Monday’s Friend: Rhonda Lee Carver
How do I give my hero and heroine chemistry?
Let’s face the fact; it isn’t just the love that puts the kaboom factor in a romance novel. It’s something far more electric and dangerous…Chemistry.
I love the word Chemistry. It conjures up images of exploding concoctions and exploration—two things that work well in romance novels. If a reader sat down with a novel and opened page 1 to find hero meets heroine, and on page 15 they like each other, and by page 100 they love one another, and not had one argument—blah. One, reality doesn’t work this way, and although a romance novel is fictional, a reader does want to relate—at least on some level. Life has ups and downs, especially in relationships. And two, readers who pick up a romance novel want lots of heat and steam and passion—hence the term romance. And where do the heat and steam and passion derive from?
I know, I know…Conflict.
By the way, I love this word, too. To a writer, it means giving the hero and heroine something to hate about each other. Come on, there must be one thing you hate about the person you love. Just sayin…
Yea, hate may be too strong a word, but seriously, conflict breeds passion. The more passionate one is, the deeper the emotion. Next time you’re reading, pay special attention to the rate of your heartbeat during the hero and heroine’s argument, as well the intimate moments.
There is nothing more sensual and raw than two people who are in the midst of verbally thrashing one another and the hero wrenches the heroine into his strong, muscular arms and kisses the sassiness right out of her. Breathless and mesmerized, what was the argument about anyway?
In life, couples argue. They make up…sometimes. They love and fall out of love. And sometimes it lasts forever. But when you have chemistry with another person, it sets a whole new level on intimacy and draw. Chemistry is not something that you fall out of. It’s an unseen force that connects one to another, and nourishes passion. For those who have experienced chemistry with another, than you’ll understand completely.
Here is an excerpt from Rhonda’s latest book SECOND CHANCE COWBOY:
Carly squeezed her hands into fists. “My poor husband. How difficult it is for him to manage his inflated ego and keep his zipper closed.”
“We’re divorced, remember?” His voice reeked of sarcasm.
She groaned in irritation. Her pulse pounded in her ears like the beating of a drum. Her claws were showing.
Chance didn’t blink an eye as he gazed at her across the room.
“Honey, I can keep my pants zipped just fine. Problem is, you can’t keep your fingers off my zipper.”
Carly’s palm itched to slap him. “We live in a small town, Chance. How do you think it’s possible we haven’t run into each other more than three times in the last two years?” She cocked her chin. “Let me fill you in. I’ve done everything in my power to keep from bumping into you. Do you realize how difficult it is to plan my schedule weeks in advance so I don’t have to see you? Is that a description of a woman who can’t keep her fingers off your zipper?”
“No, more like a woman who’s afraid she’ll forget what screwed up our marriage in the first place, realize she’s made a huge mistake and get her ass back home.”
“Humph, fat chance that’ll ever happen.” She fumbled with the sheet in irritation and gave her hair a toss over one shoulder.
Damn, he did have a point, although she’d never admit it to him.
“Yeah, right, Carly, because you can’t ever forgive and forget, can you? You think you’re the only one who has lost, don’t you?” His eyes became steely pools of green. His voice turned low and controlled. “I lost Devon, too. He was my son–our son. How long are you going to keep blaming me for his death?”
Carly swallowed the painful lump in her constricted throat. “I don’t blame you.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“We both know why I left.”
“We do?” His bitter laugh split the air with its razor-sharp intensity. “I know you want to hold on to the belief that I am the bad guy who drove you away, but isn’t it time you took half the responsibility for the failure of our marriage?” A trace of compassion softened his expression. He tugged on his shirt and finger-combed his hair.
“It wasn’t my fault you cheated.” Once she said it, she wanted to yank the words back. Too late, just like their relationship.
“You’re a broken record, sweetheart. It’s not worth denying the accusation any longer. Maybe eventually you’ll believe your words and feel justified in leaving. Devon died, Carly. He’s gone and we can’t change the truth. One of us needed to make the decision to let him go and I made it. I held out hope you’d eventually find a sliver of forgiveness in your cold heart. I guess I was wrong.”
The old wound broke open and her lungs emptied of oxygen. She wanted to lash out at him, tell him to go to hell, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom. When I get back I want you gone.”
“Carly, you’ve become an expert at sucking all the joy out of your life and pushing away anyone who reaches out to you. You’re living in a self-made prison, founded on guilt and pain, and there is no key to unlock the cell door.”
SECOND CHANCE COWBOY is available to buy from Lyrical Press.