I think all avid romance readers remember the first romance they ever read, that one special book that started her (or his) love affair with love stories. I certainly remember my first time . . .
Growing up, my mother never censored my reading material. She loves to tell the story of how I first proved to her that I could read. (I was self taught, apparently.) I picked up her Cosmo magazine and started to read to her. Cosmo wasn’t as racy as it is now, but it sure wasn’t Ladies Home Journal.
However, my mother never was one to read romances. Jackie Collins, yes, romances, no. So I was never really exposed to romances until one day, in the grocery store, I saw it. My First Romance.
It was Fortune’s Fool by Angela Wells, a Harlequin romance. Honestly, I was only nine, and I was only interested because it had a horse on the cover. But, man, did I get lucky with that choice. It had all the great romance tropes.
Overbearing super alpha (Latin) male: check!
Virginal, convent raised, easily fainting heroine: check!
Kidnapping and forced marriage to the hero: check!
Not one, but two big misunderstandings: check!
Heroine is reunited with the lost family that loves her immediately: check!
Happily ever after: check!
How could I not become a romance junkie after this? I’d just reading a heaping helping of every guilty pleasure that a romance could serve up.
It’s for sale on Amazon, and I’m really tempted to buy it for old time’s sake . . .
