I am largely a mood-based reader. Autumn is time for a good mystery, winter is for classics, spring is for fantasy/science fiction and summer is for romance. I love a schedule, even for my hobbies.

But this pattern is disrupted in times of personal crisis. When life feels out of my control, when I am grieving and when I am stressed, I pick up a romance novel. The number of books (and romances) I read was higher in 2025 than any year previously.

I’ve thought a lot recently about what makes romance novels appeal to me at difficult moments in my life. I don’t think it is as simple as the “predictability” component, (though I do enjoy a guarantee).

Instead, it’s more that romance novels instill a sense of hope in me. There is hope in love, in happy endings, in resolution. The messiness of the world is neatly tied with a bow. No threads are left in knots, no questions are left unanswered. 

Reading a romance novel, I experience a positive kind of anticipation. I often think of waiting as uncomfortable, a space between actions and events, where I am left without answers and without a path forward. 

And, yes, I experience a romance novel in a state of waiting. But I am not left waiting for the world to fall apart, for a person to die, for something to shatter irrevocably. I am waiting for a happy ending, for love to triumph, for conflicts to resolve.

And that waiting is a key part of hope. At the end of the waiting, my hope is rewarded with a beautiful ending. 

Sure, not every romance novel deserved my 5-star rating. Not every couple was as perfect as I believed. Not every happily ever after made logical sense.

But, romance novels are much more important than we give them credit for. They give us hope, and that hope is a powerful thing.

The views in this column do not necessarily reflect the views of the HiLite staff. Reach Charlotte Moser at [email protected].