How I Write Love Scenes Without Dying of Embarrassment

Looking for your next great read? Check out my latest books.

Why this take?

Someone asked me at a book event how I write love scenes. My face went the color of a fire truck. Not because I'm a prude — I write romantic suspense with significant heat, and I'm proud of every page. But there's something about looking a stranger in the eye and discussing fictional intimacy that makes my brain short-circuit.

The honest answer is: I write them the same way I write fight scenes. With careful choreography, emotional stakes, and a deep understanding of what each character needs from the moment. The embarrassment is just part of the process. Like tax season. Unavoidable, uncomfortable, ultimately necessary.

Emotion first, always

Here's the secret that took me three books to learn: the physical part isn't what makes a love scene work. Readers don't remember Tab A and Slot B mechanics. They remember the emotional shift. The moment a character drops their guard. The exhale. The thing that was said — or deliberately not said — while everything else was happening.

I draft every love scene twice. First pass: emotional architecture only. What does each character want that they can't ask for? What are they afraid the other person will see? What lie do they tell themselves to make this feel safe? Second pass: sensory detail. Temperature. Texture. Sound. The physical wraps around the emotional framework like skin over bone.

The headphones rule

I cannot write love scenes in public. I've tried. I spent forty-five minutes at a coffee shop staring at a blinking cursor while the barista made aggressive eye contact. I kept imagining everyone could see my screen, which is irrational but also the entire reason I own noise-canceling headphones and a privacy screen protector.

These days I write them at home, usually late at night, with music that matches the tone. Something atmospheric for slow and tender. Something with a beat for urgent and desperate. The music does about sixty percent of the heavy lifting for getting me into the headspace. The remaining forty percent is coffee and sheer willpower.

What I've learned about heat levels

Different stories need different heat. That sounds obvious, but it took me a while to internalize. Early on, I thought every romance needed to hit a certain temperature to be "real." I was wrong. Some stories need the door closed. Some need it wide open. The right heat level is whatever serves the characters and the emotional arc.

In my Fallen Hearts series, the love scenes are intense but selective. Aria and Darius have been through war, betrayal, and grief. When they're finally together, it matters that it's rare and deliberate. Flooding the book with intimate scenes would cheapen what they fought to build.

In Lethal Hearts, the heat runs higher because the dynamic demands it. Nyx and Declan communicate through action more than words. For them, physical intimacy is where the emotional honesty happens — it's the only language they're both fluent in. Pulling back on those scenes would have been a disservice to who they are.

The awkwardness is the point

I think the embarrassment I feel writing these scenes is actually a feature, not a bug. If I weren't a little uncomfortable, I'd be phoning it in. The discomfort means I'm being honest — writing something real instead of something safe. And readers can tell the difference.

So yes. I write love scenes. I do it with headphones on and my door closed and my face slightly red. And I wouldn't trade it for anything, because those scenes — when they work — are some of the truest things I write.

That's my take on things, anyway.

Find all my books and series on my bookshelf.