HEA — My Drug of Choice
The first romance I ever read was a gothic – Menfreya in the Morning by Victoria Holt. I was in 8th grade, and didn’t realize at the time that gothic romance was a genre. I just thought Victoria Holt was awesome, and read all of her books that I could get my hands on.
I didn’t read the quintessential romance, Pride and Prejudice, until after I graduated from college, and then almost by accident – I was visiting my cousin in Indianapolis and pulled the Holy Grail of Romance off her bookshelf because I had nothing to do while she was at work other than read (and try to keep the crazy landlady from soaking the inside of the apartment when she hosed down her aluminum siding every day). Again, no clue about the genre. I just thought Austen was fabulous and read all her books.
At that time – pre-Kindle, and heck, pre-Amazon – I spent most of my reading hours switching between science fiction, fantasy, and mystery, until I got a Regency hankering and re-read P & P and the entire Heyer Regency oeuvre in alternating waves.
I should have gotten a glimmer of a clue, however — even then, regardless of what point I was at in my Circle of Literary Life, the stories that got the most re-read traction always had a romantic subplot or at the very least romantic elements. My craving for the HEA dopamine hit had already begun, and like any addict, I wanted my fix.
Then came Kindle and free books and Smart Bitches, Trashy Books bundles and holy crap! An epiphany!
Let the binge reading re-commence.
All of the romances – whether M/F or M/M, contemporary or historical, paranormal or romantic comedy – deliver that same rush on the downhill slide into happily-ever-after.
This post originally appeared at See Jane Publish, when the Janes confessed how we became addicted to the romance genre.