The aim of literature [...] is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart." Donald Barthelme
When I read this quote, I had to think if it applied to the romance genre. Some romance authors write paranormal, where the story could feature a young heroine living in a far-distant planet colony who finds a sentient alien fur ball that is so darn cute, she adopts it as a pet and then bawls her eyes out after she lets it lick a spoonful of whipped cream and it suffers a terminal allergic reaction. The alien full ball was about to attack and take over her body, but she doesn't learn that until she and the teenage heartthrob hero compare notes late one night during one of their secret petting sessions.
But I can be less literal and say the aim of a romance is to write a story about two strangers whose rocky (hairy) relationship tugs at your heartstrings until they finally find the path to their HEA.