This post originally appeared on Sweet N’ Sexy Divas, a group romance author blog. Check it out for some fun takes on romance fiction, the writing life, and more. http://sweetnsexydivas.blogspot.com/

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Seasoned romance is on my mind lately. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, “seasoned romance” features couples (or more) over thirty-five. Thirty-five! Apparently, the traditional publishing world discourages romance protagonists that old. At the 2018 RWA conference, an editor from the most famous romance publisher stated that no one wants to read about anyone over thirty-two having sex. Doesn’t that blow your mind?

There’s nothing wrong with any age a human happens to be, young, old, or in between. Besides my own “seasoned” real-life romance (Hubs & I met at 48 & 61), I’ve known many couples who found each other after age fifty and are deliriously happy together. I’m willing to gamble that plenty of romance readers are interested in love stories with older characters. One of the blessings of being an indie author is I can write what I want!

My current project, a novella for a Valentine’s Day themed anthology coming out next winter, is a spin-off from my Bangers Tavern series and features a 45-year-old heroine who runs a vintage clothing shop and a 50-year-old silver fox real estate developer. As always, their connection will be hot, hot, hot!

Here’s an excerpt from Through the Red Door: Book Nirvana 1. Bookshop owner Clara Martelli is a widow at thirty-nine, anthropology professor Nick Papadopoulos is a forty-one-year-old widower, and divorced high school teacher Doug Garvey is thirty-nine. Not only is it a seasoned romance—it’s a spicy one!  (Content warning: TTRD is a love triangle story, but the man who loses out finds his perfect match in Book 2 of the series, Runaway Love Story.)

In this scene, Nick and Clara are paging through the book of historical Japanese erotic drawings he’s just purchased from Clara’s collection of naughty books—kept behind a locked red door.

What was wrong with her? Handsome men came into her shop all the time. Why was this one making her so dizzy, so giddy?

Relax, she told herself. It’s just a coffee.

The tempting odor of fresh coffee and sweet baked treats reminded her she hadn’t eaten in several hours. Since Jared’s death, she often felt disconnected from her body, as if sensations like hunger or fatigue were happening to someone else across the room, not to her. But now, her stomach rumbled audibly as she passed the big glass case laden with tempting muffins and fat cookies.

“I’ll have a large cappuccino and one of those blueberry scones,” Nick told the waitress. “And the lady will have…” He smiled over his shoulder.

“I’ll have the same, thanks.” Her greedy stomach clamored for something more, but she restrained herself.

“Let’s sit over here by the fireplace.” Nick pulled up a chair for Clara and slid another close beside her. He took a bite of his scone, then carefully wiped his fingertips before opening the book he’d bought. The endpaper inside was swirled with cloud-like designs in delicate blues and grays. When he turned the page, Clara’s eyes widened, and her breath caught.

A Japanese courtier, his silk kimono open, presented a kneeling geisha with his huge, engorged shaft, dark purple and ridged with bulging veins.

Clara’s fingers clenched her scone, crushing it to smithereens.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She dropped the mess onto her plate and then brushed the crumbs from the page, which sent them tumbling onto Nick’s lap. She reached for his leg, realized what she was doing, and snatched her hand back, mortified.

Her fingers flew to her glowing cheeks—probably just as flushed as that enormous painted penis.

“Here, let me get you another scone.” Nick rose and moved to the counter.

While his attention was diverted, Clara reached out a trembling hand to flip the page, then gulped. The two- page spread displayed an orgy scene: an elaborately- coiffed woman astride the huge cock of an elegant, balding man who reached out to diddle another woman between her wide-spread thighs. Surrounding them were six more women, each rubbing a companion’s foot against her own clitoris, all of them entwined in an intricate human knot.

Clara and Jared were adventurous lovers, but this was beyond anything they’d tried, or even imagined. She turned the book sideways and peered closer at the drawing. Something touched her shoulder and, startled, she squeaked like a little girl and slammed the book shut.

 Beside her stood Nick, the smutty professor, holding a plate with two scones. Was that a blush coloring his chiseled cheeks? With his deep olive complexion, it was hard to tell. She lowered her gaze and found herself looking right at his crotch.

Damn it!

With no safe place to direct her gaze, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sorry, Clara. Beautiful women bring out my devilish side. Please forgive me.” He slid a new scone onto her empty plate, then sat beside her. “I guess Shunga isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

Through the Red Door is available from your favorite online bookseller. Get your copy here.

Thanks for reading! What’s your take on Seasoned Romance? Do you care about the age of romance protagonists?