A.G. Starling
I live with my dog, Suttree, in Monterey, California, where I am a college professor. I am an ardent reader of the author who designed the flawless blueprint for the romance novel—Jane Austen, and an avid sports fan.
I think the competitive spirit between two athletes is a perfect frame for a contemporary romance. Think about the steamy tension that would arise if an athlete was hot for his or her opponent.
This occurred to me after watching a handsome hunky professional tennis player call for the trainer and receive a massage on the court during a match. I was at the gym at the time and it was a good thing because running on the treadmill gave me some excuse for my blushing face (other than the obvious one, of course). Those trainer's hands moving up those muscular thighs was sexy. I really felt as though I ought to have been in the privacy of my own bedroom watching it. I couldn't help but feel the two men working out on either side of me felt the same. When we glanced over at each other, we all quickly looked away as though embarrassed at having caught each other in the act! Well lo and behold, talking to one of my girlfriends later that day, I discovered she had the same reaction watching that massage! Then we noticed people discussing it online! And again, all with the same reaction. SEXY! HOT! STEAMY!
That's when it occurred to me, suppose this tennis player had been playing a mixed doubles match. What might his female opponent on the other side of the net be feeling? Then it occurred to me. Why not a story in which hero and heroine are not only both athletes but competing against each other in the same sport? Now that would create explosive sexual tension...the perfect romance.
I like strong heroines. Women with pluck, spirit and wit, like our beloved Elizabeth Bennet. When I think of a contemporary Lizzie, I think one could not do better than the 2012 Olympic female athletes one looks up to – Jennings and Treanor, Gabby Douglas, Missy Franklin, etc. They would be a match for any hero. I don't know about you, but I would like to see such a heroine give her hero as good as she gets.
“[Lizzie Bennington to a reporter who has asked for her opinion about Jack Archer's celebrated thighs.] “When you come back from a set down and bring the match to a final set tiebreak and are a point away from winning the match, only to have what looks like an extremely fit player call a time out because of a cramp and then watch that player sit back and casually converse and laugh while you do your best to keep your mental focus and your body moving so you don’t grow cold and cramp yourself, I hardly think you’d concern yourself with his burgeoning manhood, let alone his thighs!”
“Well, with that filly in my line of vision blushing like a virgin, something in me was bound to stand at attention. And my walking legs were occupied.”