I’m usually very careful with my more blatant shots of romance. You know, a little goes a long way, especially in the m/m world. Too much of it and it overwhelms the literary stew. The flavors and the unique tastes of each of the other ingredients can’t be compromised by such a strong spice or everything becomes a gooey mish-mash of daisies and cupids and hearts drawn on foggy windows… Honestly, not one of my men would be caught dead in such a fluffy pink casserole.
Don’t get me wrong. Fluffy pink casseroles have their places… just not usually in the mouths of alpha males.
Personally, I like to imbibe my meal with romance in a more roundabout way. You know, in the staging. If we continue with the culinary allusions (and heck who doesn’t love a good culinary allusion?), I guess you’d say that I like to pick out a nice romantic pot for my men and their juices to stew in. I try to come up with situations that when two strong testosterone-filled characters are put in them they have no choice but to bubble up into delicious love. That way all their manliness is still there for us to nibble on, to swirl around in our mouths and massage with our tongues…
Sorry. Culinary allusion was quickly slipping into naughtiness. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?...
Chapter Five: Gentle Obscenity
“As one low, slow song bled away into the next, the men silently stared into each other’s eyes as if searching out and finding their place in the other’s soul.” (page 79)
Yes, I do believe the mid-September Monday is a little more digestible with a helping of pink fluffy casserole. See? Not even Chloe Stowe can resist the taste of pure romance every once in a while.
On your way out today, please grab a flute of chilled champagne. Enjoy those tiny bubbles everyone and make your Monday merry!