“Jake …” she muttered and he kissed his way up her body to her mouth, then knelt and reached for the foil package on the bedside table and ripped it open with his teeth.
“Let me …” She grabbed the condom away from him and sat up, the rosy look of sensual excitement suddenly replaced by a serious look of determination. “I know how. I practiced on a cucumber.”
Bernard doesn't just add birth control because of some sort of author's checklist; instead, she uses this intimate moment to develop character, showing the unique way this heroine has prepared herself for her first lovemaking experience.
VIOLENCE
A trouble spot both in terms of political correctness and reader reaction is violence. Many historical periods were very violent, and the historical romance often reflects that. Contemporary romantic suspense plots also frequently involve violence.
How the violence is handled is important. Detailed descriptions that dwell on torture and pain are not appropriate in the romance novel. Violence is more likely to happen offstage than in a fully described scene, and it often happens before the story actually begins.
Violence within the story is more easily accepted by the readers if the characters (especially the heroine) are portrayed as resourceful rather than helpless when faced with a threat.
In her historical single title The Warrior, Claire Delacroix shows the villain attempting to rape the heroine:
He roared and leapt upon her, seizing her hair in his fist before he kissed her brutally.
He was heavier than she had anticipated. … She rolled him toward Nissa's hiding place with an effort, fighting against her revulsion. … He was harsh enough to ensure that she felt a welt rise upon her lip.
When he lifted his head and fingered the swelling with satisfaction, he had only long enough to smile before Aileen spied Nissa. The maid lifted the brass candlestick high. Aileen kept her expression demure so that her assailant would not be warned, then Nissa brought it down upon his head with a loud crack.
Though the heroine is threatened and even injured by the assault, she's still in control of herself and the situation. She doesn't fight the villain; she even plays along so she can get him into position to be taken out by the candlestick-wielding maid.
In her category romantic suspense High-Heeled Alibi, Sydney Ryan shows a contemporary heroine defending herself against a couple of very bad guys:
Holding her bound wrists, the gorilla nudged her forward. … The creep behind her was so close, she could feel his erection pressing into her. Her wrists were bound behind her back, but her feet were free.
The thug gripping her arms released one to open the car door. As he pushed her in, she aimed her spiked heels at his groin and got off a couple good shots to his shins. …
“You wanna play rough?” He came at her, his shaved head ducking her flailing feet. His hand came up, struck her hard once, twice. Her head whipped right and left. Her brain rattled.
“Cut out the social niceties,” the other man growled as he slid into the driver's seat. “There'll be plenty of time for that later.”…
She gingerly prodded with her tongue several teeth loosened by the blows. …
She squirmed against the tight muscles in her upper back, and there, on her right hip she felt it — the barest weight of thin metal. The scalpel still in her lab jacket pocket. … Carefully, staring straight ahead, her clasped hands began pulling the right side of her jacket behind her, quarter inch by quarter inch, until she felt the scalpel beneath her fingers like a magic wand.
“What do you want with me?” She twisted in her seat and stared boldly at the mound of a man next to her. But all her focus was concentrated on the small of her back, where her wrists met and rubbed, soundless millimeter by millimeter, against the blade of the scalpel. …
The scalpel sliced through the last filament of wire. Her wrists were free.
Ryan's heroine is a very cool customer, and the villains aren't quite real-life thugs; when it comes right down to it, they're more talk than action. Still, showing the heroine freeing herself helps offset the high level of violence in this scene.
Violence occurring between the hero and heroine is a particularly difficult issue for the modern romance writer. As society becomes more aware of the dangers of domestic violence, some of the action that was considered acceptable in romance novels in the past takes on a dark and uncomfortable aura. So-called bodice rippers sometimes included the rape of the heroine by the hero, but modern readers find it difficult to believe that a heroine could ever find happiness with a man who abused her, no matter how logical the author's reasoning or how true to the historical period the action may be.
Rape is only incidentally about sex; it's much more about power and control. Many a past romance novel — and a few current ones — excuse a violent or coercive hero by saying that love for the heroine drove him to his actions. But today's authors — whether they are writing historical or contemporary stories — must think carefully about whether the action they are portraying indicates love or abusive control.
THE SPECTRUM OF LOVE SCENES
Just to show the wide range of love scenes and story types, here are a number of love scenes from various categories and kinds of romance novels, starting with the least explicit (inspirational) and moving to the most explicit (erotica).
These scenes are examples, not illustrations of what a particular category of love scene should be. Not only do the types of books differ in their sensuality, language, and approach to lovemaking, but each author within a category or type of romance will make her own love scenes unique.
Inspirational
In her historical inspirational Chloe, Lyn Cote shows a heroine who's not only personally inexperienced but also lacks general knowledge about the whole subject of lovemaking:
The mystery of what intimacies a wedding night entailed loomed before her and uncertainty sluiced through her like ice water. “Theran …”
He came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her, nuzzling her neck. “Don't be afraid of me, Chloe. I'd never hurt you.”
“I know that.” But her voice sounded low and slid over her throat like splintered wood. “I'm going to lie down and turn my back to you. … I'll be waiting, dearest, but take your time.”
A problem presented itself. Her mother still insisted Chloe wear an old-fashioned corset that laced up the back — she said it was the mark of a lady to need a maid to dress herself. But … there was only Theran.
Like a naughty child, she tiptoed over to the side of the bed where he lay. “Ther-an,” she whispered, “I need you to loosen my corset laces.” Her face burned. She was afraid he'd say something bold and embarrassment would kill her.
He said nothing. But the bed springs creaked as he sat up behind her. Then he tugged her gently and made her sit down on the bed. … She felt him untie the laces and then slowly stretch them, crisscross by crisscross, his fingers brushing her spine. … Before she could rise, Theran kissed the back of her neck and drew her back against him. “Don't go away, my sweet bride,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”
She didn't move, her breath suddenly difficult to find. As he kissed her neck and held her spine to his chest, she felt their skin touch and she quivered with the sensation. Slowly, he turned her and drew her up beside him — so close she could hear his heart beating. Or was it hers?
“Trust me,” he whispered and she put her arms around his neck and sighed with his kisses.
Cote uses the corset as a metaphor for Chloe's release from the constraints of girlhood to the freedom of a married woman, through the loving help of her new husband.
In her contemporary inspirational Promise of Forever, Patt Marr shares a simple kiss from the point of view of the hero:
He touched her face, and she leaned her cheek into his hand, closed her eyes and rubbed the corner of her mouth against his palm. It was such a little thing, but it gave him the courage to take her face in both of his hands. “Sometimes I won
der…”
“You wonder …?” Her eyes were on his mouth.
“I wonder what it would feel like …” He lowered his face towards hers slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away.
But she didn't. She held his shoulders and raised her lips to meet his.
The touch of her mouth on his was as sweet as he'd dreamed of. It was just one soft touch, then another. Her arms stole around his neck, and she touched her cheek against his jaw before sliding her lips back to his mouth.
He'd known what it was like to be married and loved, but had he ever felt quite like this?
In this example, a kiss isn't the start of something hotter — but this kiss changes the hero's view of his life.
Inspirationals tend to have virgin heroines and very little physical expression of love between the characters, often confining the hero and heroine to a chaste kiss in the last few pages. Heroes and heroines in inspirationals do not make love, or even seriously contemplate making love, unless they're married. Even when heroes and heroines are married, love scenes are not described in detail.
Sweet Traditional
In this selection from my sweet traditional The Corporate Marriage Campaign, I show a heroine who has made a rational decision to make love with the hero despite her belief at that moment that their relationship — though special — is not a lasting one and will not lead to marriage:
He curved an arm around her waist, pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her long and deeply. She had practically melted by the time he was finished, and any doubt she'd had about the rightness of what she was doing had faded into oblivion. Tomorrow, next week, or in ninety days — when it would all be over — she might regret this. But not now.
He held her an inch away from him. “Maybe I should ask …” He sounded breathless.
She looked straight at him. “Yes, Trey, I really want to make love with you.”
“Good. I'm glad to hear it. But that wasn't what I wanted to know.”
She felt just a bit dizzy and she was having trouble sitting up straight. “Fine time to get curious. What is it?”
“I just need to know if you're being a praying mantis or a black widow spider.”
She smiled. “Neither. You said yourself I'm a rattlesnake.”
“Well, that's a relief — since rattlesnakes don't consume their mates after making love.”
“Though I suppose there's a first time for everything,” she murmured.
“Then I guess I'll just have to make sure you're otherwise satisfied.”…
He carried her into the bedroom, and Darcy stretched out luxuriously on the bed and reached up for him as he shed his jeans and disposed of her T-shirt. “I have to tell you, Trey, that wasn't much of a chase you led me on there.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn't want you to be too exhausted to catch me.” He slid under the sheet next to her. “Or, for that matter, in need of nourishment afterward.”
And then the silliness gave way to tenderness and nurturing, to exploring and enjoying, and finally to soaring and crashing on the tide of passion.
In a sweet traditional, the focus of the love scene stays above the waistline (some would say above the neck). Though heroes and heroines can make love without being — or expecting to be — married, they do not do so without a sense that the relationship is very important. When included, lovemaking scenes are not explicitly described and are generally limited to intercourse.
Long Contemporary
In this section from her long contemporary Almost a Family, Roxanne Rustand shows a slightly more explicit style of love scene, with more details and a wider range of actions for the lovers:
Erin savored the exquisite pleasure of Connor's mouth on hers. The sensual slide of his hands on her back. The way he cradled her head to angle in for a deeper kiss that sent shivers skipping down her spine, and made her feel empty and wanting in her most intimate places.
And he didn't rush to the next step as if he had a plane to catch. In wonderment, she felt him hold back, explore, his eyes hot and dark and possessive as he groaned with pleasure at her own rising response. And he talked to her … whispering hot, sexy words in her ear, making her feel as if she were the most desirable woman he'd ever known, until she was nearly engulfed in white-hot desire, wanting more, needing more.
When he finally drove into her, everything inside her turned to a fire that consumed her, body and soul. “Connor,” she breathed.
And then an exquisite rush of pleasure swept her away.
Though the long contemporary has room for more development of the sexual side of the relationship, lovemaking is still not described in explicit language. Notice that though Rustand says the hero is whispering hot and sexy words, precisely what he says isn't included, and in this case body parts aren't named.
Short Contemporary
In The Desert Virgin, Sandra Marton shows her hero satisfying the heroine in alternative ways:
She tilted her chin up. Her lips parted. Her mouth clung to his and he felt his blood thunder in his ears.
“I'm going to bathe you now, Salome.”
… Gently, he lifted her from his lap and stood her between his legs. Then he reached for one of the washcloths stacked on the tub's ledge. …
“First your face,” he whispered. “And your throat.” She closed her eyes. … Slowly, he ran the cloth over her breasts. He felt her tremble. He was trembling, too, as he took the cloth lower, over her belly, lower, lower …
The cloth fell from his fingers. He bent his head, kissed her breasts as he slipped his hand between her thighs. She whimpered and his touch lingered, centered on that one forbidden place.
“That feels …” Her head fell back “That feels …”
“Does it?” His voice was raw. His body was on fire. “How does it feel, Salome?”
She sighed. He increased the friction. Warned himself that this was only for her. For her. Not for him. Not for —
Her cry rose into the night. Pleasure, fierce and elemental, rushed through him. He had done this. Given her this.
A feeling so deep, so intense it terrified him shot through his heart.
Quickly, he got to his feet. Lifted his golden dancer in his arms. Stepped from the tub with her clinging to his neck, with his mouth drinking from hers. Gently, he set her on her feet. Wrapped her in an enormous towel.
Then he kissed her again, lifted her again. Carried her from the bathroom to the bed, where he laid her down as carefully as if she were the most precious treasure in the universe.
“Don't leave me,” she whispered.
Never, he thought fiercely. He would never leave her again.
Short contemporary is the most explicit of the category romances, allowing more freedom of language and alternative forms of sexual expression. Most short contemporary romances include at least one episode of sexual intercourse and often involve oral sex as part of an extended love scene. This scene from Marton's book ends without the couple actually having intercourse, but they stop short not out of reluctance but because they don't have a condom.
Chick-Lit
The chick-lit heroine is one of the more liberated heroines in romance fiction, and she's just as sassy about sex as she is about everything else, as in this example from Claire Cross's Third Time Lucky:
He eased into me, hot and thick and hard, even as I tried to catch my breath. He held me against the wall with his hips as I got used to the size of him, then impatiently tugged my nightgown over my head and chucked it across the room.
He looked down at me and smiled, his admiration unmistakable. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “And don't let anyone tell you differently.”
“Lots to love,” I said, trying to make a joke.
Nick shook his head. “Perfect.” He cupped one of my breasts in his hand, meeting my gaze, his palm fitted exactly around me. “See?”…
I'm not too clear how things proceeded after that, save that it's true what they say — all things do come in threes.
>
Including me.
Note that, despite her smart mouth, this heroine is uneasy about her body and uncertain whether the hero can really be attracted to her — this level of self-esteem is typical of a chick-lit heroine.
Some chick-lit is even less explicit, with love scenes like this one from Sophie Kinsella's Confessions of a Shopaholic:
Last night was absolutely …
Well, let's just say it was …
Oh, come on. You don't need to know that. Anyway, can't you use your imagination? Of course you can.
By not giving details, the first-person narrator invites the readers to give rein to their own fantasies, which draws them further into the story.
Single Title
In The Kitchen Witch, Annette Blair shows a heroine who is liberated, experienced, and anything but passive, and a hero who's determined to make their lovemaking a special occasion:
“Oh,” she said, still focused on the nest of his arousal. “Just let me feel all that nice soft black cotton … and everything.” She stroked him through the briefs, took him from his cocoon and into her greedy hands, and turned him into her submissive slave. She handled him with gentle reverence, kneading and nuzzling with fingers and lips, growing him, breath by gasping breath, stroking him against her cheek, nibbling with her lips, until he got so close to coming, he took her down on top of him.
“So much for making it last,” he said as he slid into her, in one fast, incredible thrust. …
She came almost at once, making him slick, easing his heaving way. When he caught his breath, when they both did, he rolled her to her back, still inside her, and rose over her. “That's one,” he said.
“More,” she said arching, pulsing tight around him as if to help.
“Greedy,” he said, rising to the occasion and going for two, pretty certain that giving her as many orgasms as she wanted, before his turn came, would about kill him.
Though single title romance can veer fairly close to erotica, as in this example, it doesn't necessarily include any explicit lovemaking at all.
On Writing Romance Page 20