As Bran and Ava’s story continues, the flames are burning several degrees hotter than in Siren’s Wave. Strangely, this seems to be happening beyond my control, and it’s got me thinking about the frequency and detail of sex scenes in contemporary romance novels and at what point it becomes a bore-fest or crosses over into the realms of erotica? Not that there’s anything wrong with erotica. If you’re into it—enjoy—I say.
Personally, rather than endure a blow-by-blow account, I like my imagination to get a good workout. Too many ginormous, clever appendages thrusting at quivering, slippery slopes start me yawning and skipping pages, hunting for the next bit of plot action. The real emotion. Or the heavy feels, as we like to say in romance land.
So, in book 2 I have a fairly hot scene in chapter 3. Good God, I hear you cry. In book 1, after our reluctant lovers finally got it on the main event pretty much happened off screen. Well, for their first session at least. How cruel of me!
Right now, this extra intensity between the sheets feels a vital energy that needs to burn a little wild, like their current relationship. And, yet, I don’t want to be overly descriptive and curb readers’ imaginations with surplus stage directions. Have I got the balance right? I’m not sure yet. At some point, Bran and Ava will likely tell me.
How much sex is good for you in a love story? If you dare, comment below, or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and tell me if you like the heat in your books turned up, down, or set to a steady simmer?