The Fate of Racing To You

I’ve been putting off writing this post for a long time. But I figure readers are entitled to know the story, even if it is a sad one. 

My first book that came out last summer 2016, Racing To You, was on the market for a total of eight months, before my publisher went out of business.

To say I was sad would be putting it lightly. I had already finished writing the sequel when I found out. Continue reading The Fate of Racing To You

The Merits of Happily-Ever-After

If you ask any romance reader what they love most about their genre, most will say it’s the happily ever after (or HEA, as it’s lovingly referred to). It’s the defining characteristic of what makes a romance a romance. It’s the number one requirement for romances novels entered in Romance Writer of America writing contests: “the resolution of the romance must be emotionally satisfying and optimistic.” Continue reading The Merits of Happily-Ever-After

A Case for Romance

What do you do when the genre you write is commonly referred to as trash? Not just by non-readers, but by the key audience demographic as well? The romance genre, dominated by a female readership whose novels most often involve sex, would have to be referred to as trash in a culture still affronted and embarrassed by any mention of feminine sexuality, right? Continue reading A Case for Romance

Since I can’t afford a trip to France…

(First appeared on Lois Winston’s blog.) Going to France costs so much money. I didn’t realize how lucky I was to go there and study there during graduate school. And now I’m a writer, what better way to travel back, without buying the plane ticket, than to write a novel set in France?

I want to be transported on the pages of a book. To go to the south of France, to smell the pastries in the patisserie, to feel the breeze off the Mediterranean, to watch the seas of the Côte d’Azur sparkle in the sun, and listen to the French language spoken wherever I go.

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But even when traveling in person, it’s not always as perfect as one hopes. My first view of the Mediterranean as a student was on an overcast rainy day, and I was decidedly disenchanted. Without the sun, the water was as gray as any river and the rain reminded me so much of home, I wanted to cry. How could this be France? It was miserable, and no one should ever be miserable in France, right?

That wasn’t the only trouble. I left home thinking my French was stellar. I’d studied for years and spent weeks brushing up, but I never counted on how difficult it would be to understand native speakers. I could barely converse with the locals.
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Travelling alone, managing the European transit system without anyone’s help—it scared me. I never knew how much I depended on having loved ones and friends nearby until I was in a strange country with everyone I knew across an ocean.

The good news though, I had plenty of time to learn and experience. It wasn’t a vacation where I had to go home in three days. I had weeks. The sky eventually cleared and when the sun came out… the sea was so blue, it was blinding, and the sun so bright I could feel it warming me from the inside out. I learned to navigate the town, found my favorite places, and studied how to converse with the local people.

It became as idyllic as I imagined, even though, just like any good story with a well-earned happy ending, it wasn’t easy at first. But the good stuff was all the sweeter when it happened. It made me a braver, stronger person and showed me I was more independent than I ever thought I could be.

Writing Racing To You was as cathartic as I’d hoped. I will go back to France someday. But I learned what I miss isn’t just the place, but the amazing things the journey taught me about myself.

It’s a sexy excerpt from Racing To You!

From Chapter Eleven of Racing To You, Aurelia follows the too smooth talking Terrence to a victory party after he wins a race. She ends up outside on a cold night and gets far warmer than she planned…

His hand circles my back in warm strokes, and I inhale the calm it soothes into me.
Goosebumps scatter across my skin. He’s so close now; if I turn my head, I’ll be looking at his mouth. My breath rushes in my ears and my lungs expand in my chest. I want to inhale and hold him inside me. I hadn’t remembered how nice it is to sit with a guy.
He’s warm.
He nuzzles my ear. “Sit back with me.”
I stiffen.
He whispers, “I’m too tired to be anything but a gentleman. You’re cold, let me warm you up.”
I’m not cold. I’m nervous, not about him, about my reactions to him. So far I’ve sat here and let him touch me through my coat. I have yet to participate, really. If I give in to him, I might fall all the way. If I lie back with him, I might never want to get up.
“I’ll probably fall asleep in a minute. I’m so tired.” His forehead droops on my shoulder.
He is tired. He’s harmless.
He nudges me back; I go with him.
My heart runs laps in my chest, and I’m certain the whole world can hear it beating. I keep my back to him. I’m too nervous to face him. He snakes an arm around my middle and pulls me against his chest.
Relief entwines me, and any thought of getting away from him dissipates. My neck softens with my shoulders on the cushion, and I can only feel him hold me.

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My eyes close, and my breathing slows. When he stills for a minute, and his breath comes heavy in my hair, I think he’s fallen asleep.
He opens his hand and presses his palm flat on my belly, his fingers grasping my side through my coat. Air hiccups in my lungs. His hand says he wants me, his fingers say he can’t get enough of me. I like it. I want to be wanted.
“So soft,” he whispers, and his other hand moves my hair from my neck.
His mouth is so close. If I turn my head a little, I could taste him.
I rotate my head and he’s there, closer than I thought. His lips are on my cheek; the hand that was on my belly tilts my chin toward him. I let him.
He kisses me.
His lips aren’t just soft, they’re silken. I once put a rose petal to mine when it had fallen fresh off a flower. His lips feel like that. And I think of the flowers that he threw to me this afternoon. I long for him to throw more at me.
More.
Turning all of me to face him, I beg for it with my fingers on his neck. His tongue answers me and slides between my lips. I moan and taste him back.
I’m moving against him, pushing my chest into his. I’m no longer thinking, I shouldn’t.
I’m only thinking, I want.

from Racing To You by Robin Lovett

Meeting my editor Carrie Bradshaw style…or almost.

I get my deal with SMP Swerve and not only am I screaming but apparently–my editor wants to meet me. And get this she works in the Flatiron building in Manhattan. Legit, legit, wow. See me swoon. I’m a train ride away from the city. I rarely go anymore, but I love going and have always had these fantasies of, “See me go to NYC to visit my fancy editor. Mm.” My agent’s like, “Alla Carrie Bradshaw?” I’m like, “Y-yeah!”

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Except…it was a little more like this…

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It’s raining the morning of, so knowing I’d be doing a lot of walking, I do the unthinkable and wear…boots. And not like rain boots, leather zip up boots. And of course, it doesn’t rain a drop all day, and I’m the only person in all of Manhattan not wearing sandals and I’m cursed with hot sweaty feet all day.

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Then I’m wicked early, like over an hour because I was afraid of the trains running late. And I stand at the subway map like a tourist cuz I have no idea where to go. And…this is the kicker…the table the restaurant puts me at was so far in the back, my editor didn’t even see me when she arrived. We were both in the restaurant for twenty minutes before I got up and realized she was at another table. Right.

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BUT! Good news is, from there everything with my meeting Alexandra Sehulster went swimming. We love romance writers and are enamored with the community as much as we are with the books. We are equally in love with dark, stalking, sexy anti-heroes who walk the delicious line between evil and redeemable. She’s going to send me book titles for her favorite anti-hero stories (!), and I just might convince her to get on Twitter (she couldn’t even remember her handle 🙁

She asked very shyly if I’d written anymore of the book. I very shyly said yes, if slowly. There was hardly any business about the meeting which was lovely. We talked about how we came to our careers and chit chatted in the way girls do on a get-to-know-you.

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All in all a great success. I even got to meet up with the wonderful Alexis Daria and dream up some fabulous plans we have brewing with Kim Bell and Chelsea Polk for #RWChat.

Ok, now I have to quit stalling with Sexy and the City GIFs and actually get back to writing that book my editor is expecting.

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