Katie Holt, author of Not in My Book, chats standards in romance novels

Rosie writes romance novels and listens to Taylor Swift on loop. Aiden is a literary fiction writer who doesn’t believe in happy endings. They’re about to write a book together—what could go wrong? Katie Holt’s debut, Not in My Book, is a swoony and hilarious tale.  

Guest post written by Katie Holt, author of Not in My Book

New York City is not for the weak. I learned this lesson quickly. Not only when people shoulder checked me on the street or when the Duane Reed attendant would roll their eyes at me, but also when I ventured into the cesspool of the New York City dating scene.

Like many young women in their 20s, I had a romanticized vision of New York City. I thought it’d look like a Nora Ephron movie and feel like an Emily Henry book. And sure, it can at times, but there was no Billy Crystal or Charlie Lastra waiting for me on the corner.

Instead, there were mens that forgot to bring their credit cards and conveniently didn’t have Venmo after a long dinner.

It was bleak.

My love for romance bleeds freely from my soul. I wanted exactly what I found in the novels I read since I was a teenager. I’d swipe on Hinge only to be met with such disappointment.

So in 2024, I challenged myself to go on 24 dates. A sporadic date wasn’t working anymore. I needed to take romance in my life as seriously as I did in my writing.

I decided I would just say yes. Even if the man didn’t really seem like my type or we met in a dive bar (which was a less than ideal place to meet the love of my life!), I would go on the date and at least try it out.

It seems counterintuitive that social media would give me hope, but it did. Scrolling through Twitter, it feels like society could’ve turned a new leaf and I’d find a feminist man, not some incel where I’d have to call my sister in a panic to save me. Shouldn’t Gen Z be one of the most progressive generations? In one of the most progressive cities?

That was not the case.

My second date was with a man (I met in a dive bar), who was thirty minutes late to the date. We went to Cafe Reggio in the Village and he brought a box of food from a food truck in Washington Square Park. He was offended when the waitress politely asked him not to eat outside food, rolling his eyes at her. He proceeded to preach to me for an hour. He told me “no one loves women more than me” and he’s “the most pro-choice person I’d ever meet.” My vision was blinded with red flags. On every date, I’d bring up Taylor Swift to gauge their reaction. When I did, he neglected all her charity work and impressive feats, but told me she was overrated and too old to be a popstar. That was my final straw.

I got up and left.

This quest for love was even more difficult as someone who consumed romance novels at a frightening pace and wrote them, too.

I wasn’t really looking for a hero from a Christina Lauren novel, although it would’ve been nice. Truly, all I wanted was someone to laugh with. Someone that was kind to me. Told me he loved me more than he really needed to.

A lot of people, who’ve never read romance novels, think these novels are filled with elaborate professions of love and dozens of red roses strewn across a room. And while that happens at times, a lot of my favorite romance novels can be boiled down to the soft moments of falling in love. Where the hero and heroine are vulnerable with each other, whispering in a dark room.

My family has always expressed their concern in my expectations for love because of my passion for romance novels. That I’d set my standards impossibly high, that I’d be waiting for someone fictional to come around.

But what is fiction if not an escape from reality? And what is fiction if it’s not also grounded in reality, too? I refused to scrape the barrel for the bare minimum because of these novels, but I also set my standards reasonably high.

I don’t need what’s inside the romance novels. But I want someone to make me feel like I am in one.

Not in My Book by Katie Holt is out Jan 9 (Penguin UK)