Feeling sexy begins in the brain. Not feeling sexy also begins in the brain. Love and attraction start with sights and sounds and scents that all affect—you guessed it—the brain. When we first meet our prospective mate our pheromones like his pheromones, our respective chemicals spike and our neurotransmitters start snap, crackle and popping. We’ve got mutual attraction and infatuation, and yes, maybe even love. As the song says—Let’s Fall in Love. And eventually fall into bed.
After all, if he’s our soul mate—if it really is love—he’ll give us a screaming orgasm (not the drink, he’s not a bartender) with the wave of his magic wand. What if that’s not the case though? The scene is set with candlelight and rose petals, soft music and a glowing fire. He’s doing everything right. Our potential soul mate is handsome, sexy and funny. He’s polite when he ought to be, and a brute when the need arises, kicking ass and taking names. He works hard, plays hard, loves hard. He’s not perfect. No. More like flawed to perfection. What’s the problem then? He must not be our soul mate if we’re stuck on that ledge of desire with no way down. If he’s Mr. Right then why can’t we close the deal? If this were a romance novel, our one true love would make us splinter into a thousand slivers of red hot ecstasy, right?
But this is real life. Real life is messy and complicated and leaves dirty laundry on the bathroom floor. Real life likes starch in his collar and Ketchup on his scrambled eggs. He sings the wrong words to the right songs. And sometimes he aims for excellence in the bedroom, but falls short through no fault of his own. No, romance novels are not like real life.
Or are they? Welcome to the premise of my July Quickie release from Ellora’s Cave: Passion Pill.
Millie has a big problem. She’s never experienced the big O before, even with a doting boyfriend who loves her like crazy. If she can’t be Tom’s partner in every way—emotionally, spiritually and physically—Millie resigns herself to setting him free to find the total package. But then a last chance comes in the form of a little pink pill.
Tom’s wary about Millie taking drugs to enhance her libido, but he wants her to experience every sensation mind-blowing sex can deliver. Soon the passion pills take them on a wild ride, but they both know that sooner or later the drug trial will end and the pills will stop coming. Perhaps Millie will, too.
I know erotic romance is supposed to be about the fantasy. The story is meant to take us out of our reality and sweep us away to an imaginary world of six-pack abs and buns of steel. A magical place where orgasms are powerful and plentiful (FYI, there will be orgasms and they will be powerful and plentiful). Is real life just too real for a romance novel? What do you think?
Kelli Scott, a former airline employee, spent her career globetrotting the world, leaving broken hearts and empty champagne flutes in every port. Turning over a new leaf, she started her own now defunct religion, also revolving around champagne. Currently a recluse living on a mountaintop in the Appalachians, she enjoys rock gardening, taxidermy and writing her semi-autobiographical memoirs.