I had the pleasure of watching my favorite movie in 3D yesterday: TITANIC.
What an incredible love story! The romance has all the elements I find intriguing: a strong hero and heroine, sacrifice, drama and humor, star-crossed lovers facing all sorts of conflicts including different backgrounds and a meddling third party, but most of all…two people making each other better through their love.
And of course I loved Rose guessing Dr. Freud would have something to say about men being obsessed with size, and Mr. Ismay replying, “I haven’t heard of this Dr. Freud…is he a passenger?” Hee hee.
Have you ever referred to a movie in your writing? I’m about 2/5 done with On Best Behavior, the third novel in The Conduct Series (adult romantic suspense). I just had to mention Titanic leading up to a love scene between my hero and heroine, Grant and Sophie. Here’s an excerpt:
Grant locked the door behind him and strolled into the darkened apartment. He hesitated upon noticing Sophie crashed on the sofa. The glow of the television framed her body in muted blue light. Her head tilted back, resting on the cushion, and her long strawberry-blond hair draped in soft waves around her face. She’d propped up her feet on the coffee table.
Smiling, he crossed over to the sofa and sat next to her, studying her delicate features. She hadn’t removed her makeup, and he noticed smudged eye shadow above long eyelashes feathered shut. She looked so serene. He reveled in the quiet after spending the night in a loud bar, stressed from hitting each note while scanning the crowd for any sign of the Russians.
Glancing at the TV, Grant saw the menu screen for Titanic and surmised she must have fallen asleep watching the DVD. Apparently she’d muted the sound before drifting off—the remote rested on her upturned palm.
As he crept in to reach for the remote, his hand halted midair when he heard a faint moan erupt from her lips. “Ahhhhh…”
He looked up to see her mouth twitch into a small grin, which matched his own. He wished he could be in the dream with her—it seemed like a fantastic time. Gently sliding the remote from her grasp, she started to stir, and he was dismayed he’d interrupted her blissful sleep.
Sophie’s eyes fluttered open. She gave him a dreamy smile. “You’re home.”
“And you’re adorable.” Not taking his eyes off hers, Grant set the remote on the coffee table and nudged down for a kiss. He’d seen the open box of Girl Scout cookies on the table, and wasn’t surprised when she tasted like chocolate mint. Once their lips met, his time apart from her floated away. Each kiss was a reconnection…a homecoming.
Grant gave her some space and she performed a feline stretch, lifting her arms above her head and curling her toes. She yawned. Seeing the TV screen, she frowned. “Aw, I missed the end.”
He smirked. “I’ve got a secret for you, Sophie.” Leaning in, he planted soft kisses along the warmth of her jawline, then murmured in her ear, “The ship sinks.”
She giggled and elbowed him. “Way to spoil it for me.”
“Hardly. How many times have you seen Titanic?”
A blush warmed her face as she sat up. “About ten.”
“That’s thirty-five hours of your life you’re not getting back.”
She scowled. “Stop ragging on my favorite movie! You haven’t even seen it.”
“What’s the point? There’s no suspense there—we all know what’ll happen.”
“It’s not about the suspense. It’s about the romance.” She sighed, her hand fluttering to her heart. “Jack Dawson’s the most amazing character.”
His eyes narrowed. “So this is about Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“He certainly helps my enjoyment of the movie.” A devious smile played on her lips.
He pulled back with a scowl. “I bet you were dreaming about him.”
“What?”
“You were moaning in your sleep earlier. Sexy dream with Mr. Dawson?”
“I…I can’t remember?”
“Right.” He lunged forward, his long fingers snaking under her blouse to tickle her as he adopted a German accent. “You vill tell me your dream!”
She squealed, shirking away from his inciting fingers. “No!”
The tickling increased. When his roving hands made their way to her sensitive bottom, cascading giggles mixed in with her shrieks.
“Tell me, Sophie.”
She gasped for air. “I won’t confess.”
“Ve have vays of making you talk.”
She shivered from his waltzing fingers, and when he gave her a respite, she managed to break free and dart away into the bedroom.
He clicked off the TV and followed closely behind, teasing “As if I vill let you get away so easy.” He found her on the bed, lying on her back, panting, staring up at him with anticipation.
Climbing onto the mattress, he snuggled in next to her, propping up his head with the heel of his right hand as his elbow rested near her ear. “Did you dream about Jack Dawson?” His left hand tickled her soft neck, eliciting her sharp intake of air.
“I’ll never tell.”
His hand snaked up behind her ear, gently lifting her head to bring her closer.
“Mmm,” she sighed, reaching up to cradle his face. “Lay your hands on me, Jack.”
He glowered.
“I mean, lay your hands on me, Grant.”
“That’s better.”
“Lay your hands on me, McSailor.”
She didn’t need to tell him again.
What’s YOUR favorite movie? If you’re a writer, have you referred to the movie in your writing?
Jennifer Lane Books 