(The paragraph about zippered lips is not related to the movie, but I left it in there because it is vintage Dad H advice.)
The funny thing is that when we do get to watch movies together, I am often the one who can’t stomach it. I clearly remember one year when I was visiting after Christmas. It was almost New Year’s. We started a movie, and a few minutes in, I said, “I can’t watch this one. It’s too cheesy.” He said, “Oh, that’s just because enough time has elapsed since Christmas that you’re starting to lose the Christmas spirit.” Touché, Dad.
In 2017, we were watching one—I can’t even remember which—and my dad started fretting over how it was going to turn out. I was like, “Well, I guarantee they’re going to end up together.” Then I took a stab at figuring out how the HEA would unfold in that particular movie. I was, of course, correct. (This is a skill one develops as a romance novelist and not at all a knock on the genre. Romance is genre fiction that is often based on tropes and is therefore “predictable,” but I will fight anyone who means this as a slur.)
That night, in my parents’ guest room, I started thinking, Hmm…I wonder if I could write something in the vein of these movies, except in book format. And with more snark. And steam. (I can’t help it; I am who I am.) And lo, A Princess for Christmas was born. My only regret is that because of the pandemic, I won’t get to visit my dad for Christmas, and he won’t get to make the rounds “rearranging” bookstores. But I anxiously await the texts.