Here's just a taste of what you'll find in one Harlequin romance nov4e7l.The heroine is Emma, a celebrity author who must stay in an isolated beach house to collaborate on a screenplay with "talented sexy-as-sin Sam Cooper." After much avoidance of Sam, Emma decides to have sex with him, but no involvement.
Emma is ready, but Sam says, "I'm not a barnyard animal! I don't perform on command. . . . Let's . . .
let's talk."
Emma says,
"Look. The smartest thing you ever said was, 'it's just sex. Let's get it out of our systems and get on with it.' Now, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying let's take it slowly. Let nature take its course. . . ."
"Why?" Her voice tightened.
"It's . . . it's more romantic."
She gave an angry snort. "Who's talking about romance?"
"I am. I mean, this is not just about sex."
"Then what is it about? You said that it was just a physical attraction and if we slept together it would go away. So let's just sleep together."
"It's not just a physical attraction. Not for me." His voice softened with a deeper, meaningful note. "I feel something for you. I think I'm falling in love."
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Hunters, do you pick up that handsome, masculine, sexy Sam is mouthing the sentiments that women traditionally feel? He wants totalk, he wants it moreromantic, and he thinks he's falling inlove.
Emma, afraid of her emotions, tries to escape.
Desperate, she turned and bolted out the open sliding door onto the deck. A dark gray curtain of rain slammed into her, drenching her instantly as she leaped toward the railing, intending to swing over and drop into the shallow water where waves crashed and foamed on the shingle four feet below.
Strong hands grabbed her by the waist, hauled her back down and turned her around.
"For God's sake, you've got this all wrong!" he yelled above the roar of the wind and the waves, the rain running down her face.
She struggled in his grip. "Let me go," she sobbed. . . .
"You don't want me, you've made that very clear." She didn't know if she made any sense, didn't care as she thrashed wildly in his arms.
"Does this look like I don't want you?" Sam pulled her close, trapping her against his strong body to stop her moving, and then his hot mouth was on hers, kissing her hard and recklessly. . .
"You're a crazy woman," he moaned. "You make mecrazy. I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know myself anymore." He punctuated every breathless word with mad, feverish kisses. "There's only one thing I know for sure. If I don't have you, if I don't make love to you right now, I'm going to die.'
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Hunters, read between the lines and find all the elements. For example, even in these few paragraphs there is the drama of the encounter, the exotic beach setting, and the heightened emotion of both partners.
Above all, there is Sam—Sam, the tender man who needs her, who loves her. Sam, the strong, the gentle, the passionate. But Sam's passion was not for sex, it was forher.
Now, to the actual sex. When we last left Emma and Sam, they were struggling in the pounding rain with the sound of the waves crashing up against the beach house. They're still there, but by now Sam has
"dragged off her clothing, leaving them both naked to the pounding rain, their sighs and moans washed away in the heavy curtain of rain."
On the crest of the wave she raised her head. The light from the cabin bronzed his wet skin, sculpting his face into powerful planes and inky shadows. She stared into the startling blue of his blazing eyes, saw the thick, dark lashes clumped together with rain. And then it was upon her, overtaking her. Her head fell back as release shuddered through her, wave upon wave rolling over her, tearing wordless cries and moans from her
throat. His hot mouth was on her neck and he jerked wildly, his arms tightening convulsively as he emptied himself into her for one glorious eternity.
Suddenly everything stilled. There was only the insistent rush of the waves and the rain drumming on the deck, on the water below and splashing off their bodies.
Slowly Emma raised her head and saw his closed eyes, the expression between pain and ecstasy as he crooned softly, "My darling girl,"
running his hands down her back, enveloping her in a warmth that was more than just physical. "I want to hold you forever."
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Gentlemen, did you notice? During the sex, Sam's feelings, Sam's expressions, and Sam's cries (even Sam's eyelashes!) came crashing into Emma's consciousness through the pounding rain. After the
"one glorious eternity" there was the "warmth that was more than just physical" and the promise of the future: "I want to hold you forever."
TECHNIQUE #74 (FOR HUNTERS):
READ A HARLEQUIN ROMANCE
Yes, Hunters, I'm serious. You may chuckle, guffaw, gag, roll your eyes, or double up on the floor choking with laughter, but twenty-five million females can't be faking that they like this stuff.
Try it. You may not like it. However, you'lloveher reaction when you try some of the techniques that Raphael, Beau, Felipe, Rigg, Sky, Dunstan, Tuck, Kael, Cagney, and other exotic Harlequin Hunters use to trap their Quarry.
Very steamy stuff to a woman.
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Corny? Perhaps. But certainly no more unrealistic or wishful thinking than the hot animalistic females who cavort through male porn films begging men to be allowed to do them.
Hunters, memorize a few of the phrases and study the choreography of the moves. Perhaps you think your Quarry is the type of woman who wouldn't be caught dead with a Harlequin romance novel in her briefcase, but no matter how sophisticated or emancipated she may be, lines from the novels work wonders. Hearing
"I need you, I want you, I love you" above the roar of the wind and the waves strikes a primitive pre-lib chord in practically every female heart.
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44
Man Wants It
Huntresses, turnabout is
