Okay, so I get it. I’m being asked to delve into the darkest heart of my psyche and reveal to you the one thing that gets my engine revving, no matter what…
It doesn’t exist.
Come on…that’s like asking a foodie what’s the one dish he or she’d eat no matter the circumstances. I bet that no matter how much you love lobster, spaghetti marinara or whatever, if it’s burnt, bastardized in some weird way or just plain unpalatable You. Will. Not. Finish. It.
The reality is, I like sex. I like reading about sex. I like writing about people having hot, smexy encounters. I enjoy reading about all KINDS of sex, as long as it’s written well. No matter what the scenario, if it’s done with grace, finesse and a heaping helping of jalapeno-hot hotness, I’m in.
If I’m picking at the editing (or lack thereof), wondering how the freakin’ freaky-deak the woman’s leg is in that position without her snapping in two, or flipping back to figure out if the hero was wearing two pairs of pants…you’ve lost me. And I don’t care if it’s a threesome on a tightrope over the Grand Canyon, if I yawn, even once, it’s all over.
Okay, so maybe I’m just crabby, but it would be easier for me to tell you what I DON’T like to read than pick one favorite act or arc I find bulletproof. So make it hot. Make it sexy. Make me wanna push the heroine (or one of the heroes) off the hood of that car and get it on with the other participant, and I’m all in. Suck me in (no pun intended!) and I’m as happy as a woman with two hung husbands.
I’m all yours…