Yes. I really do. Lots of people find love every day, not just the romantic kind, but every kind. For example: The adoration of a dog (there's nothing like it, and it's as true and pure as anything on this Earth); the absolute trust of a wide-eyed, smiling baby as you lift him into your arms; the acceptance of dear friends who know your secrets and your sins and love you anyway; and it's the sure knowledge harbored by your almost teenaged son that no matter how much grumpty-grump he throws your way, you will not smother him in his sleep.
True love, the pure distillation of joyful and unselfish acts, unfolds every day in every life. It's in those small moments, moments we might skip right by because we're busy, or we dismiss because they do not fit into our Big, Perfect Idea of Love.
I had a conversation with someone recently who said he didn't believe in true love. Love is a fantasy. I disagree. Love, like anything in our lives, is what we create by words, by deeds, by faith. It's taking the step off the cliff without knowing where we'll land. It's saying to another person: I'll take your hand and walk with you and see where the road takes us.
True love might not be forever love. It might a minute, a day, a lifetime. It might shine brighter in memory than in reality. It might be a singular moment when two people passing by each other share a smile. Maybe it's tucked inside the soft exhilaration of a kiss. Or maybe it's enjoying the beauty of a crisp December day and simply feeling to-the-core contentment.
I write romance novels because I enjoy writing about the tumultuous journey of two people falling in love. Yes, romance novels are fantasies. But love is real. True love exists. It's up to you to define it ... and to claim it.