Valentine’s Day is a holiday seemingly tailor-made for romance novels. Love is in the air; hearts and flowers are everywhere—talk about a mood. But, after 30+ years of marriage, I must admit that Valentine’s Day hits a little differently. This year for the occasion I bought my hubby his favorite candy bar (Zero bar) and he gave me a card and cooked my favorite meal.

I’ve received flowers in the past but, honestly, what a waste of money! How long are those cut flowers going to last? Throw away $100? No, thank you. (My opinion may be jaded by being raised as a really poor person).

My husband, a practical fellow (an engineer in the telecommunications industry), feels the same way. He’s brought home flowers a few times, but it was an experience neither of us could fully enjoy for the wastefulness of it. That doesn’t make us unromantic.

After all, romance is my jam – I write romance novels. Hubby doesn’t read them but that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive. When my first book, HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BARON, came out, he brought signed copies with him to his golf league and sold them to his friends for their wives. He made my first sale and proudly framed the $10 bill for me to keep. When book two, ABOUT AN EARL, came out, hubby was my biggest cheerleader. He always took a few signed books along on his business trips and passed out swag to promote my website. As he and I anxiously await the publication of book three, LAST LORD STANDING, he is out there once again reminding people to check out my website and Amazon page while handing out branded pens and magnets.

Last week, after a brief visit to Detroit, he mentioned that someone was interested in my books, but they had a question he didn’t know how to answer. The question was “closed door or open door?” My poor hubby had no idea what that meant. I told him I write open-door romance and then had to explain it.

Guys. OMG. The look on his face. Poor baby had no idea. After a few minutes, as his practical mind digested this new information, he asked me if the books sold in stores were allowed to be open-door. Yes, I assured him, they can be open-door with fully choreographed sex scenes. “You mean they’re right out in the open on the shelves?”

Um, yes? Where else would they be? It was like he thought there was a sooper-sekrit champagne room in the back where these books were sold. It’s a good thing I love him.

If you’d like a little more romance in your life, read a romance novel. Start with my ‘What Happens in the Ballroom’ series to discover the drama behind the dancing.