My love of romance began as a young teenager with a subscription to Harlequin Romance. I remember being so excited when that familiar rectangular box came in the mail. I couldn’t wait to peel the tab and see the exotic adventures in store for me.
I’d admire each cover, read the back blurb and the inside excerpt, and then came the big decision- which one first. 🙂
From Margaret Way to Janet Dailey, Anne Mather to Violet Winspear, these authors taught me to have high expectations when it came to love and happily-ever-afters.
The heroes were always strong, often taciturn, men who protected those under their care with a fierce devotion. And when they fell in love… it was magic.
I swore I would never settle for second best. I was convinced when I found the man of my dreams the stars would shine brighter, there’d be dancing in the streets, bands playing our song- well, you get the idea.
I wanted the fantasy.
We met on DH’s eighteen birthday and corny as it may sound, we knew.
There was a huge gathering at a mutual friend’s place celebrating the end of school and when I turned around, there he was. We clicked right away. He spent the night making me laugh, and we ended up talking until dawn.
The next day I went through the “Is he going to call? Why hasn’t he called?” most of my shift at the cafe (the same one we bought many years later, coincidentally) and then he walked in and my heart pounded.
That’s when I knew this wasn’t a simple affair. I was already committed. It scared me, but it was also exhilarating.
Two years later, on June 16, 1984, we were married.
It’s been a tumultuous thirty-two years, but I wouldn’t change a single moment. He is, and always will be, my very best friend, my lover, my soul mate.
Happy anniversary, babe.
I love you more,
Love isn’t something that you find
Love is something that finds you.