A Plea for More Yearning in Romance

Y’all, I am tired of the chili pepper ratings. I need a yearning scale. Give me a love interest who listens a little too closely, who notices what everyone else misses. I want characters who care too deeply, but struggle to show it. That’s where story happens. You know, intimacy without seduction. 

I recently talked about this in my writing webinar Creating Character Chemistry, but I wanted to dive a little deeper today. When we discuss intimacy, we often jump straight to physical proximity, so much so that one of readers’ favorite tropes is forced proximity. But on the page, intimacy is really about care: making someone’s favorite drink just the way they like it, creating a safe space for the other to rest, or simply listening.  

This is where love languages become powerful storytelling tools. The most well-known ones are acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, physical touch, and receiving gifts. The biggest mistake I see? An author trying to cover all of these love languages in one novel. Most of the strongest novels I’ve read, truly home in on one that means the most. And their other half typically has different needs/wants. This creates tension. In fact, I think it’s best when the couple doesn’t share the same love language; they only need to learn how to speak each other’s. Learning how to love someone well is romantic all on its own.

Once you figure that out, please please please write the micro before the macro.

Sure, big gestures are fun. And we all love the moment the love interests finally confess or kiss, but longing lives in the small things: sharing food without thinking or accidentally sitting a little too close. 

As they overcome their internal struggle—like bettering themselves for the other—they also must face an external one that’s keeping them apart. Think Darcy and Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. The moment they overcome their judgements toward the other, Elizabeth’s little sister elopes. This societal shame is now keeping them apart. Both Elizabeth and Darcy are partially responsible for this as well. The characters must be in order for the emotional and physical stakes to work effectively. 

This inner-outer force combination is where yearning thrives. 

It’s why we ache for characters even when they’ve already admitted their feelings or kissed. Wanting isn’t the same as having. And romance thrives in that space in between.

Now what about spice?

Regardless of your taste, romance doesn’t require spice, but it does require heart. That said, as spice has surged in popularity, I’ve noticed the meaning has been slipping. What do I mean by that? If the spice scenes can be removed without the story being affected at all, it needs revising. Spice still has to serve the narrative. A great spicy scene should change the characters. It might shift power dynamics, expose vulnerability, deepen trust, or risk emotional fallout. Spice works best when it reveals something true (fear, surrender, loss of control, desire that costs something). The connection and growth has to matter.

I think that’s why Heated Rivalry resonated so strongly. Though it’s sex-forward, every scene actively develops the individuals and their relationship. The characters aren’t just exploring each other’s bodies; they’re uncovering their emotions, boundaries, and attachment to one another.

So here’s my loud, desperate plea. 

Let’s focus on intimacy so that spice feels earned and not rushed. I want my romance to ache and stay with me long after the book is closed. 

Let’s bring yearning back,

~SAT

Did you see my latest character art drop???? This is the “don’t look at me, so I can build the confidence to kiss you” feeling of Noah & Sophia in my dystopian romance Take Me Tomorrow.

When you’re thinking about your characters’ love arc, consider what their ultimate “feeling” is.

If you couldn’t say “I love you” – what would be the equivalent?

what is their love story’s mantra?

Tell me below!