Your own best date: a guide to eating alone

Day Tripping

10 Steps To The Best Meal of Your Life

Taking myself out to dinner is now at the top of my “live like I’m on vacation” self-care list. It is a luxury I always enjoy and can do so effortlessly. There really isn’t a place I won’t dine alone, which opens up travel in so many ways. But I wasn’t always like this. Here is how I grew my confidence to be my own best date.

Step 1 – Know why you want to do this

A younger version of myself had fantasies of traveling the world, eating in exquisite restaurants, seeing art and culture. For a long time, a lack of travel companions kept me home while the need for travel got stronger and louder. Eventually, I realized, if I was going to travel, I might have to do it alone.

Step 2- Decide you are going to do it

If this is really far outside your comfort zone, pick a date in the future and make an appointment for yourself. You don’t have to pick a place or even time, (that will come next). But commit to it. If you are reading this today, great! You’ll be ready in no time.

Step 3 – Pick a spot

Do you have a spot in mind? In my early 20s, I lived as a poor bohemian graduate student but dreamt of eating a meal at a fancy restaurant I drove past daily. Three months out from my birthday I started saving my pennies, made a reservation and took myself out for one of the best meals of my life. Written on the wall, above the entrance was a quote I’ve come to paraphrase often.

When you meet your maker, you will be called to account for the experiences you didn’t enjoy, not the ones you did.

Don’t live with regrets! Maybe it isn’t a fancy place, but a breakfast or brunch spot you read about online, maybe a co-worker mentioned a lunch place a few towns over and you’d love to try it. Or maybe you don’t know what you want. Thrillest and Eater have great food sections you can filter and search by neighborhood or by food type. Yelp will help you see what others recommend.

Step 4 – Review the website, including the menu

There is nothing worse than getting to a place, sitting down and realizing you don’t like anything on the menu or that your budget doesn’t align to theirs. Review the menu in advance and pick at least one meal you can fall back on if you get overwhelmed easily.

Step 5 – Arrive as your most confident self

Prepare for this event as you’d prepare for a real date! Take time to primp and prep, use one of those fancy bath bombs you’ve been saving for a special occasion or break out the Sephora samples you’ve hoarded in the back of your drawer. Wear something that makes you feel great about yourself and you feel comfortable in.

Step 6 – Pick Your Seat

You have a few options when it comes to seating and all have advantages:

  • Sit at the bar – This is casual and can be social. If there is an open kitchen you can keep an eye on the most popular items while you review the menu.
  • Table for one – If there is a host, ask for a table for one, and smile at the end while looking them in the eye. You just told them you are confident and want a better table than they were going to take you to. You’re welcome!
  • Communal Table – This can be a great way to eat in a new city while traveling. Ask your tablemates where else you should try, see or do. If they share your taste in the food they will most likely share your other interests too.

Step 7 – Occupy yourself

I believe it is acceptable to have a phone, book, journal, even a computer with you, depending on the environment. Save something good you’ve been meaning to read, or a journal prompt you’ve been meaning to get to. This is your quality time, how do you want to spend it?

Step 8 – Enjoy the meal

Sit, linger, savor each bite and have a second drink or a cup of coffee. Unless you are someplace where the turn-over is expected to be quick — say The Café DuMonde in New Orleans with long wait lines, two things on the menu and fast-pace wait staff – you are in no obligation to eat fast and leave.

Step 9 – Tip your wait staff.

You know this right? 20%

Step 10 – Reflect

You did it! How did it go, would you do it again, where are you going next? My birthday dinner out all those years ago started a passion for culinary adventures. I’m already planning my next trip, how about you?

Apples, art and the smallest state capital; spend a day in Vermont

Day Tripping

Day trip: What to See, Eat, Do & Read

It is fall, and while the rest of you are drooling over pumpkin spice lattes, I’m savoring the memories of my last day trip. I love Vermont in any season, but fall in Vermont is spectacular.  When I get that travel urge, my fingers turn to my Kindle library, looking for a book to scratch the itch until I can plan a proper run-away.  Sarina Bowen’s first installment of the True North Series, Bittersweet, jumped out at me, and before I knew it I was traveling the backroads of Vermont with Audrey and Griffin, watching them fall in love over cider.  I needed more than the book to feed my travel bug.  I planned a perfect day trip through the area.  Take This Trip (Google Map | Instagram Hashtag | Audible)

See: An artist’s home

Shaw Memorial @ Saint-Gaudens NHP

Shaw Memorial, final version, Saint-Gaudens National Historical Park

Augustus Saint-Gaudin was a 19th-century American sculptor, most famously known for this sculpture of the men of the 54th Massachusetts Army regiment of the Civil War. His home and gardens in the Connecticut River Valley are a lovely and peaceful way to begin your adventure.  Be sure to see the Water Garden; I found sitting and listening to the water gurgle a great way to prepare myself for the day.

Eat: Bread Pudding

Did you work up an appetite walking the grounds? Enjoy the drive up through the foliage and make your way to Montpelier.  The smallest state capitol in the country, this tiny town is also home to the New England Culinary Institute, which means there is amazing food to choose from.  Stop at Kismet, a beautiful, woman-owned restaurant.  You will love the brunch menu.  Try the Carpaccio Benedict or the savory Bread Pudding made with bone marrow broth, onion confit, blue and cheddar cheese served with 2 poached eggs and greens.  It’s worth the drive alone!   If you have time, stroll the few downtown blocks and plan your restaurant visits for your next trip back; I know I have Asiana House on my list.

Kismet Farm To Table in Montpelier, Vermont

Do: Visit an orchard

Sabra and Sebastian are passionate about organic ciders and wines, and it shows throughout their orchard.  Nestled in the hills of the western side of the valley, you can tour the property and sample cider and wines as the sun sets.  I loved the Vermont Sparkling Hard Cyder but encourage you to try their still cyder as well.  (Feel free to ask them “Why the y!”)

Flag Hill Farm, Vershire, Vermont

Read: Bittersweet

Bowen’s first book in the True North series is set in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, amongst the majestic green mountains.  The book follows Audrey, a formerly spoiled brat from Boston on the road to redemption, which takes her through the dirt roads and orchards of Vermont into former flame Griffin’s front yard.  Griffin’s family’s hospitality overrides his instinct to push Audrey away.  With a farm full of young, funny adults and a kitchen filled with authentic farm-to-table food, cider and the occasional bottle of perry (pear cider), Bittersweet is the perfect book to read when you are craving a fall experience.

Bittersweet, the first novel in the True North Series by Sarina Bowen

Confession  

The Saint Gaudin’s estate is actually in New Hampshire, but right on the Vermont border near I-89 and I-91. It’s an easy start for a day trip from New York or Boston. 

Your next book binge

What to read next

Ready to binge?

Are you looking for a new-to-you author with a deep catalog? 
Are you ok with new settings? 
Will you squeal with delight when they all intersect? 
Excellent!

Hockey, seriously. 

Smart, complex women and men meet their matches on and off the ice.  
Start with the Ivy Years (1-5) and settle in for a trip through elite New England College Hockey.   

Next, onto Him and Us, the setting is still hockey and focuses one couple.

Go for the Stanley Cup with the Brooklyn Bruisers. 

Cider Season

More smart, complex women and men meet their matches on and around a Vermont orchard.

Feast on True North (6) A big farm family, award-winning cider, and sexy farmers.

You may even want a daytrip.

Why it works

Bowen maintains a consistency of voice.

She crafts rich dialog and familiar enough characters.

For her MM books, she explores what it means to be a hero when there is no heroine. 

She planed perfectly timed crossovers among the series that will make you cheer out loud. 

And make you want to re-read the whole thing from the beginning again.

Did you love it?

Tell me what you thought in the comments.
Tell me who I should read next.

Louisa’s First Kiss

Green Harbor

Louisa’s First Kiss is a YA story.  

Rolling a joint is much harder than I thought it would be. I was trying to balance a book on my lap and rolling papers and the weed I stole from my big brother. I locked myself in the bathroom, listening to every sound that could be my parents coming home early, or my brother realizing his bag was looking a little thin.

I looked at the pile of torn wrappers to my right. How was I so bad at this? I had an A in AP physics? I took another pass at the piles in front of me, trying to get all the stems out so they would stop ripping up the paper. My fingers felt fat and clumsy. This was a bad idea.

“This doesn’t look like the ones in the movies,” Lexi said as we sat on a log in the in the woods together. Lexi lived down the hall from me. She was pretty and smart. Each time we talked, I found myself volunteering things I had no business volunteering. Like the lumpy joint she was now holding. I went through an entire box of wrappers, finally managing to pull something together on the last one, just as my parents came home. I hid the joint in my pencil bag which I shoved deep inside my backpack. I kept the backpack between my legs for the hour-long drive back to boarding school. We needed to smoke this today; there was no way I was holding onto this any longer than I had to.

“Sorry.” I stammered. “My brother had them all pre-rolled, and I just grabbed one.” I lied.

“You go first.” I pulled out the lighter I stole from the Seven-Eleven where we stopped for gas; there was no way I could explain that purchase to my mother.

Lexi lit the tip, and a flame sparked up the paper tail. She pulled it away from her face, lifted one eyebrow to me, as if to question everything she knew about me, and then tried again. She coughed so loudly birds left their nests in trees. She passed the joint back to me, she was right, this was nothing like the movies. The flame was burning unevenly, running up one side of the joint. The paper was on fire, but the pot wasn’t really. There was a faint pink outline of where her lipstick had rubbed off. I held it to my lips and relit the tip. I took a slow, deep breath and held it in. I closed my eyes and held my breath for as long as I could. When I opened them, Lexi was looking at me. Her eyes were wide open, surprised that I wasn’t coughing like she was. I slowly exhaled.

“Do you feel different? I don’t think I feel different yet.” She said. I was feeling different. I was feeling strong and confident. I handed the joint back to her, watching her lift it to her lips. She took a tiny breath and coughed again.

“Give it back to me. I’ve got an idea.” I took the joint back, took a deep inhale, and before I could hold it in, I leaned into Lexi. My hand went behind her head, my fingers sliding in at to the curly mass of brown hair at the base of her neck. I brought my lips to hers. I could feel her pink lipstick, soft and shiny, press into my lips as she relaxed opened her mouth and let me blow the smoke into her directly. When my lungs were empty, I let go of her head, I pulled back my hand and leaned away from her.

Lexi exhaled quickly, coughing, but not nearly as bad as before. I took another drag as I watched her. Lexi closed her eyes and leaned back on the log she was sitting on. I could see that she was starting to feel what I was feeling. The pressure of being a straight A student at a competitive all-girls boarding school lifted off of us.

“Do that again.” She said, breaking me out of my bubble.

“Happily,” I repeated the steps, the inhale, holding the smoke, my hand to the back of her neck, my lips on hers. Just as I was about to pull back, Lexi’s hand rose to meet my cheek. She pulled her head back while holding mine in place. She exhaled and then, she leaned back into me. Her pink lips were on mine again, this time she was kissing me. Gently at first, her hand firm on my cheek. I let her explore, her lips moving to my cheek and my neck. After putting in all the effort to get here, I surrendered to her and let her take charge, my body relaxing until I heard sounds in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” I whispered between kisses.

“Shh.” She replied, her lips moving back to mine.

“No, listen” Suddenly the sounds grew louder, like an army marching through the forest. And then I saw it; the cross-country team came running down the trail we had sneaked off. We both froze.

“I got to go,” Lexi said, jumping up. “I can’t be caught out here, doing this, with you.” As if this was all my idea. As if I kissed her first. Lexi was running through the woods now, and I was still on the log. I relit the joint and finished it before the cross-country team came back around, but not before realizing I really liked kissing girls.

Seagulls

Green Harbor, Uncategorized

Seagulls is a short story set in the Green Harbor universe. It can be read as stand-alone story.  It features two sexy men, instalove and lobster rolls.

Caw Caw Caw!
Jeffrey hated the seagulls. He remembered not to look up as they circled his lobster roll. Seagulls ranked near the top of things he hated about growing up in Green Harbor. The dampness and the winters were close behind. But here he was, sitting with his mother on a dock on a warm sunny day in July, sharing the pleasure of eating lobster rolls dripping with cannabis butter. His shitty, little home town had transformation into a luxury resort town centered on cannabis tourism.
“Ignore the gulls, Jeffrey, enjoy the roll. Betty swears by them. Did I tell you she’s got me going to yoga? There is a wonderful young man who teaches there; I think she said he’s famous? Anyway, we stretch and laugh, and at the end, everyone farts.”
“I’m eating, mom.” Jeffrey choked on his bite and looked at his mother, horrified. He cleared his throat and was whipping his eye when he noticed a speck of something falling beyond his mother’s head.
“Oh no,” he said, standing up and grabbing some napkins. His hands were just a second shy to catch a big splat of birdshit landing on the forehead of the sexiest man he had ever seen. Jeffrey’s napkin-clad hand reached to clean up the damage.
“They got ya.” Jeffrey said, trying to act casual as if he cleaned bird poop off devilishly handsome men’s heads’ regularly.
“Those fuckers got me good, and I dropped my lobster roll.” The sexy stranger returned, his low voice rattling Jeffrey’s knees. Jeffrey had to look away from staring into his deep amber eyes. Were those specks of blue? He was about to step back to focus on breathing when the stranger put his hand on Jeffrey’s arm. His warm grip tight on Jeffrey’s skin, a current of electricity passing through them. The man was smiling at him, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m Parker. Thanks for coming to my rescue. I was looking up, I’ve never seen seagulls before, and I thought they were magnificent. But now I’m not so sure. Do you know where I can clean up?”
Jeffrey looked around the waterfront, found a men’s room behind the lobster roll food truck, and motioned for Parker to follow him. Jeffrey quickly turned back to his mother, who winked at him as the pair wandered off.
~
“I didn’t even get to finish my lobster roll,” Parker said, walking out of the men’s room, all cleaned up.
“Do you want another one? We can go back. Or, like, I’m sure you have something important to do.” Was Jeffrey stammering, Parker wondered as they walked back out onto Water Street.
“I have plenty of time, and I want to see the town. But you, you probably have something to get back to?” Parker hedged, guessing that a hot man eating a lobster roll with his mother on a Sunday afternoon was not a man who had a family to get back to.
“Downtown or nature?” Jeffrey asked,
“Downtown.”
“Food or Fun first?” Jeffrey said, pausing to look in a storefront window. “Huh, this used to be an art studio.” Jeffrey looked closer, the store front was now an apartment, but there was a painting in the window, facing out.
“I was there when this was painted, or at least this bit up here on the right.” Parker stepped closer, looking over Jeffrey’s shoulder. The painter had captured the view from the other side of harbor, north and out to sea. A small storm has cleared, the light shining from a setting sun to the northwest,. The area Jeffrey pointed to was the ocean, with yachts that looked like confetti, sprinkling the horizon. Parker watched Jeffery get lost in a memory.
“Rodney was the first gay person I came out to.” Jeffrey said. “His partner was the painter and while we talked, Albert stood just inside that window and painted that corner.” Jeffrey had kept talking, but Parker had stopped listening, he was so focused on watching Jeffrey standing there on the street, lost in a memory. Parker stepped in behind him and placed comforting hands on Jeffrey’s shoulder. Jeffrey turned around, and Parker watched a tear roll down his face.
“This is a happy tear, I swear. He was so kind to me, and I totally forgot all about him until this moment.” Jeffrey tried to laugh, a second tear running from the corner of his eye. Parker reached his thumb up to wipe the tear, and as his hand grazed the length of Jeffrey’s face, his thumb got caught on Jeffrey’s upper lip. Parker stepped in closer, the only sound his own heart beating. Jeffrey’s eyes looked up into Parker’s. Parker felt Jeffrey’s lips, smooth and warmed from the sun. Parker parted his and slid his tongue out, passing Jeffrey’s on the way. His hands went to Jeffrey’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, not daring to let this connection end.
“Young men, we don’t mind you kissing, but please don’t block the sidewalk.”
~
“So sorry,” Jeffrey said, backing up. “Mrs. Gould? Parker, this is Mrs. Gould, my old next-door neighbor and this is Parker, um…” Jeffrey didn’t know how to continue, this was a man I just met, and I’m now making out with?
“Hello Jeffrey, your mother said you would be coming back.” Mrs. Gould said, continuing to walk ahead of them. “Good to see you.”
Jeffrey watched Mrs. Gould power-walk down Water Street, bobbing around the resort guests. He looked back at Parker.
“Wow,” Jeffrey said, “Let’s keep walking and see what else in town makes me cry.” Parker laughed, patted Jeffrey on the back and continued to walk with him.
The two spent the next several hours exploring a Green Harbor Jeffrey could never have imagined growing up. They joined people taking a paint, puff and pass class, painting a still life with clams. They played in an arcade, spent an hour in the karaoke club and laughed and kissed the afternoon away.
“Pretty crazy here,” Parker said as they settled back down on the dock where they met, chancing fate one more time with two lobster rolls.
“These are amazing; Today was the perfect day.”
“Well, aside from the bird,” Jeffrey replied.
“No way, that bird was how we met, that will be the story we tell the grandchildren,” Parker said, intending to be funny, but the shock of it reverberated through him as he watched his life unfold in a series of snapshots, him and Jeffrey slow dancing in the moonlight, kids, grandkids. Parker shook himself; he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he wasn’t sure if he believed in love. He was expecting to see panic on Jeffrey’s eyes but was met with a smile.
“I love you.” Jeffrey paused. “Almost as much as I love these lobster rolls.” He took another bite and smiled. Parker relaxed and accepted the assist, finishing off his roll.
~
Jeffrey settled back into the bench. He reached his arm up and back, resting it first on the bench until Parker snuggled into him and Jeffrey relaxed his arm over Parker’s shoulder.
“I never asked, what brings you back to Green Harbor?” Parker asked. Jeffrey tensed up, hoping to avoid this conversation.
“My mom. She runs a hair salon in town, but she wants to retire, and she is worried about the other old ladies, like Mrs. Gould, who depend on her.”
“Oh.” Parker got quiet, and Jeffrey could feel Parker pulling away until he was standing in front of him. Jeffrey looked up, confused.
“Um, I shouldn’t be here, with you.” Parker turned to walk away.
“Wait, I don’t understand. A minute ago, we were joking about having grandchildren together, and now you are walking away?” Jeffrey reached for Parker’s hand, not letting him go.
“You don’t get it. I’m here to take over that salon. I am supposed to start next week, but I wanted to get here early and find out where I’m living.”
“You are going to take over an old lady salon?” Jeffrey asked.
“No, I’m going to take over a thriving resort salon that just happens to have a local older clientele.”
Jeffrey shook his head, staring down at his feet. He hadn’t been into his mom’s salon in years. Even on this visit he’d just gone to her home. She didn’t say a thing about the expansion.
“We are talking about the same salon?”
“The only one in town, I made sure of it before I agreed to the job.”
“I have to go and find my mother,” Jeffrey said, dropping Parker’s hand. “You are right; you shouldn’t be here. You can go back to wherever you came from because I am not giving up my mom’s salon.” Jeffrey said, his anger rising both at his mother for setting him up and at Parker for turning him on.
~
“Honey, I knew you wouldn’t want to move back here.” Jeffrey’s mom said, patting his knee as he sat in the same spot he used to watch Saturday morning cartoons. “You hated it here. But I wanted you to see how much this town has changed me. Plus does a mother need an excuse to have her son come visit her?”
“No Mom, but I don’t like being played.”
“I didn’t play you. Well, maybe a little. But I’m done working, and I can afford to retire, and I want to have some fun in my life. This Parker is a good stylist, he’ll do fine for the resort clients, but I worry about Mrs. Gould and the other village elders; will Parker be good to them?”
Jeffrey stopped shaking his knee and reached forward for the cup of tea his mom always made him when he was frustrated about something in Green Harbor, whether it was the kids in school or the teachers who didn’t get him. Peppermint tea from her garden always calmed his nerves. He hadn’t been back in Green Harbor for 24 hours, and already he was drinking the tea.
“Tell me about your day with him. Was he nice?” Jeffrey’s mom reached into her knitting bag and resumed work on a sock she was working on.
“He was very nice. It was the perfect day. We played like resort guests and danced and sang and ate lobster rolls. But then we sort of broke up when I realized he was here for my salon.”
“It isn’t your salon, Jeffrey. It could have been, it could still be, but right now, it is my salon.” Jeffrey’s mother seldom took such a tone with him, but when she did, in moments like these, he knew not to push back.
“You are right, sorry Mom. It’s just that, I’ve never felt like this with a guy before. I wasn’t trying to be somebody he would like. I was myself, and he liked me. But I thought he was a tourist and that he’d go away, and I’d go away and that we’d have today, but then everything got complicated. I’m going away, but he’ll be here. In the salon where I grew up. I’ll never get over him.” Jeffrey said, laughing and putting his face in his cupped hands.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Jeffrey got up, walking across his mother’s small living room. He peeked through the hole and saw Parker on the other side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Jeffrey opened the door.
“Hi, can I come in?” Parker asked, stepping forward as Jeffrey opened the door.
“Hello, Mrs. Fredrick, lovely to finally meet you in person. You never mentioned your son,” Parker said.
“I know, but now you two have met. If you aren’t here to see me, young man, I’ll be leaving you two for a bit, Betty’s been trying to get me to catch the 4:20 yoga with her.” Jeffrey’s mom passed Parker on the way out.
“Can we walk? I’m not sure I can have this conversation in the room I played hot wheels in.” Jeffrey said, ushering Parker out and back toward the downtown. They wandered in silence for a while, walking past the tourists to the Adirondack chairs lining the shore.
“Jeffrey, I don’t know about you, but today was one of the best days of my life. Being with you felt exhilarating and natural at the same time. I feel like I’ve known you all my life, and I can’t wait to spend my life getting to know you. I can’t explain it, but I can’t let you walk away. Am I crazy or did you feel it too?”
Jeffrey looked out at the ocean, at the seagulls he hated and the water that is everywhere, he thought about the winters, with the nights and slush puddles, and then he imagined his life knowing that Parker was in Green Harbor but he wasn’t. Even thinking it caused his heart to ache. He looked into Parker’s eyes, he leaned in and kissed him, lingering slowly before pulling back.
“How about we try working together, how about we try seeing where this goes?” Jeffrey said, smiling into Parker, their foreheads resting on each other.
“Really? But you hate it here?”
“This isn’t the Green Harbor I grew up in, this town has come back to life, and the people here are happy, just maybe I can be happy here too,” Jeffrey said,
“See, that stupid seagull brought us together. Good bird.” Parker said as he leaned in and kissed Jeffrey back.

Writing across the rabbit holes

Uncategorized

As I am sure is true in sci-fi and horror, the romance genre ability to subdivide at times feels like one of those bio films of watching bacteria grow.  Fast and oddly connected.  Successful authors can cross imaginary lines and take their audience with them into new and fascinating corners of the card catalog.  Successful authors know their craft.  They understand how to use character’s voices to drive clear motivation away from instant resolutions.  As craftspeople, they know how to craft worlds that somehow seem familiar but all-together new, with enough subject matter expertise to always be authentic.         

Sarina Bowen broke out into the Romance genre with a series called the Ivy Years, set on and off the ice for a college hockey dynasty.  She followed that up with the Him –her first mm romance, the setting is still hockey, but it is a new team and a new cast of characters to fall for through the next several books.  In her next series, she sprinkled in players from the Ivy Years as we watch the Brooklyn Bruisers on their path to the Stanley Cup. 

For many of Bowen’s loyal and new readers, Him was their first MM romance.  This was a leap of faith for them into a wholly unknown territory.  Bowen had an established history of having smart characters fall in love by talking to each other.  For Him Bowen maintained a consistency of voice to craft rich dialog and familiar enough characters, but broke from the expected and explored the idea of what it means to be a hero when there is no heroine. 

Her more recent series shift away from sports entirely and into apple cider and beer making.  (There is a narrow Venn diagram of readable works about romance and alcohol.)  Bowen needed to move readers with her.  One way she did that was to use her world to create emotion — the moment before the buzzer blows, feeling the stick pulling back, making impact and watching the puck miss the net is not that different from the perfect clarity of a fall evening on a hill in Vermont, overlooking the sun setting into the mountains to the west, eyes drawn to the back of a pickup as a lover driving away.

As I think about my own writing, I will need to keep developing a consistency of voice that can hold my universe together while still allowing me to branch out.  I long for the finesse of world building in service to the central conflict.  I’ll be paying attention to these elements as I continue to revise and write. Tagged Hockey, MF, MM, Romance, Vice

Patience and Optimism

Uncategorized

Ever since I hate read Harriet the Spy in fourth grade, I’ve been perfectly ok with walking away from books that don’t bring me joy.  I’ll give a book a paragraph, a page or even a chapter, but I strongly believe that when you read for pleasure, that time should be pleasurable.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that while I will walk away from one-offs, I am much more willing to work through a first book if there is an already established series.   In many ways, the first book in a series is like a pilot television show, an early promise to introduce the cast and set, leave you with a taste of the world you will enter with them, there are no expectations that characters are fully fleshed out, that dialog is always on point, or that that the seemingly random interactions make sense to a larger narrative arc.  

This was a lesson I learned with Lorelai James, a best selling romance writer.  I started Rough Riders with the first book, Long Hard Ride.  The concept was forced, the heroine the literary equivalent of a paper-cutout, the intimate relationships were hot but odd.  It is likely that James, who had been writing mysteries under another pen name, began Rough Riders as a test to see if she could switch genres.  Whatever challenges plagued the narrative arc were more than made up for by James’s tone and writing style.  Cowboy romance novels were not a sub-genre I’d dipped into before, but James was able to pull me in and surround me with rodeo culture without ever making me feel like the newcomer helped pave the way for my continued investment.

Lorelai James (author) Long Hard Ride (book) handsome white cowboy on cover, shirt open.

First in the Rough Rider Series

Book two took an unlikely turn with two main love stories,  one featuring a mature heroine and hero, and the other the young brother of our hero from Long Hard Ride.  In Rode Hard James begins to find her balance between storytelling and sex scenes while writing stronger, more complicated and complex leading ladies.   Book three, Cowgirl Up and Ride, brings us to Sundance, Wyoming where the remainder of the 17 novels are set and James picks up her pace in terms of building out a universe with complicated family lines, land disputes and plenty of single people looking for love.

The formula of the cowboy hero can withstand only so much variation.  Characters have to be young, handsome, strong from spending the day lifting bales of hay or hours in the saddle and James doesn’t stray far from the mold.  James uses her heroines to bring diversity to the universe.  We don’t see the same type of mold for the women of Rough Riders. Each woman is unique and her struggles for independence and autonomy provide the consistent narrative arch against which she must find a love worthy of her.   Our hero must then find a way to let down the tough guise exterior and make himself vulnerable enough to be loved. 

Good Read reviewers would have you believe that the series really pivots on book three, but of the series, that turned out to be my least favorite couple.  Again, knowing there was more to the series allowed me to push on and stick with James and I was rewarded with Tied Up, Tide Down and what remains my favorite of the series, Rough, Raw and Ready –one of a handful of MMF romances that are worthy of being novels and not half-baked erotic stories.  

From there on in, James continues to use a consistent voice, variations on a character theme, and distinctly relevant conflicts to create a world of characters that will remain among my favorite in the literary world.  But I wouldn’t have gotten there without a bit of patience and optimism, fuelled by James’s wonderful writing style and a deep back catalog for me to work my way through.

Tagged Cowyboys, MF, MMF, Romance, Series