People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like.
—Abraham Lincoln (supposedly)
I was excited to finally read Lover Unleashed because I knew that, since it was Payne’s book, there was bound to be a lot of Vishous in it. I’m a major Vishous fangurl. No matter how good a book in the series might be, I’m always left thinking, “Harrumph. Could’ve used more Vishous.”
I was right—Vishous is front and center in much of the book, and that’s great. But I still can’t say if I liked Lover Unleashed; I felt compelled to keep reading, because I wanted to know what happened, and that right there is the most basic test of a storyteller’s ability: do you want to know what happens next?
J.R. Ward knows how to make you keep turning the pages. Unfortunately, for the past few books—I’d say starting with Lover Unbound (which happened to be Vishous’s book)—it seems every time I turn the page, I’m going “What??” or “You did not just say that AGAIN” or “Woman, have you read any of your prior books? And if so, why can’t you remember what happened in them?”
And I did more of that in Lover Unleashed.
“Now wait,” you say. “Kinsey, how can you be a fangurl, how can you read every BDB book, when Ward’s writing drives you up the *&&%$^(@ing wall?”
Some people might not find the drug allusions (“My First Time on Crahck”) humorous, but if you’re a Black Dagger Brotherhood aficionado, you’ll understand exactly what I’m talking about.
One of my favorite romance novel tropes is the brainy-but-ditzy, tomboyish-but-cleans-up-good, cute-as-a-button heroine (henceforth referred to as the BBDTBCUGCAABH) who somehow doesn’t realize she’s cute as a button or that all the men she meets really do want her. She’s forever feeling like she just doesn’t do the girlie well enough and that all the guys just want to be her friend.
When reading romance, I never doubt for a moment that the hero and heroine will end up together—it wouldn’t be a romance if they didn’t. No matter how emotionally invested I become in a story, I don’t let the angst get to me.
I started reading romance in the Old Skool days—late ’70s and early ’80s. I was in junior high and high school, and romance novels were my main source of information about sex. I learned more from 
I love the romantic anti-hero, the hottie who starts out bad but is redeemed, or chastened, or blindsided or bludgeoned by love and winds up a hero almost in spite of himself. Villains don’t get redeemed, but the anti-hero makes you love him, or at least lust for him. Then you have to root for his redemption, because if he doesn’t turn to the Light Side, it means you’ve fallen for a villain, doesn’t it?
We’ve often focused on the men of True Blood, and for good reason—an inability to wear shirts, serious sexual charisma, and many, many abs. But what about the ladies? So we thought we’d represent them as well, and do a H & H Throwdown on which True Blood woman you like the best. First we had vampire Pam pitted against faery Sookie. Now we’ve got Merlotte’s waitresses Tara and Arlene in the ring. Let us know in comments which is your favorite, and that winner will go against the winner of the next round. 
History buffs and hist-rom readers alike know that adultery has traditionally been an accepted, even expected, feature of aristocratic life—and not just in the distant past, either. It’s rumored that during one of Charles and Diana’s blazing rows about his relationship with Camilla Parker-Bowles, Charles was heard to ask in disbelief, “Am I to be the first Prince of Wales without a mistress?”
Continuing from 
Kathleen Woodiwiss didn’t invent the romance novel; Harlequin and Mills and Boon were publishing romances before Woodiwiss’ first book appeared in 1972. She didn’t invent the sweeping historical melodrama; 
There’s a phrase one of my characters uses in my latest book: consanguineous shagging. I’m pretty sure I coined it myself. It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it’s fun to say.
