Nicholas Sparks, Hot Chocolate and Me

I was 24, psychologically decimated from leaving my long term relationship, and living with my parents. For the first time in my life, I’d given up on the idea of true love. I retreated to a world that had always given me solace: the world of books.

Strolling through the aisles of a local book shop, none of the books appealed to me - another first. I was about to give up and leave, when I caught sight of one called, A Walk To Remember. I picked it up, flipped it over to the blurb, and realized it was a romance novel. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for love.

Or, so I thought.

As I was putting the book back on the shelf, I noted something else. The name of the author. Nicholas Sparks. A man. I stopped in my tracks, astounded. Since when did MEN write romance?

That intrigued me enough to buy it.

Later that night, I snuggled up in bed, hot chocolate in one hand, Nicholas Sparks in the other. By the early morning hours, I’d finished the book. It gave me hope, inspired me. I wanted more. I have read every one of his books since then (except The Notebook, but that's a topic for another blog).

Over the years, every time my heart splintered, and I wanted to give up, my faith in true love was restored by Nicholas Sparks, hot chocolate . . . and me.