He won’t let a snoopy reporter, even one with a quirky sense of humor, smarts, and a heartwarming smile, destroy his last chance at success. Or steal his heart.
Together, they uncover long-buried secrets best left untouched …
Strands from past lives intertwine with the present, drawing the couple deeper into a legacy of shapeshifting and danger, romance and evil, reincarnation and karma. Torn between saving her mother’s life and betraying the man she loves, Charley must make an impossible choice.
Fur Ball Fever
A romantic crime mystery spiked with attitude (most of it warped), tons of humor, and enough steamy sex to drive those who dare read it racing for a cold shower
http://amzn.to/QqYdOC (Amazon US)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005L40LX6 (Amazon UK)
5 Stars: “One for the Money meets Best in Show.”
5 Stars: “Fun romance with laugh out loud humor!”
An impulsive pet spa owner who loses her client’s prize pooch …
After a lifetime of impetuous mistakes, pet spa owner Grace Donnelly outdoes herself when she loses Miss Coco Chanel—a shoo-in to win the annual Jersey Shore Fur Ball. Money, careers, and lives are in jeopardy. Too bad her helpers consist of an aging hippie aunt, a renegade schnauzer, and a drag queen. Worst of all, the only man truly qualified to help is her former flame, the hunkiest bodyguard north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
A smokin’ hot bodyguard with his own agenda …
Security specialist Nick Jackson faces his worst nightmare when Grace’s amateur investigation nearly blows his undercover operation. Unless he nails the con-artist who scammed local seniors and whacked a witness, his homicidal granddaddy will take justice into his own liver-spotted hands. To salvage his case, his sanity, and his ex-lover’s velvety skin, Nick joins forces with the sassy crusader who rubs him the wrong way—and so many right ways too.
Together, they weather an explosion of murder, mayhem, and fun …
Action bounces between a beach harboring washed-up corpses, a fancy yacht no honest preacher could possibly afford, and the bawdiest nightclub in Atlantic City. Hazards multiply like bunnies, culminating in romance … and a Fur Ball extravaganza the locals will never forget.