So I’m reading my romance novel and things are starting to heat up… wink, wink… you know what I mean. And then two words jump up and throw me way out of my happy place.


You’ve heard of Vlad the Impaler? He was the seriously mixed up Voivode of Wallachia back in the 1400’s. Apparently, he “executed by impalement” a lot of people to impose his rule. His family name was Dracul. Yep, that’s where Dracula comes from. Wikipedia

Shudder, writhe, wretch. So much for that sexy feeling.


I love bread. I love to mix together a few simple ingredients that will turn into heaven from my oven. I even paraphrased an ode to bread. To do it right, kneading requires some upper body strength. On a warm day, I “perspire” when I knead bread. When I think of the effort of kneading applied to human flesh… I cross my arms protectively over my chest.

So NOT a turn-on!

NOT sexy!

Romance writers, please use kinder words in your sex scenes and leave Vlad, and his baker, out of it. Thank you.

© 2017 Joan Leacott

So I’m deep into my romance novel; the spunky hero, the tortured heroine (can you tell I like to mess with expectations?) are wonderful. And then… oh my, he does something that aggravates me every time I read it… pulls me right out my happy place.

She’s crying about something and he wants to comfort her. Good man.

How does he give the much-needed comfort?

Does he hug her? Nope.

Give her a drink? Nope.

Hand her a handkerchief? Not that either.

He sits her down on his lap. Like a little kid.

Sometimes, he blows her nose for her. Yes, really. Eww!

Does this work for you? Me neither.

And then there’s the whole two bodies fitting together thing. Do they actually fit like in that novel?

Wanna find out? It requires participation, not strenuous, no push-ups or any of that nonsense.

I want you go find your partner and find a comfortable seat, the couch will work fine.

The larger of the two of you, have a seat. The smaller of the two have a sideways seat (not a straddle, cuz that’s a whole other discussion) on the lap now in front of you. Comfy? How long can you sit there before both pairs of thigh bones start complaining?

Where are your heads and shoulders in relation to each other? For my husband and I, my head is slightly above his. He has to lift his chin to give me a kiss. Mmm. Nice for him to get a crick in the neck for a change.


Okay, now the one on top, lay your head on your partner’s shoulder. Still comfy?

Try laying your head on your partner’s chest. Oh, that’s… contortionist’s territory.

So why then, do we read this very scenario over and over and over again?

I’m asking all romance writers out there to please stop with the lap sitting!

And if you find it my books, drop me a line! Please!