‘Yeah,’ the knob continued, ‘good point. If these books are supposed to be realistic, where are all the short guys? Or the stories about women falling in love with the men with receding hairlines, erectile dysfunction, beer bellies and moobs? And how can these couplesalwayslive happily ever after when fifty per cent of marriages end in divorce? It’s just bullshit!’
Calling romance novelsunrealisticandpredictablewas bad enough.
Butbullshit?
This arsehole had just crossed the line.
Bloody typical.
Seeing a hot guy was rare. So of course I should’ve known it was too good to be true. But it was a mystery why the universe had decided to put me, an aspiring romance author, on a train where a man who looked like a book hero was slagging off my favourite genre.
Talk about a cruel coincidence.
It took every ounce of willpower to stop me flying out of my seat and storming over to give him a piece of my mind, but I had to be careful. He could be crazy (very likely, considering the shit that had just come out of his mouth) or dangerous, so I had to bite my tongue.
Instead, I pulled out my phone, snapped a selfie of me looking unimpressed and then drafted an Instagram post.
Can’t believe the audacity of some twat on my train who’s talking sh*t about romance! Calling it predictable and unrealistic! He’s lucky I don’t take his photo and share it!
Like this post if you’re sick of people dissing romance.
#traintwat #romancerocks #romancebookstagram
Within minutes I had a flurry of comments from romance readers sharing their anger and frustration and encouraging me to photograph him, but as tempting as it was, I decided not to.
He got off at the next stop, but even when the train pulled into Sunshine Bay around ten minutes later, I was still seething.
My ex used to slag off romance novels all the time and I always ignored it. But now I’d had enough. I was sick of people bashing the genre.
There were no taxis at the station, but, fuelled by my anger, I dragged my case to the B&B, dropped it off with the lovely owner, Glenda, and told her I’d be back soon to check in properly. I had to talk to Jess ASAP. I knew she’d understand why I was so riled up.
I stepped through the grand solid wooden double doors into the library, and the anger I’d felt a few minutes ago melted away.
As I walked down the corridors, my gaze flicked straight to the warm rose painted walls which had relatable bookish quotes like ‘Just One More Chapter’ stencilled onto them.
My favourite place was the main library space in the grand hall. It had rows of tall pink-and-white bookcases (with rolling ladders, of course), filled with thousands of romance books.
There were dreamy window seats and comfy pink sofas with cushions and fluffy blankets galore.
The library even had colourful book chandeliers hanging from the ceilings.
It was a romance book lovers’ paradise.
This felt like home.
The outside world was polluted with idiots like that Train Twat who didn’t understand the beauty and joy that romance novels brought.
But the Romance Library was a safe place. This was where I belonged.
You’d never find haters like him within these walls. Only people who adored the genre and gave it the respect it deserved were allowed through the doors.
‘You made it!’ Jess ran over and pulled me into a warm hug.
‘I did! So great to see you, hon!’ I said, squeezing her tighter. ‘Have you coloured your hair?’ I stepped back to admire it. Her thick shoulder-length curls looked a shade lighter than normal, and her light brown skin was glowing.
‘Yeah. Kara, the local hairdresser, convinced me to try a caramel tint.’
‘That’s brave for you!’ I said. Jess wasn’t normally one for going to the salon or wearing much make-up. She was one of those lucky people who looked beautiful without it.
