Romance novels

I just started one of Jo Beverley's books (Skylark). So far, she's the only romance novelist whom I've enjoyed consistently. I'm a crotchety, cynical, practical thing (as are, to my delight, many of her heroines) but I'm also a closet romantic. I love reading about emotional humans, human relationships, and soft, squooshy, broken people. I like to giggle and sigh while reading in bed.

This is the third book of Beverley's that I've read, and I'm starting to figure out what makes me like them. Most of the heroines have something else at stake in their lives beyond the need for love. In Skylark, the hero isn't even brought up until the third chapter. The heroine in Skylark also beautifully fits my definition of squooshy and broken. In those first three chapters--heck, in the first chapter, I get the picture of a heroine ready to be unfolded. The hints of her potentially uncontrolled lust, her readiness for new love, her need for an ally in her life. I'm excited for when she'll unfurl from worried widow and mother into a windblown romance heroine. The romance isn't all out there at once. So many authors rub my nose in the puddle of sugary piss that just dribbled down the heroine's leg on the first page when she saw her burly man.

Though I know Beverley has enough books out there to fill my occasional urges for romance, I'd like to broaden out. So, I made a little more effort to look at the romance novels in the grocery store's meager book section last night. I just read the first page, and didn't check the back. No luck, so far.

So far, I've been hooked by the first page of each of her books, so I think I can use that as a reliable indicator.

First snow!

At first, the snow was the finest, driest powder I've ever seen around here. It whipped across the streets in thin lines and fanned out over the drifts. It's not sticky like our snow usually is. There was only the black street and the moving crescents of snow. Walking through it was sweet and surreal.

A mystery solved

The "N" key on my laptop was mysteriously fading. Not only that, it looked scraped away. Tonight, I realize why. I always hit the N squarely with my fingernail. Of course, this doesn't explain why my M or C key isn't equally worn. Maybe my N is still just defective.