Ah, the expectations of reviewers when they open a romance book! It's a mysterious thing.
The love story is a given. The variable is sex. More politely, the "level of sensuality." Translation: Will they kiss with flushed cheeks and yearning in their hearts? Or will their naked, sweaty coupling knock the pictures off the walls and violate state ethics laws, possibly before exchanging names? There are no guidelines. No scale that says if he puts his tongue in her mouth it's a 4, and if they invite the neighbors to join them, it's a 9.
So let's be daring and quantify it. On that imaginary scale of 10, I'd say I come in at a 6. But that's just my interpretation. Here are a few reviewers' takes on my newly-released book, SILVER SPARKS:
"Would have liked the heat level to be turned up a couple of notches." This reviewer laments that there is no sex until the middle of the book, and then "they never really did it again." I disagree, but let's just say she obviously subscribes to the Bill Clinton definition of sex.
"Plenty of sizzle."
"It didn't get steamy towards the middle overall."
"The sparks fly...it will have you wanting an icy cold drink nearby."
"Ambrose is excellent at the love scenes without making it erotic."
So do you get an idea of what to expect? Not sure? Don't blame the reviewers, they can only judge based on their own expectations. You'll just have to read it and decide for yourself. (Golly, who would have guessed I'd come to that conclusion?)
Sincere thanks to the many reviewers for telling readers about SILVER SPARKS! Whether they yawned through the sex scenes, or fanned themselves vigorously, they all loved the book, and I love them in return!