Harlequin Romance Books Rule

Recently on Facebook I made friends with Yvette Rousseau. She was a niece by marriage, although I still consider her a niece even though her Aunt and I are no longer married. That's not what this is about anyway. In the 70's & 80's we (our family) vacationed each summer in Northern Michigan at Dana Lake. It was the cabin of my wife's parents. It was a neat place, no resorts nearby, no neighbors to speak of, but plenty of fresh air, sunshine, and woods to walk in.

On a number of occasions we were treated to visits by my sister-in-law Kathy and her children Yvette, Yvonne and Josette. Yvette and Yvonne were conceived in France. Yvette and Yvonne were my oldest daughter's age, and Josette and my daughter Jenny were about the same age. So my kids had ready made pals.

As my oldest daughter, Kristi, entered those pre-teen years when a girls thoughts begin to think of romance Harlequin Romance books entered the scene. She devoured them. I have no idea how many she had but it seemed like hundreds. The favorite pastime of Kristi, Yvette and Yvonne when they were together at Dana was to read novels. From time to time I would sneak up on them and grab one of the books and holding high in the air I would proceed to read aloud the reverent passages. "Lance looked at Sophie with that deep soulful look of undying love. The wind blew softly through the pines, and made Sophie's hair swirl like a cloud about her rich full lips." This shit really meant something. Anyway, the girls would jump all over me trying to get the book back and I would hold it high our of reach. At first it was quite a scene and the girls would be embarrassed to have these deep thoughts blurted out, especially by their Dad/Uncle.

As with many things I over did it one time and reduced my daughter to tears of frustration. But for a while it was fun and the shrieking and laughter carried across the lake I am sure. Probably into the well turned ears of Sophie who turned her heart shaped faced and listened with those lush red, full lips pursed in concern.

Whenever I see Kristi, Yvette and Yvonne we end up talking about those times. They aren't nearly as funny now as they were then, but the bond was made and their Uncle/Dad was a scoundrel, a cad of the first measure. I miss those days.