Not a lot of people know that I am a hopeless romantic. I believe that true love exists. I believe that true love may never be forced. I believe that true love comes naturally.
Despite knowing that I do believe in true love and romance, I am one of those that do not dabble into reading historical romances. It irritates me to read of women who wait for a knight in shining armor, a prince, or a handsome rogue that will sweep them of their feet and take all their worries away. In my head, those things are so unrealistic. Such stories basically suggesting that a woman can never be truly happy if they do not have a man in their life.
When a friend of mine, unsolicitedly, lent me a book entitled “Whitney, My Love” by Judith McNaught. I cringed and said, ” I don’t read romance novels”. To which she replied, “Humor me and read this one.” The book has been with me for almost some time now and I’ve been putting off reading it. But, earlier today I’ve decided to read it and on page 17 the heroine says “I cannot abide a heroine who is too perfect, nor one who is forever swooning.” Hmmm… I found myself in the heroine and thought I just might enjoy reading this.
So, here I am, about to call it a night after reaching page 172 of the book. I’m thinking, “maybe I am a romance reader after all.”