As writers of romance, we are expected to focus on the love
shown between our hero and heroine. Whether we write steamy, explicit scenes or
sweet, off-screen love scenes, they are expected to take place and to
demonstrate the feelings our main characters have for each other.
But our hero and heroine are not the only ones who make up
our story. Sure, they’re the focus, but they have to interact with other
people. Maybe it’s a best friend or a sibling or even a child; they don’t live
in a vacuum and they can’t be three dimensional characters without the village
that surrounds them. Think of it this way: how boring would YOU be if you never
talked to or interacted with anyone but one other person?
The relationships our hero and heroine have with other
people are another way to demonstrate love and help provide context for the romantic
relationships they’re capable of having. They also provide a way for the writer
to reveal hints about upcoming events or reasons for why the hero or heroine act
the way they do.
For example, in A Heart of Little Faith, my hero is fairly
prickly and at times, unlikeable. But he shows a completely different side of
himself with a child:
Her sobs snapped Gideon out of
his reverie and he swore to himself. He hadn’t meant to yell at her, certainly
hadn’t meant to scare her. He wheeled across the room, around the chair she’d
left in the middle of the floor, and into his bed-room. As he pulled up to the
side of his bed, he lowered his voice and crooned.
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay,
honey. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
Claire rolled over and pulled her
knees up to her chest. She stared at Gideon, her breath hiccupping. Gideon
reached over and brushed the tears from her face, his hands following the wet
trail across her cheek and into her hair.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” He waited
and gave her time to focus on what he said.
She sat up and he patted his lap.
She climbed into it and he hugged her as he rocked her back and forth. The
warmth from her body melted the icy feeling in his heart.
His sister, Samantha, is the catalyst to his relationship
with the heroine, Lily. She often appears to meddle, but she does it out of
love for him:
Gideon took a deep breath.
“Samantha, I know you’re doing what you think is best, but believe me, I don’t
want your help. I am perfectly happy just the way I am.”
“Are you?” Samantha asked. “I
mean really?”
Gideon closed his eyes for a
minute. “Sam, there are a lot of definitions of happy, so yes, I am. Besides, I
can take care of myself.”
“I know you
can. Okay, I’ll lay off.”
In
Skin Deep, the hero has never known love from anyone in his past, except a
special teacher who took on the “mother role.” Their bond is special, and is
what helped to shape the way he relates to people as an adult:
“This woman
saved my life.” He stared at Valerie. “She was there for me when no one else
was.”
John rang the
doorbell and squeezed her hand while they waited. After a moment, the curtains
moved in the front window. A squeal, and the door opened wide, releasing the
smell of cinnamon outside. A tiny woman with white hair and a huge smile stood
in the doorway.
“John!” she
cried as her eyes sparkled. She stood back and ushered them both into the
house.
John reached
down and gave her a quick hug. Valerie saw the brief look of shock on the
woman’s face at the contact, before she hid it from view. This woman knew John
well, she thought. Her arms fluttered around John like a butterfly, be-fore
they rested lightly on his broad back.
“Hello, Mrs.
Mayberry. I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Valerie. Valerie, this is
Mrs. Mayberry, my fifth-grade teacher.”
There are all types of love that can be shown in a romance
novel. And the more you use, the more complex your characters, and your
stories, will be.