Page 16 of Going Viral for Christmas
There’s a collective sigh, the front rows are full of giggles, and one very dramatic,“Marry me,”from a reader hugging a special edition of one of his books.
Shirley grins awkwardly, fanning herself with her clipboard. “My, my, Soren. You certainly know how to get the crowd going.”
“I aim to please.”
Oh, I bet you do.
“Well, let’s dive in with anotherquestion. Ava, this is for you.”
I sit straighter.
“What’s the appeal of a holiday romance to you?”
Pausing to consider what the best words for this would be, I think through all the scenarios Soren could use against me.
Finally, I answer with, “It’s about hope. Kissing under mistletoe. People falling in love. Not in spite of the conflict around them, but because of it.”
Soren fake yawns.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I snip at him. “Is a heartfelt connection boring you, Soren?”
“Not at all.” He straightens in his chair. “I love when epic love stories come with gingerbread cookies and a snowball fight.”
“I’ll have you know a snowball fight is a time-honored metaphor for intimacy.”
Soren nods solemnly. “Nothing screams passion like concussions and frostbite.”
“Well, Soren,” Shirley turns toward him, “that leads us into a question we have for you. What’s thefantasytake on holiday stories?”
He folds his hands, just like I imagine a biggity little sorcerer might. “Give me a solstice curse. A kingdom at war with itself. Star-crossed lovers hiding in a frozen forest with only a dagger and a shared cloak. Doom and destiny...that’s for me.”
“You know,” I say sweetly. “Swords and daggers, it’s all starting to feel a bit Freudian.”
“Funny, coming from the girl who uses ‘throbbing tension’ excessively.”
“Sir, I will have you know, I use meticulously crafted, emotionally secure sensuality, thank you very much. Classy smut. Grown-up spice. I know those two words are hard for you to relate to.”
“Smut and spice? Oh, Ava, I relate to those very well.” That wicked fucking grin spreads across his face again.
“Funny.” I sneer at him. “But I was referring to classy and grown-up.”
“Right. Well, since you brought up the smut and spice. To clarify, you mean the kind you pretend you’re reading for the plot while your tingly girl parts are composing thank-you notes to your bedside drawer’s top shelf, correct?”
The crowd erupts in a fit of laughter. The conversation spirals from there. We debate elves versus werewolves, the legitimacy of magical coffee shops as a viable battle strategy, and whether baking cookies counts as a love language.
We argue over the superiority of hayride meet-cutes versus enchanted-sword soulmate bonds, and a woman from the back yells, “What about Santa smut?”
Neither of us knows how to respond to that. My voice is bright andbiting, seasoned with a healthy dose of nervous laughter. His is shadows and seduction.
And then another woman in the audience calls out, “How about Romantasy?”
Soren groans theatrically. “Ah, yes. The genre where emotional longing appears, wielding a destiny map, and magical powers serve as metaphors for unspoken feelings. It’s interesting, the villain always knows when to strike. And the sex is a little too good to be healthy, where you don’t know if you’re about to be claimed or cursed, and half the time someone’s growling ‘touch her and die’ before burning off a corset with that metaphoric magic I mentioned earlier.”
The room cackles.
“No offense, Ava.”
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I shrug. “None taken. I’m thrilledsomefantasy authors are finally discovering what romance readers have known all along.”
