Can I Get Some Reality In My Romance?

Welcome author J.D. Brown! We are celebrating the new release of her second book, Trace of Passion.


Movies, TV shows, and fiction are entertaining because they stretch reality. We're willing to suspend belief for a while to go on an adventure in a place where magic can happen, where the hero always gets the girl, where true, unconditional love exists.

Wikipedia calls Love at First Sight "one of the most powerful tropes in Western fiction". Its popularity spans the ages, back to Classical Greek and Roman poetry.

How many of you believe in love at first sight in real life? Or in soul mates? You might like to think it's possible. You might even know someone who seemed to find true love with the first person they ever dated. I know a couple people like that. My uncle proposed to his wife on their second date. One of my close friends from high school married a boy she met in kindergarten. They remained close through the years despite him moving to a different country with his family when he was young. They got married soon after she graduated and have four beautiful daughters now. And my uncle? He and my aunt are still together.

So I know it's possible. And I know we all love to believe it can be possible for us too, even if only in a book.

But how realistic is it, really, for two strangers to meet and fall instantly, deeply, and unconditionally in love to the point that they would sacrifice themselves without question for the others' happiness? We don't really think about it because fans of romance want to read about that kind of devotion. But in truth, most of you probably put aside some amount of believability to allow yourself to be satisfied by the hero and heroine's passion. Because really, you could think "Oh my god, that is so FAKE. Real men don't act like THAT. If this was a reality show, he'd probably only be dating her for her money." But we don't think like that when we read a romance. Instead we think "Awww! I wish men really did THAT, that is so sweet!"

Like the movie Titanic. Woman watched that movie over and over when it first came out and it was all because of Leo's character. Meanwhile, our boyfriends and husbands wished ill things on the movie's producer.

In real life, most of us experience "lust" at first sight, which sometimes then grows into passion. But it's almost never perfect. It's almost always difficult. Sometimes it ends badly. Few times it ends really well. Authors are often told to write what we know, to write believable stories with believable characters and believable motivation. Which is what prompted this post. As a romance writer, I have a difficult time making two strangers fall in love. I don't think it's believable. It's definitely not very realistic. And I refuse to write a story that I don't believe in. So, I make my characters work on their relationship.
And you know what? It works for me. It's like the novel The Notebook. Allie rejects Noah over and over until he is forced to trick her into going out with him. Allie didn't instantly love Noah. He had to work for his chance with her, and their relationship grew from there. Noah's character scores points with the audience for being so deliciously clever in his attempts. We even like it when Noah and Allie fight because it's real.


In my first erotic romance story, A Trace of Love, I poke fun at my own beliefs in romance. Trace Curtis, the hero, is convinced his feelings for Ophelia are true, but she doesn’t think it’s possible after only one night. The story ends with Trace and his band leaving for their next gig and Ophelia’s missed out on a second shot at love.

In the newly released sequel, A Trace of Passion, Trace is back in town and demands an explanation from the only woman to ever reject him. What he thinks was payback is actually the cover for a darker truth and neither Trace nor Ophelia are sure their love for one another can survive Ophelia’s reality.

And now for a special treat! Excerpt from A Trace of Passion (book 2)

Warning: Contains some spoilers from book 1, and contains some light graphic content.

Trace exited the bathroom smelling of mouth rinse. He had the decency to put his jeans on before he sat on the couch. God, please put your shirt on too before I do something stupid. She wanted to ask why he slept on her couch, but she knew questions would only prolong his stay and lead to trouble.

Trace nodded at her mug. “Aren’t you going to offer me some coffee?”

“No.”

“That’s not very hospitable. I carried you up two flights of stairs and stayed on your couch to make sure you didn’t have a concussion or choke on your own vomit.”

Ophelia narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t vomit.”

“But you could have.”

“Get out of my apartment, Trace.”

“Well now you’re just being rude.”

She pressed her fingers to her temple and sipped the coffee. This cannot be happening.

“Trace, I don’t have time, I have to go to work in an hour.”

“So go to work,” he shrugged. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t…you can’t…don’t you have band practice or something you have to do?”

He grinned and leaned back while spreading his arms over the back of the couch. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

Ophelia gulped the last sip of coffee while weighing her options. She moved to the breakfast bar near the mounted telephone and slammed the cup against the counter. “All right, I get it.

You’re pissed that I gave you a fake phone number last year. But if you don’t take a hint and leave now, I’ll call the cops, Trace. I’m not kidding.”

He stood and cocked his brow. “And tell them what, exactly? That I helped you into bed after you passed out drunk? That I stayed on the couch to make sure you’d be okay?”

She bit her lip and glanced at the floor. “Trace, you’re seriously freaking me out.”

“All I want, Ophelia, are answers. Honest answers.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them way and tried to draw up courage that wasn’t there. “Jesus Christ, do you ask every woman why they slept with you?”

Trace pursed his lips. He sat on the edge of the couch and ran all ten fingers through his hair.

She saw the agitated wrinkle in his brow before the black curls fell over his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to scare you, okay? I only wanted to confront you last night. Call you a bitch or something like that,” he scoffed. “But now I feel like a dick. I owe you an apology, Ophelia. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings when you asked me to the Sadie Hawkins’s Day dance.”

Ophelia raised her brow. “The…the what?”

“You know, the dance you asked me to. I shouldn’t have told you to grow a pair of breasts in front of the whole cafeteria. But damn it Ophelia, you didn’t have to rip my heart out.”

“Wait,” she stood there blinking. She remembered that day and was pretty sure he had used the word tits. It stung, but when she thought about Trace, she always remembered the good things. His smile or the little tunes he played at lunch despite the rule against musical instruments being in the cafeteria. “Trace…that was eleven years ago. You really think I’m the type to hold a grudge over something so juvenile?”

Trace wet his lips. “You mean you weren’t trying to get revenge for that?”

“No. Jesus!”

“Then…why did you sleep with me?”

Ophelia rolled her eyes. This was tiring. “Trace, I think your melodramatic song lyrics went to your head. It was just a one-night screw. As for why I did it, I don’t know, maybe just because you’re you. You’re…you know…famous and rich and incredibly sexy.” And why am I inflating his already huge ego? “Why do my reasons have to be any different from any other woman’s?”

“Because…because I fell in love with you that night. That’s never happened before.” He glanced at her. “Believe me, I know what a screw feels like and that was not just a screw.” He stood and Ophelia couldn’t help but watch his torso muscles flex in the movement. “And I don’t think it was just sex for you either because you wouldn’t have run away.” She swallowed hard as he slowly stepped toward her. “You wouldn’t have given me a fake number and gone through so much trouble to avoid me last night.” He took two more steps. Her hand slid across the counter looking for anything to hold on to. The closer he came the dizzier she got. “You wouldn’t have been mad to see me on your couch this morning.” He whispered as he stepped up to her, his nose mere inches from hers. Ophelia gasped, her hand landing on the phone. She clutched it to her chest. He pried it from her grip and tossed it on the couch behind them. “You are mad because you love me too.” His hands rose to cup her face. “What I can’t figure out, Ophelia, is why you’re so afraid to admit you love me.”

His lips pressed hot against hers. She tried to resist, but her body defied her. Her back arched off the wall, pushing her breast against the planes of his chest as his hands came around her waist. She couldn’t lie to herself; she missed the feel of him, the heat of his skin burning trails wherever they touched. And yes, she thought of him every single day for the past eleven months, twenty-four days, six hours and elven minutes. Still, she had hoped to fool Trace. What were they doing? If he thought she had ripped his heart out last year, repeating the experience would truly crush him.

She whimpered between him and the wall. “Trace…”

His whole body pressed against hers, his breath hot against her cheek. “Don’t say anything and for God’s sake, don’t fight me anymore, Ophelia.” He sealed her lips with his and gripped her tighter around the waist. She cursed under her breath as her body melted against him. Her hands flew around his neck and tangled in his black curls. Her eyes closed tight as their tongues glided against each other in furious passion.

So not fair, Danielle. Whew! This book sounds hot and I can't wait to read more about Trace and Ophelia. No. She shouldn't fight him anymore.


Sharon

Author Bio
Danielle Ravencraft graduated from the International Academy of Design and Technology with a Bachelor Degree in Fine Arts. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her two Pomeranians. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, her writing is influenced by the multicultural urban society of her youth which she continues to visit each summer. Danielle enjoys writing sensual romance exclusively for a female audience. She also writes mainstream paranormal romance and urban fantasy under the nameJ. D. Brown.
Contact Danielle Ravencraft vial email at danielle_ravencraft@yahoo.com
You can also follow Danielle Ravencraft around the web via:

• FaceBook Profile
• Twitter Profile
• Ravencraft’s Romance Realm (Blog)
• MuseItHOT Publishing
• MuseItHOT Blog

Order Trace of Love here.

Order Trace of Passion here.

Welcome Author Danielle Ravencraft

I am thrilled to introduce you to one of my best writing buds, Danielle Ravencraft. We have been exchanging emails and posts now for well over a year, through multiple blogs, crisscrossing on our way to fame and fortune! She got the call in January, and hasn't looked back since. I know you will enjoy getting to know her, and reading her work.


Welcome to my world, Danielle. What genres do you write and why? Anything interesting about how you got started?


I write erotic romance with a healthy dose of drama. I got my start in this genre because of a dream I had about two lovers, Ophelia and Trace, and the quarrel between them. Before that dream, I had never written anything erotic. I'm usually one for urban fantasy and YA romance. But that dream kept bugging and eventually I caved and wrote it. My beta readers loved it and encouraged me to get it published, so I perused it. It turned out to be my fist acceptance. J

No wonder. I want one of those dreams. Do you like writing in series, or single?


Every story I write ends up being a series, haha. As a reader, I've always loved series and chronicles. I'd get so addicted to them. Writing a series is a different matter. I love it, but it presents many more challenges than a stand-alone novel does. There's a lot more to plan and you have to be on top of your game to make sure your characters and your world stays consistent through each book. It can be down-right hard at times.

Very smart indeed. Series is where it's at. Tell us about what you did to get "the call."


By “the call”, I assume you mean the acceptance letter. J  I didn't do anything special other than write something outside my normal genre at the time. I'm very glad I did. I think it's the smartest move I've made since I started writing. Otherwise I might still be struggling with my urban fantasy. Instead, the same publisher who took my erotic romance also loved my urban fantasy manuscript!


Very smart indeed. You wrote something that was of your heart. Your editor got it. Who is your favorite character you've created? Why?


Gosh, I really love all my characters. We're all best friends. And they are all so different in their strengths and weaknesses. Trace and Ophelia are at the front of my thoughts right now since I've been working on continuing their story for the past few weeks. They really are a cute couple.


Oh good. We get more! Do you find it easier to write the bad boys or the good boys? I'm assuming both are heroic, but which ones are more fun to write?


Definitely the bad boys are more fun. Sometimes I stop mid-sentence and laugh at something they just said or did - or gasp. They make writing more fun. But the good boys can be fun too, just in a more secretive way. *wink* 


I'm with you. Bad boys are so fun to write. Love finding out how good they are under that shell. What about the heroines? Do you find it easiest to write the bad girls or the good girls?


The good girls are easier for me to write because I am a (mostly) good girl so it's harder to get into the mindset of a bad girl character. I really like strong, witty or quirky female leads with a touch of sarcasm that makes you laugh. Yeah, I might have just described myself as well…


I'd have to agree with you there, Danielle. We'd get into some trouble if we lived any closer. If you could have a date with one of your characters, which one would it be and why? Where would you go?


Trace would take me to the field museum in Chicago followed by a few drinks and dinner at some really expensive restaurant in the city.  


And then? tee hee. If you could go to a desert island with two companions, who would you bring? What would you do there? What would you bring if you could bring anything?


I would bring my beta readers, Charlene and Anastasia. I'd bring an endless supply of margaritas for me and Charlene and a truck-load of Pepsi for Anastasia, and we'd call it a vacation.


LOL. Here I thought you might put Jimmy Thomas in your suitcase too, but I can see you guys would have tons of fun. Pretend you have just sold your 100,000th copy of one of your books. What will you do to celebrate?


Well, that depends on fast they sell. LOL. Probably dinner with my friends and family or something to that extent.


Tell us something about you that most people wouldn't know or guess about you?


I'm a closet nerd. I like gaming and anime and wearing Victorian costumes, but I'm in denial about it. LOL.


Your secret is safe with me. Who are your favorite authors/books?


I love Anne Rice and Orson Scott Card, but I read a ton and my “current obsession” is always changing. The best recent book I've read was “First Grave on the Right” by Darynda Jones. I'm really looking forward to the sequel, “Second Grave on the Left”.


Ohh. Two of my favorites too. Darynda is so funny. Her style does remind me of your writing, IMHO. What are you working on now?


I recently finished writing the sequel to “A Trace of Love”. The sequel is called “A Trace of Passion”. I'm plotting the third installment, titled “A Trace of Hope”. I'm also plotting a new novella that is a paranormal erotic romance called “Orion”. 


Can't wait to read them all. So now for the fun stuff. Please give us a tease, an excerpt:

Excerpt for “A Trace of Love”

Ophelia sat in her favorite spot in the entire world; the little bar in the very back of The House of Blues. Usually The House of Blues featured local bands; everything from Soul to Bluegrass. She couldn't say why she loved it there. It wasn't the music or the booze or the way reality seemed to evaporate in the dim lighting. But it was, nonetheless, her heaven. 

Today was one of those rare occasions when the venue starred an international band, which meant The House of Blues was packed to the brim. The concert ended and the throngs of fans made their way to the exit. The bartender winked and handed her another beer. He knew Ophelia by name and always let her linger until they locked up. 

Ophelia blinked as the lights brightened. Plastic cups, spilled beverages, straws, napkins, glow sticks, promotional fliers and the occasional bra littered the floor. A smile inched across her lips. Molten Silk put on a good show. 

Other than the bartender, bouncer, stage crew and broom boy, The House of Blues was empty and eerily silent. The guys worked quickly, ignoring Ophelia as she nursed the last sip of her drink. The worst part of the day approached; the part where she would have to go home to an empty apartment. 

Laughter broke the silence as five men walked out on stage, holding bottles of something alcoholic.


“Oi! Is the bar still open?” one of them shouted. The bartender nodded. “Bring us a round over here, mate!”


Ophelia ducked her head, watching the men from the corner of her eye. They were Molten Silk, the band. They looked different in normal lighting, like regular people in ridiculous Goth costumes, but she was positive it was really them. Heat rushed to her face and she looked away. 

“I'm goin' for a smoke,” said an unmistakable voice. Ophelia didn't want to turn around
and stare, but she couldn't help peeking over her shoulder. Trace Curtis, the lead singer, headed for the door with a cigarette bobbing between his lips, lighter ready in his hand. She held her breath as he passed by, just inches behind her. She knew him back when he was Mathew Curtis, the heart-throb teen that played guitar for the lunch ladies. She didn't know why Mathew changed his name after his debut album went platinum. 

Trace paused at the door. He turned around and glanced at Ophelia. She looked away, hoping he didn't notice her staring. It's not like it matters, she thought. He's just going to keep right on walking out the door. 

“Do I know you?” 

Ophelia jumped. She turned and came face to face with Trace Curtis. A small bout of panic took her mind. Should she tell him they went to high school together? She doubted it would help. They were just as much strangers in high school as they were in adulthood and it would be best to keep it that way. She shook her head. 

He leaned against the bar counter. “Are you sure?” 

Ophelia smiled. “I think I would remember if we met before.” 

Trace wet his lips. “Have a drink with me?” 

She looked at her empty beer bottle. What harm could another beer do? “Sure.” 

Grinning, Trace snapped his fingers and ordered two more beers. He took a seat and looked Ophelia over, letting his eyes linger just long enough to make her blush. “I could swear I've seen you before.” 


She shrugged. “Maybe you have. I come here every weekend.” But Trace didn't look convinced. 


“Oi, Trace! We're going bar hopping, mate! Come on.” 

Well, that's the end of that, thought Ophelia. 

But Trace didn't move, except to wave his band mates away. “You guys go ahead; I'll meet you back at the hotel later.” 

The guys made cat-calls aimed at Ophelia, her cheeks burned scarlet. 

“Sorry about them,” Trace mumbled, scowling at his friends as they left. He reached for his beer at the same time Ophelia reached for hers. A tiny shock of static passed between their fingers. Ophelia jumped and glanced at Trace. He scoffed and then moved his fingers so they glided over hers. His skin was warm and callused from years of playing guitar. His pale blue eyes studied her face. 

Ophelia bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. Oh, Mathew, you're still just as smooth as ever; touching my hand, but keeping your gaze above my neckline. As if she didn't know what he was after. 

Trace removed his hand and cleared his throat. “So, are you from around here?” 

She shrugged, trying not to burst into giggles. “Close enough.” 

He glanced away, looking first at the stage and then at the door. Ophelia winced. He was probably getting bored and wished he'd joined his friends. She shouldn't have felt hurt. She shouldn't have cared if he left. He was just one guy. But at the same time, he wasn't. He was Mathew, her old high school crush. And she expected him to be the same cocky dick. But he wasn't. He was standing next to her shuffling his feet and blushing at the awkward silence like an average Joe. 

At the same time, Trace and Ophelia mumbled what they both thought. “You want to get out of here?” 

They blinked at each other and Trace chuckled, his voice as lovely and carefree as a child's. Ophelia laughed and felt herself relax, instantly at ease in Trace's company.

Danielle Ravencraft / Erotic Romance Author Website ~ Blog ~ Ravencraft Romance ~ Ravencraft Realm ~ Urban Stars ~ The Wicked Writers

THANK YOU, Danielle. It has been a pleasure having you today. I hope everyone goes out and gets this amazing book from a new author who is one to watch. I'm so proud to consider you my friend.