Today, an agent was sitting in my office and she admitted she'd never really read romance, but she was really happy to try. So I handed her an advance reading copy of Rachel Gibson's TRUE LOVE AND OTHER DISASTERS and promised her that she'd be hooked--and quickly.
Rachel is up for the Rita Award this year. Of course, I always think that she should win, but I'm allowed to be biased. What I love about her books is that she makes it work--without vampires, without zombies or shape shifters or men who suddenly sprout wings whenever they want to have sex.
I guess, for the sake of genre solidarity, I shouldn't be admitting this, but I've made no secret that the paranormal isn't for me. (Though it's working very well. And I do believe in whatever floats your boat...) Still, personally, I don't want to feel that I'm going to have my blood stolen from me in the middle of the night, and I prefer that the men I'm interested in have the usual working parts.
The hero of TRUE LOVE is an ice hockey player, which might be as other-worldly for some of us as, say, a feral creature. But, as a teenager, I loved ice hockey. It was the heyday of the "hockey-player-as-cute era," which lasted about five years, way back when. Here's a commercial to prove it, or, at least, prove that SOMEONE believed it. Get ready!