Everything I Know About Love I Learned From Romance Novels Read Online Free Page A

ourselves. Would you want to read a three-hundred-page novel about some woman who beat herself up constantly for being those extra few pounds overweight and having the wrong shoes? Maybe, like many of us, she does that every once in awhile, but characters worth reading about eventually conclude that they are awesome as they are, and don’t need to put themselves through abusive crap like that every time they get dressed.
    Everyone has their kickass outfit, the clothing that fits and flatters and makes the wearer feel invincible and, well, kickass. A romance heroine arrives at that feeling more and more often, particularly if she begins the story feeling poorly about herself, because feeling kickass is the first step to a long day of awesome. Reading that type of self-discovery teaches clearly and openly that women are valuable and awesome.
    Romance is found in how we treat ourselves.
    So how do romances teach the value of knowing yourself and your worth? Well, just reading one is an act in and of itself that demonstrates that you care about yourself. If you’re like me, there’s hardly a moment in your day when you’re not doing six things simultaneously. If you’re reading, then you’re likely doing just that one, indulgent thing.
    Indulging yourself is a very, very noble task. Don’t stop doing that. You’re giving yourself a break, an escape, and a moment of relaxation—and if you’ve noticed the workaholic, wired culture many of us live in, that cessation of constant action is a true respite.
    Not only are you indulging yourself, but you’re indulging yourself with, literally, happiness. You’re reading a reminder that problems work out, challenges become easier, mysteries get solved, and everyone involved can live happily ever after. There is absolute value in reminding yourself that happiness is a worthwhile endeavor.
    Harlequin, which publishes over a hundred romances each month, can tell you (and me, actually) a great deal about the value of romance for its readership. Harlequin has an entire corporate division dedicated to researching its customer base, and they host focus groups where they ask readers to explain why romance is valuable to them—and not just Harlequin romance, but romance in general.
    Reading a romance novel is indulging yourself in happiness.
    Janet Finlay, head of research for Harlequin, says that in each focus group, much to her continued surprise, there are always women who can remember with great and vivid detail the first romance they ever read. She says that listening to women share details about the first romance they read is much like listening to someone share a story about a truly special moment in her life. Readers can remember details of that first romance, even if it was over thirty years prior.
    She’s totally right. I have long had a similar theory that romance fans do not ever forget that first romance novel, especially if they enjoyed it. For example, the first romance I read was Catherine Coulter’s
Midsummer Magic.
I read it in 1991. I can still remember where I found it (in the public library), how I found it (petty larceny), and who introduced me to romance (a high school classmate—I stole the book from her while she went to the ladies’ room, checked it out of the library, and left before she returned to her seat). I can tell you details about that book as well, not only because there are some crazy over-the-top moments but because that book made a tremendous impression on me. It was not just the story of two very headstrong (I believe the word “mule-headed” was used by both parties) people learning to accept one another, but the absolutely insane lengths the heroine, Frances, goes to to avoid marrying the hero. She goes from Hot Scottish Lassie to Butt-Ugly, Judgmental, Slightly Rumpled, Possibly Smelly, and Definitely Nearsighted Dowd—and he marries her anyway, precisely because he thinks she really is all of those things. Imagine his surprise when a