Four Smart Authors Part II: Glenda Sanders

This guest post was submitted by Magdalen. Part III will be posted next Tuesday.

Here’s the second of my guest posts on the subject of four specific authors I personally enjoy (Leslie LaFoy, Glenda Sanders, Beverly Sommers, and Mira Stables) because they are all smart authors.

Next up:  Glenda Sanders (who does not appear to have a website, particularly as I don’t believe she ran recently for Superior Court Judge in Orange County, CA).  Most of Ms. Sanders’ books were contemporary romances published as Harlequin Temptations, and none later than 1995.  Which is bad news for readers, because hers is an awesome talent.  I reread four of her Harlequins, listed here in the order in which I read them.  I saved Island Nights for the last because it’s one of my all-time favorite books, one I’ve read several times (and cried every single time!), but I was impressed with the quality of the other three.  All four books have a quality of –what? realism or perhaps plausibility is a better word.  The situations are fresh and uncontrived, and the emotions of the characters are believable and poignant.  In one, Daddy, Darling, I really felt for both protagonists; theirs was not necessarily an easy conflict to resolve.  But I said I would do these in the order in which I read them, so . . .

Dr. Hunk (1993)

Garrick “Gere” Booth is an entomologist living in central Florida; when his sister in Indiana decides to help jumpstart his non-existent sex life, he starts receiving perfumed letters addressed to Dr. Hunk.  This intrigues his rural mail carrier, Shelley Peters, but when she agrees to go out with him, she thinks of him as just a geeky friend.  To improve his chances with Shelley, Gere undergoes a make-over in stages.  He’s not precisely a virgin, but Sanders telegraphs that he’s pretty inexperienced, but she never belittles him or allows others to mock him or even let him feel bad about himself.  He recognizes that he has to make some changes to fit into Shelley’s world, and he gets the job done.

For Shelley’s part, the only real journey she has to take is to see Gere as a romantic catch and to overcome the fact that she’s never been to college while he has two Ph.D. degrees.  Again, Sanders doesn’t overdo Shelley’s issues, and her commonsense approach to his career is refreshing for the hero and for us as readers.  This is basically a “conflict-lite” book — very little stands in the way of the protagonists’ burgeoning romance.  Shelley thinks maybe he’s got another woman (no, it’s just his research on moths) and Kyle thinks maybe she’s been in a bad accident (no, someone borrowed her Jeep).  Neither of them exploits these minor confusions.

The real delight of this book is meeting two pleasant and enjoyable people as well as their friends/family, watching their delight in each other and seeing them fall in love.  Sometimes a romance is just that: a romance.  And when it’s done with intelligence and realism, it’s particularly enjoyable.

A Human Touch (1991)  (This won the RITA for Best Short Contemporary Series Romance of 1991)

Meredith Quinn is homeless at the beginning of this book.  And before I discuss this plot, I need to acknowledge that these romances are nearly 20 years old.  (What would that genre be called:  Recent historicals?  Nearly contemporaries?)  Homelessness was a real social issue of its time; today it would be referenced with foreclosure, getting laid off, and losing one’s health insurance.  So the underlying issue is pretty much the same today, but Sanders used some of-their-time details of homelessness in this book.  For example, when she meets the hero, Meredith is living in her car with her newborn daughter, Stacy, and has turned to a local parish priest for help.  He in turned has turned to his old friend, Kyle Brooks, for help.

Kyle is a divorce lawyer who has built a lucrative practice by representing women suing their ex-husbands.  Mark, the priest, figures Kyle can help Meredith by suing the schmuck who got her pregnant.  Which Kyle can do, of course, but Father Mark’s meddling goes farther:  Kyle has said in the past he wants a housekeeper, and who better than Meredith.  She needs a home, and has the skills necessary.  He has maid’s quarters.  Perfect fit.  The beauty of this plan doesn’t sit well with Kyle.  (Meredith is so desperate to care for her daughter that she’ll put up with anyone Father Mark vouches for, even a grouchy lawyer.)  Eventually Kyle agrees to take the pair of them on.

I’ve never been homeless, or even particularly poor, but Meredith’s situation and reactions struck me as entirely believable without being maudlin.   A risk, then, would be whether the romance would seem, well, small in the face of her need for shelter, sustenance and security.  I think Sanders pulls this off, and a lot of it has to do with the way that Kyle is portrayed.  He’s not a nice hunky guy at the beginning of the book (and no, not all of his brusqueness is the result of his profession) but Meredith takes his behavior in her stride.  Her patience with him is borne of her own situation.  She can’t afford to be offended by his rudeness, and anyway, she recognizes that she has been foist on him.  Her tolerance allows us to be tolerant, and when she starts to see his better qualities, we see them too.  Kyle’s actually the last one to figure out that he is a romantic hero.

So how does Sanders pull off the feat of allowing these people fall in love?  Stacy, the baby, really helps out here — and not as a pint-sized deus ex machina.  Kyle softens gradually in his dealings with Stacy, and that softness is the thin end of the wedge with regard to his feelings about, and then for, Meredith.  It’s not easy for them as a couple, and in the end, Kyle has to look at the reasons he is the lawyer he is before he can see what’s holding him back as a potential mate.

I’m a lawyer (some days) and I particularly appreciated the way Sanders addressed the merits and dangers of Meredith’s potential lawsuit against her former boyfriend.  Kyle is all gung-ho, and he overrides Meredith’s fears, but that’s because he was lacking a critical quality of empathy in his dealings with her as a client.  When he sees what actually plays out, his concerns for her as a human being/a mother/his lover take over and he can represent her better.  It’s not that Sanders got the law right or wrong, but lawyers are human, and some of them can act like hotshot cowboys to the detriment of their clients’ interests.  It’s all too plausible and it’s nice to see a lawyer actually grow up in that respect.

Daddy, Darling (1989)

Back in 1989, I suspect I read this novel just like any other romance.  Today, it stuns me.  You want original writing?  Check this out:  On page 1, Dory Karol and Scott Rowland are having hot hot sex.  Yup, page 1.  And they already use the L-word (“love”).  In fact, the sex never goes bad, and they never stop loving each other.  But for most of the book, it really seems doubtful that they can make their relationship work.  So if you ever thought that all it took was some hot hot sex and the willingness to love for an HEA, read this book.  I defy any reader to not see precisely what the problem is that keeps these two apart.

Dory (short for Isadora) Karol is a trusts & estates lawyer (don’t worry, this is a nearly law-free book); Scott Rowland is an accountant and part-time professor.  She lives in Tallahassee; he lives in Gainesville (about 150 miles apart, we’re told).  He’s a Gator; she’s a Seminole (deep college rivals).  They’ve got the perfect long-distance relationship: they take turns driving to see each other on alternate weekends.  They have the aforementioned hot hot sex.  Neither one cheats, flirts, or is anything other than completely committed to their relationship.  They love each other.

The last sentence of Chapter Two is Dory telling Scott (after hot hot sex), “I’m pregnant.”  Which is a bad thing from Scott’s perspective.  Sanders does a good job of explaining, in flashbacks and vignettes, why Scott can be committed to Dory but not happy about having a baby.  This is basic with him.  He truly believes at his core that marriage, a baby, and living together fulltime will ruin what they have together.

But it is undeniable that “what they have together” is already threatened.  Every time they see each other, Dory’s more focused on the baby.  She doesn’t want to pressure Scott, but she does want to share with him what’s going on.  She’s walking a fine line, trying hard to continue to be the loving girlfriend he’s enjoyed for three years while also preparing mentally and emotionally to have this baby.  But she’s thinking more and more about her future, and Scott can’t help but think more and more about his past.

I really felt for these people, both of them.  Neither one was right, or wrong.  They were just trying hard to move an immovable object.  At one point Dory buys a house and doesn’t even consult Scott.  That seemed harsh, but she was making decisions that made sense for her as a mother-to-be.  Still, he’s stung by that, and as the reader we can see why.  Sanders doesn’t have to stretch credulity or our patience to get us to empathize with Scott, even though clearly he’s the one who’s got to realign his entire life.

And here’s another thing I liked: two secondary characters are convincingly human and realistic.  Scott’s partner and best friend finally lays it all out for Scott, and it’s a talking-to that we can applaud but which only Mike can deliver.  And Dory’s brother, Sergei, is supportive without being a perfect, can-do substitute hero.

So, for outright shock value, moral complexity and a well-earned HEA,  this book has it all.

Island Nights (1990)

I finished re-reading this just hours ago, and even writing about it will make me cry.  I’m just saying.  This is probably the most romantic series romance I’ve ever read.  I only hope I can do it justice.  Here goes.

Stephen Dumont is the only son of the famous Dumont family, who run a hotel and ski school near Lake Louise in Canada.  He has only just had the cast removed from a bad compound fracture.  He’s a crappy patient and can’t stand his physical limitations.  So his sisters organize a trip to Barbados for him: a week where he can swim and exercise his leg.  The trip to the island is long and difficult, and he’s drunk and exhausted when he arrives.

Luckily for him, Janet Granville is on hand to help him with his winter clothing and his bad leg.  She’s a pro — she works for Disney World helping special needs visitors.  She notes that he’s very handsome, but figures he’s a lush, so she’s not interested.  But when they meet up the next day at the resort where they’re both staying, he seems a lot more reasonable.  They’re both alone, so they hang out.

It’s the basic set-up for an vacation romance, but Sanders lets us see that both Stephen and Janet are real romantics.  He’s also an experienced lover, and their teasing foreplay is very skillfully done, but it’s the romantic gestures they make that are so unusual and touching.  (You’ll either have to read the book or trust me on this.  If I told you that he “buys” a Barbados lamb for her, you’d be thinking of all the reasons that perhaps livestock is not the most lover-like gift imaginable.  And you’d be wrong.)

But here’s the bit that is heartwrenchingly beautiful.  Sanders doesn’t overdo the reasons why he’s got to stay in Canada and she’s not going to be able to live with him there, but what matters is that Stephen and Janet believe this to be true.  So they know that they can only have this brief time together.  And if all they did was have hot hot sex, it wouldn’t be convincing that they have fallen in love in such a short time.  But as Stephen’s departure nears, they are both desperate to make sure that the other will remember what they once shared.  Janet, in particular, tries to think of the perfect gift for Stephen to take with him.  She succeeds in organizing an unforgettable scene, both for them and for us.

I can’t reveal this ending, as much as I would like to.  Let me just say two things:  First, I love the ending of this book so much that I have twice now tried to read it aloud for my husband (once for each husband); it’s a bit of failed effort because I can’t do it without crying.  Second, Ross (the current husband), seeing me crying all over again, has just suggested that I mention that this is a five-tissue ending.  Five well-used tissues!  (Sorry if that’s TMI.)

And a final thought about smart authors.  I like their books because they engage my mind as well as my heart.  Sometimes, the pure emotion quotient is slightly lower because the book is so smart.  (Beverly Sommers, in Part IV, is a case in point.)  I don’t actually mind that trade-off, as the most romantic book simply doesn’t work for me if the plot, characters, or writing is dumb.  But Island Nights seems to have found the perfect synergy:  it’s not as clever as Daddy, Darling, but it’s smart enough and I’d definitely give it top marks for romance.

Tagged as: Four Smart Authors, Glenda Sanders, Guest Post