Holding Out for a Hero - Cowboys

One of the not-so-guilty pleasures in writing romance is writing about men. The opposite gender intrigues us from an early age, and for many of us, is a life-long curiosity. In addition to real life, a romance reader indulges this interest through reading. You meet all kinds of men in the pages of romance novels and fall in love along with the heroine. I think it’s a bit like dreaming in that you can try on different scenarios in a safe space. Maybe you’d never date a bad boy in real life, but in the pages of a book—go for it.

Writers enjoy this experience too. I don’t even have the option of conducting a romance with a medieval knight in my day to day world, but that didn’t stop me from bringing some of these heroes to life on the page so I could imagine my way through the experience. Knights still fascinate me. So do sports heroes, regular guys, and military men. Cops, sheriffs, and billionaires. And now… at last… cowboys.

I may have avoided this much beloved hero for a while because of my background. I grew up on a farm, and I envisioned ranches as a kind of farming operation. Dusty, dirty, and a lot of work. I picked tomatoes often enough as a teen and found it decidedly unromantic. The animals are adorable, but they too, are labor intensive. Time changes some of those perceptions though. Did you ever dislike something as a kid and then look back on it later with a degree of fondness? That nostalgia hit for the family farm a few years ago. Not just ours either, but a whole community of farmers that I remembered from my youth. Much of where I grew up—a place full of small farms—is now full of housing developments. A bedroom community for a nearby city.

As I saw the past through different eyes, I began to feel the tug of ranches. Cowboys. The West. I could see the appeal. I read more about it. Travelled those places. Admired the way of life. When I sat down to write Second Chance Cowboy, I thought I’d just see how it went. And the moment I met Matt Briggs on the page, I knew there was no turning back. I was going to have affair after affair with cowboy heroes. I’m hooked.

It might be the proud, independent streak. The commitment to a time-honored way of life no matter how the world changes around them. The connection to the land. Or it could just be the boots and denim. Kidding. I love all of it and I can’t wait to write more of these heroes in their native habitat and out of it. To explore how they see the world. Because, no matter how many books I write, men still intrigue me. And right now, I’m in a serious cowboy phase.

***What about you? Do you read all sorts of heroes or have a favorite type? Share with me on the Last Chance Christmas, the prequel to my current release, Second Chance Cowboy. 

blog and I’ll give one random poster a download of

A Historical Hero - by Kate Walker

A long long time ago – too many years ago than I care to remember, I  first started to  get to know some of the history plays of Shakespeare.  There was a  television  series called  An Age of Kings  in 1960, one that lasted for 15 weeks, and which showed all  Shakespeare’s history plays one after the other.  One of those plays was Richard III  where Richard was shown as a violent,  cruel and conniving character.  That was how I first thought of him.  But of course Shakespeare was writing the sort of play that would please the royals of his time – the Tudor  dynasty who had  hated Ricard and fought to drive him from the throne.

Then two things happened – one was that I read a book by Josephine Tey called Daughter of Time in which a modern day detective, confined to bed in hospital, set out to investigate the case of those  ‘murdered’ Princes in the Tower as if it was a current day crime. His conclusion was that Richard of Gloucester was not guilty of the crime everyone thinks he committed. 

Then I went to the London Portrait Gallery  -  there I found a painting of the man himself. Richard didn’t look anything like the cruel and violent killed of Shakespeare’s portrayal . His portrait showed a man who was too old for his real years -  Richard was only  32  when he died. That’s the sort of age of so many of my heroes when they are really just beginning their adult lives.   This painting  also made  the  king look like a man worried by life, taking a lot on his shoulders.   He didn’t look like the monster he was painted. 

As a result, for years I’ve been fascinated by this intriguing character.  I read  so many other books – fiction like Sunne in Splendour, We Speak No Treason,  and  factual books  to try and get as cl

ose to the truth as I could.  I even joined the Richard III Society – and when I met my husband, I found that he too was a member of that group, someone who believed that Richard had been maligned.
Daughter of Time in which a modern day detective, confined to bed in hospital, set out to investigate the case of those  ‘murdered’ Princes in the Tower as if it was a current day crime. His conclusion was that Richard of Gloucester was not guilty of the crime everyone thinks he committed.

Back then we never expected that the exciting discovery of ‘The King in The Carpark’ would ever actually happen. We were excited  when the archaeological dig in  - of all places  - a Leicester carpark discovered the remains of  a man, buried there long ago. Even  more exciting, tests and DNA examination proved that this was in fact the skeleton of  Richard III himself,  killed at the Battle of Bosworth and buried hastily in an ancient abbey.  They even managed to do a facial reconstruction to show what he might well have looked like in  life

Last year there was a ceremonial funeral for this long-lost king. He was buried in Leicester Cathedral with the sort of ceremony he never had  back in  1485.   Because of my interest in his story, and my fascination with the man I promised myself – and my husband – that one day we would go and visit the tomb in Leicester Cathedral.  So that’s where I’m going today. 

All those years ago, I never expected that the  king’s remains would be found – the story was always that his body had been thrown into the river and washed away.  So it will a poignant moment to actually see where he is buried. It won’t give me any further evidence as to the truth of who really actually murdered the

Princes in The Tower (if in fact they were actually murdered ) but it will be a special sort of a pilgrimage and a suitable closure to a story that has fascinated me for years.

I am so looking forward to it

Do you have a historical character who fascinates you like this?  Or something that you have  long wanted to do that you have finally managed to achieve? 

You can keep up to date with all my news on my web site blog page  or my Facebook page   where you can find out when I have new books appearing in the shops.

CJ Carmichael: Favorite Heroes From My Story Vault

Writing fifty novels can make you nostalgic. As I’m working on the very last chapters of the book that will mark the fiftieth of my career, I find myself looking back at the stories I’ve written and wondering… Do I have a favorite “type” of hero?

As I peruse the titles displayed so proudly on the bookshelf in my office I realize that in fact, I have 3 favorite types.

1.       The tough as nails, alpha man: In my stories this sort of hero is often a cop or private detective. His role in the story is usually to protect the heroine, or so he thinks. The truth is that he’s the one who is vulnerable—or at least, his heart is. Here is my all my time favorite alpha hero:

In Same Place, Same Time, Detective Morgan Forester is a tough, brave cop whose wife divorced him when she couldn’t deal with the death of their son. In this story his wife is being targeted by a murderer and he needs to protect her. He knows he can keep her safe, but his own heart will be on the line…because he still loves her.

2.       The Honorable Cowboy: Everyone knows cowboys live by a code and that’s what I love about them. They are men who are short on words and big on action. I’ve written about so many cowboys, because I really do love them, so it’s hard to choose a favorite. But I do have a soft spot in my heart for Colton Hart. He’s the black sheep of his family, and oh how he loves to live up to his reputation…until he meets a woman who makes him want to be a better man.

3.       My third favorite type of hero is the prototypical “Dad Next Door” and my favorite of these is the guy who belongs to the book with that exact name. Gavin Gray has known terrible tragedy in his life. Now all he focuses on is making his little daughter happy. But what he thinks his little girl needs isn’t quite right, as you’ll find in this, what I consider one of my most heartfelt stories about a dad.

4.       Okay, I know I said I had three main types of heroes, but let me quickly mention a fourth—the anti-hero. This guy is so cynical he’s sort of checked out of life. But at his core, he is still an honorable man, even though he won’t admit it.

Dougal Lachlan, the principal character in my Twisted Cedar Mysteries certainly fits this bill. He has a huge chip on his shoulder, related to his family history and his father who went to jail for murder. Overcoming this past is a big part of what this trilogy is about.

Thanks for indulging my trip down memory lane. If you’re still with me, I want to mention a new collection of novels whose heroes happen to make terrific fathers. In honor of dads everywhere this Father’s Day Collection of 5 stories by 5 different authors will be available for the price of 1  for June only.

So you’ve heard about me, and my favorite heroes. Now I want to hear from you! Tell me your favorite hero and which of the above books you’d most like to receive in ebook form. A winner will be chosen at random in about 1 week, so check back here to see if your name was chosen!

Happy June and Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!

C. J. Carmichael

The Littlest Hero : : Anne McAllister

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. We're used to dealing with the tall, dark, handsome ones with rock-hard abs, a killer grin or a fierce, brooding stare. And a little hint of stubble on the jaw doesn't hurt.  I spend plenty of days with men like that -- and I love them all.

But many evenings and some holidays and vacations I spend with another hero. His name is Mac.  He is, to misquote Julie Cohen, Not Even Our Dog  (Julie has Not Even Our Cat in her life).  We have Mac in ours.

He came to our friend Nancy's home as a 3 year old after he was rescued by a diligent neighbor from a less than wonderful situation. He was, to put it mildly, a mess.  When we met him he had been shaved to within an inch of his life. He looked awful, but apparently he had looked much worse -- matted and filthy -- before the neighbor stepped in.  She, however, had several dogs of her own, and needed a good home for Mac.

Nancy's home fit the bill.  Nancy is the perfect mother for Mac.  He has always had a mind of his own -- and plans to go with it -- and she has simply learned to deal.

Mac believes in being well-fed.  Nancy thinks he should be fit.  Most of the time they manage both. But when Mac feels short-changed, he is, er, enterprising.  When she came home from church one Sunday, she rang me to say, "He's eaten a whole tray of chocolate-covered macaroons!"  I had trouble believing that.  Not without leaving a crumb. Mac is not that fastidious. Besides, a whole tray of macaroons, particularly chocolate-covered ones, ought to make anyone sick, especially a 25 lb. dog.

I said, "When he stayed with us, and I gave him a rawhide, he didn't eat it. He took it upstairs and buried it in one of the beds." (savaging a sheet in the process).  "Maybe he did that with the macaroons. Check the beds."

Well, only put one in a bed, underneath her daughter's pillow.  H had, very diligently, distributed the rest of them all over her house. She found a macaroon behind the sofa, another behind the chair. There was one tucked under the piano, one down in the basement next to the washing machine.  He was appalled to watch her find them -- and pretty quickly he tried damage control by running ahead of her to rescue them before she could pick them up.

I have found myself wishing ever since that she had security cameras in her house that would have captured his original treks here and there, hiding them all for future consumption! I think it would have made YouTube's top ten!

He has done plenty of other amazing and occasionally heroic (but mostly funny) things in his life.  But his most amazing accomplishment is that he's still with us.

When she got him, the vet told her he had an enlarged heart.  For several years it didn't seem to have any effect on him. But a year ago last August he got a terrible cough.  For such a small dog, his cough sounded like a mastiff imitating a fog horn.  Daunting -- and scary -- to say the least.

It was his heart, the vet said.  He was well into congestive heart failure.  He was only seven.  It was a wrenching thought to consider she might lose him so young.  He coughed on.  And he went on long walks.  He rummaged in the recycled paper looking for wrappers that might be tasty. He coughed. He carried sticks around.  He sat on the back of the sofa and monitored traffic. He coughed.  He walked even longer walks.  He chased his favorite blue ball. And still he coughed.

He survived her trip to Jamestown (he stayed with us), and her trip to Costa Rica (he stayed with us) and visits to her grandkids (he went -- and happily came back to cough some more and go for walks). He began to suffer from edema.  His normally fit body began to sag under the weight of the fluid he was retaining. But still he walked. And rummaged. And ate. The chasing of Blue Ball receded somewhat.  That was difficult.

He soldiered on.  A month ago, he had three pounds of fluid drained. He ran up the steps. He walked.  He considered Blue Ball, but didn't get too much of a thrill out of chasing it.  He dreamed of macaroons.  And the edema continued to plague him.

Yesterday he went back to the vet. This time she drained 8 pounds of fluid -- that's 1/4 of his body weight! -- a gallon.  And he ran up the steps when he came to visit last night.  He continues to have great joy in life.

We know he's not going to have many more weeks, months, years left.  We're astonished he has had as much as he has (so is the vet).  But we are all grateful for his presence.  He is a hero, dealing with the not very nice hand that he's been dealt, and doing so with aplomb and a joie de vivre that I personally hope that I can emulate.

I've celebrated dogs and cats in many blog pieces in various places over the years -- often in remembrance of a life well lived and deeply loved.  In this case it seems fitting to celebrate Mac whose life is still a Work In Progress.

He just may have a hero named after him before long.  That hero will have a lot to live up to.

Anne's latest, The Return of Antonides, Lukas's story, was out last month from Harlequin Presents and Harlequin Mills & Boon Modern.

Non-Interview With A Hero

It's always a challenge as a book is releasing to find fresh angles for blog posts. Today I thought maybe I'd interview my hero, Roman Killian, from Vows Of Revenge. As soon as I started, however, I knew how it would go.

Me: How are you, Roman?

Him: Fine.

Me: Would you like to tell the readers a bit about your background? Why did you have a grudge against Melodie's family?

Him: No comment.

Me: But what about--

Him: I have a call to take. Excuse me.

Roman was a difficult hero to write, to be honest! Not only is he a security specialist with a locked down life, he was a foster child who never had control over his own backstory, let alone his front one. His mother's attempt to feed him by selling herself was the reason he was put into care and it tarred him the rest of his childhood. His history was reduced to a few pages in a folder that was shared with strangers without his permission. No wonder he's willing to help others keep their privacy in tact!

He later winds up learning to hack computers, gets arrested, and is helped/hired--he thinks exploited--by a security specialist who really gives him an education. This results in his writing a type of security software that has the potential to change his life. Unfortunately, he trusts the wrong investors, Melodie's brother and father. They steal it, threaten to claim he hacked the software if he goes to the police, then give him a sound beating for good measure.

It takes years, but he rallies. He's on the verge of annihilating them through old-fashioned competition when Melodie crosses his path. He's certain her flirting is a set up so she can spy on her father's behalf.

Except, Melodie hates her father as much as Roman does. I knew I wanted him to seek revenge against someone who was totally innocent. I love that moment when a hero realizes he has screwed up, bad. I also love those moments when a heroine knows she's being a fool, falling for this cad, but she has no willpower.

Here's a snippet from Melodie's point of view as she faces that maybe she doesn't hate Roman quite as much as she should, even though she really doesn't know him, and definitely knows better!

~ * ~

I knew that day in the limo that you weren’t really like them. I just…”

“Still hate me.”

“I’m trying to. If I don’t, then you’ll—”

“What?” he prompted quickly, demeanor changing.

He knew. She blushed and had to look away.

A muted noise sounded and they both looked to the clutch where she’d set it next to her glass. Her mobile vibrated inside it.

“Trenton is wondering where I am,” she guessed, then made a face, feeling as though she was with a friend after all, she supposed, because she found herself saying a very uncharitable, “I should text back that I’m 'being nice' to you.”

The banked sexual awareness between them flared like the catch of a match.

“That wasn’t—” she hurried to say.

“I know.” He sounded as though he was laughing at her, making her shoot a scowl his direction. “I’m not going to make another unwelcome pass, Melodie. No matter how much I want to.”

Which was a pass in itself, she noted dryly, but managed to say, “Good.” Even though she was suddenly reluctant to accept that. Her mind was expanding with one ballooning thought. What would it be like now, when they’d set aside the misjudgments and animosity?

“I should go,” she said briskly. Before she lost her mind.

“I’ll walk you down.”

“You don’t have to.” She picked up her clutch and headed toward the door.

He pocketed his room key off the bar and followed her. “Better if we both reappear without looking flushed and disheveled.”

“Right.” Flushed. Disheveled. Skin damp and whole body tingling in the aftermath of orgasm. That would be bad. “Yes,” she affirmed. “You’re probably right.”

“Only probably? Don’t give me an opening, Melodie. I will take it,” he said.

They stood at the door, his hand on the latch, his white shirt and black jacket filling her vision.

“An opening for what?” She was playing dumb, not like her at all.

His mouth lifted at one corner, knowing. “I said I wouldn’t make an unwelcome pass,” he said, then touched her chin, gently forcing her to tilt up her face until she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “If this is not welcome say so now.”

His touch was bringing her to life in ways she had thought were manifestations of an overactive imagination.

“I keep wondering—”

He covered her mouth and she knew. They were every bit as volatile as before. They stepped into the kiss with synchronicity, her arms going over his shoulders, his hands sliding to her lower back, pulling her hips into his. In heels she was eye level with his mouth and they both moaned with pleasure at how perfectly they fitted together.

The buzz sounded again from inside her purse.

They broke away.

She threw the clutch toward the sofa, missing. It hit the floor and slid while they stepped into tight contact again, lips meeting without hesitation or clumsiness. Her same distant thoughts of how and why penetrated, but she honestly didn’t care. He was the man who did this to her. She couldn’t turn away now that it had started. And there was no evidence of his trying to slow down things as his fingertips dug into her buttocks and he rotated to press her into the door.

~ * ~

It's not HEA from there. Roman keeps a lot of secrets! And for a woman like Melodie, who doesn't bond easily in the first place, this is a difficult relationship no matter how great the sex is. They still have a long ways to go.

Do you like the strong, silent type? What about a revenge romance? Do you love the comeuppance?

If you'd like Roman's full story, Vows Of Revenge goes on sale Tuesday, the 18th. You can pre-order here:

Amazon: US | CA | UK | AUS
Nook | Kobo | iBooks | BAM | GooglePlay | Harlequin | Mills & Boon

Why I love a Warrior Hero by Michelle Styles

There is something about me which does love a warrior, particularly a battle-scarred warrior. I like exploring a psyche which has gone through a baptism of fire.  Battle inevitably dehumanises people. People have to behave in ways that might be honourable in war, but are not necessarily honourable in normal life. When they step outside the bubble which war creates, they have to confront their old life. Or at the very least encounter people who have not been through the hell they have suffered.

 Once someone has gone through a battle, they are forever changed. The innocence is gone.  They have experienced death. They may have killed.  They have seen people be killed.  They may have lost a limb or be marked in some way. They may be in constant pain because of their injuries. And they may have learnt that while physical injuries heal, mental anguish can continue unabated.

 They have to ask - -why did I survive? Why (perhaps) did my best friend die? Why did someone I thought better than me die? Could I have done more to save him? Could I have done more to save people who depended on me?

For me, my warrior heroes are not coming from an easy place but as they get to know the heroine and fall in love with her, they inevitably find their humanity returns. His growing love for her means that he can long for a life which is different from the one he has known. He can also worry that his growing love makes himself vulnerable in away he wasn’t vulnerable before and to a warrior, being vulnerable can be a fate which leads to death.

I also love the fact that warriors are inevitably self-made men. A warrior can inherit titles, prestige and wealth. His father or grandfather might have been great. But a warrior is only as good as his fighting ability.  He has to prove himself. I find these sorts of heroes are more interesting as they have done beyond being born to deserve their good fortune.

Good warriors are also intelligent. They have to be able to understand the intricacies of battlefield strategy, for instance. They also have to know how to work with other people. One warrior cannot stand alone against a hundred but several warriors working together can. History is littered with examples.

A warrior believes in something. He has some reason to fight. He has a code of conduct. It might not be something we would want to adhere to today but it exists for him.  With my heroes, before I started writing Viking warriors, I had to be clear in my own mind that my heroes were not into raping women. They had their own code and knew where the lines were drawn. This is not to say that others did not indulge, just simply that I had to be able to write a warrior that I could fall for.

Do why do I love a warrior? Because they are complicated but rewarding. And they stand the test of time.

Michelle Styles writes warm, witty and intimate historical romances for Harlequin Historical. Her latest Return of the Viking Warrior is out now. Her next book Saved by the Viking Warrior will be out in September 2014.You can learn more about Michelle and her books on www.michellestyles.co.uk

What’s in a Name, part II :: Anne McAllister

Last month, you may recall, I asked for suggestions for my upcoming herione’s name.  There were lots of great ones – thank you very much. She turned out to be Eleanor, called Nell, thanks to Mary Preston. 

This month, I thought I would share with you an ongoing discussion I had with the marvelous Anne Gracie about names for heroes.  This began when she started writing her Brides series with The Autumn Bride and wanted to call her hero Charles.

I have no big problem with Charles. I wrote about a hero called Charlie myself. But Charles sounds sort of bland to me. Especially for the man she was writing about. 

Anne’s hero seemed edgier than a Charles, bigger than a Charles (my grandfather, Charles, was not a big man, so I have a precedent for the name).  I suggested, pleaded, begged, sighed and moaned -- and eventually he became Max. He’s a wonderful Max. It’s a wonderful book.

And then she started on the second book, the one about Damaris, the Chance “sister” who came from China where her father had been a missionary.  Damaris has pain and secrets and, above all, she needs a strong hero. 

“So,” I said, “who’s this hero going to be?”

And Anne said, “You already know him. It’s Freddy.”

Freddy? I said. What kind of name is that for a hero?

The rest is history – and here is Anne to tell you about it:

Freddy? What kind of name is that for a hero?

That's what Anne McAllister told me a year ago when I first told her who the hero was going to be in the second book of my 'Chance sisters'  series.

"Freddy? she said. "You can't have a hero called Freddy."

"Watch me," I told her.

Anne McA and I have been writing buddies for more than a dozen years. It started when I (an Australian) set a contemporary romantic comedy in Montana. Anne McAllister practically owns Montana. "Send me this story," she said. "I'd like to see an Aussie write about Montana."

I did. She liked it. She corrected a couple of small mistakes I'd made, and we've been good friends and writing buddies ever since. We email and talk on the phone, brainstorming and chatting, and we send each other bits to read and critique. We're respectful of each other's writing —we like each other's writing — but neither of us pulls our punches: if we think something doesn't work, we'll say so. You're no kind of writing friend if you pretend something works when it doesn't.

Which brings us back to my hero. "Freddy?" she said. "What kind of name is that for a hero?"

We generally agree on what kind of a hero we like. Strong, honorable, masterful, kind, often wounded deep down, but refusing to show it — that kind of hero. We've had disagreements on hero names before, and usually she's convinced me. Charles is not a hero name. And neither is Freddy.

Freddy, she insisted was a name for a secondary character, a lightweight, a frivolous, entertaining rattle.

And really, she's right. My Freddy is all of those things. I suspect his name was inspired by Georgette Heyer's Freddy in Cotillion.

My Freddy first makes an appearance as a secondary character in The Autumn Bride. He's an elegant, careless, frivolous rake, with a horror of marriage and muffins -- not the edible kind. In his own words:

"A muffin is dull, earnest, generally plain—though occasionally you’ll find one lurking behind a pretty face—and is bent on marrying a fellow and making his life a misery. Reforming him. Forcing him to do Good Works and attend Improving Talks.” He shuddered.

So he's not the strong, silent, tortured alpha kind of hero. He's very much the beta-type and is everything AMcA said a Freddy would be — an entertaining rattle who nobody takes too seriously. He's a frivolous rake who aims to stay that way.

As sole heir to his father's title and fortune, not to mention his own private fortune, he'd been a target for match-making mamas and daughters since he'd first appeared in society. From the beginning he'd made it clear he had no interest in marriage, and once he realized respectable mamas and daughters avoided rakes like the plague, he'd done his best to encourage his reputation as a rake to grow. 

But in the last year or so his mother had apparently informed the mothers, aunts and grandmothers of every eligible female in the kingdom that he was contemplating marriage —she might as well have put a notice in The Gazette, curse her!—and as a result, wherever he went, muffins popped out of the woodwork.

He wasn't contemplating marriage, dammit! Not with anything other than horror.

And don't we know, as romance readers, that them's fightin' words. When a hero swears off marriage in the strongest terms, we just know he's heading for a fall — of the most delicious sort.

You can't have a hero called Freddy?

Just watch me.

*********

The Winter Bride by Anne Gracie

coming April 1st 2014

So what do you prefer, the alpha kind of strong silent tough wounded hero? Or do you sometimes enjoy a change of pace with a beta guy? Who's your favorite beta-hero in romance?

Anne's giving away a copy of the Winter Bride to someone who leaves a comment

**********

ps:  Me, again. Anne McA.  Just so you know – she pulled it off. Freddy is a magnificent hero. And yes, there will be a copy of Freddy’s book, The Winter Bride,  for some lucky person who makes a comment.  Will post here later this week who the winner is so you can get in touch with me. Thanks, all. And thank you to Anne Gracie – and Freddy!

**************

UPDATE!!!!   Anne Gracie has chosen JULIE as the winner of a copy of her book, The Winter Bride.  Julie, if you will please email me at anne.mcallister (at) gmail.com, giving me your mailing address, Anne or I will send your book out to you. Thank you to everyone else for your comments, too. Freddy looks forward to meeting all of you between the pages!

The Perfect Man For Everywoman

By vagueonthehow

I've just started writing a new single title. It's at such an early stage I haven't even decided on a working title yet, but I already had a pretty good idea of my hero's attributes before I sat down at the keyboard. As always, I based the best bits of his character on my lovely OH. That leaves me free to indulge my fantasies, and dream up a hero who's gorgeous to look at as well as a real Alpha male.  That means tall, dark, handsome, preferably with tousled hair.  Of course, he's got to be well muscled with a good broad chest (heroines for the comforting of). The funny thing is, that description sounds like my OH, too. That's the point where I start trawling the Internet to add a little variation to my mental images. My daughter has a thing for Ian Somerhalder, so he was first up on my inspirations board under the heading "hero". Pretty hunky, huh?

Then, while I was drafting this blog I had Classic FM playing online. Their home page featured a photomontage of a recent performance of Parsifal with Jonas Kaufmann in the title role. Now, I don't care for Wagnerian opera, but the photograph of Jonas having his clothes torn off by a bunch of wicked women (all in character, of course!) almost made me a convert. Oh, yes, and Jonas sings like a hero, too.
Here's a clip - at first I thought it was floodwater sloshing around their ankles, but to judge from the state of those bedclothes, they must have Ribena on draught...

It's going to take a bit of work to track down a likely picture of a heroine for him. His Cinderella is an unhappy girl who has got into the habit of eating to get herself through life's ups and downs. Then a life changing experience leaves her destitute. She could solve all her problems in an instant by selling her home to our hero (above) but disaster changes her. After being betrayed by her ex-boyfriend, she's assumes he's trying to trick her. At first she can't see past our hero's battle-hardened public image at first, and in any case she's too stubborn to take his money. That would be too easy!  It's only when she glimpses the real man behind the mask that she decides a compromise might work - but only on her terms. He's not a man to see a woman starve, though, so there are going to be fireworks. I'm visualising a twenty-five year old Dawn French while I write, but as I can't find any suitable pictures of her, there's currently a gap on my inspirations board under "heroine".

Have you got any  suitable candidates? There's a signed copy from my backlist for the best suggestion!

Christina Hollis has written both Historical fiction and Modern Romance/Presents for Harlequin Mills and Boon Ltd, as well non-fiction for national magazines and prize-winning short stories. Her current release, Lady Rascal is available for download from  Amazon, iTunes  and many other retailers. Christina loves to hear from readers - you can contact her through her website or her blog.

Guilty Heroes - Kathleen O'Brien

Forgive and forget.


Great words. Words to live by, to love by. But pretty tough to follow.

I was thinking about them today, as I worked on my new novel. My hero and heroine are facing some difficult issues. In the past, he was a rat. She’s burned and bitter. Now what? Can I get them beyond this barrier?

Ironically, a romance novel is only about a third "romance." (I made that number up, of course.) Most of the book is about conflict. It's not a sweet, sexy list of little blue diary entries covered in hearts and exclamation points. It's an exploration of a couple’s struggle to overcome the obstacles that stand between them and a happy ending.

So, paradoxically, the best romances are the ones in which those hurdles are really big and bad. But there's the hitch. How bad is too bad? Is there something a hero could do that you, as a reader, couldn't forgive? Is there that one action that's an absolute deal breaker?

Think about Daphne du Maurier’s timeless classic, Rebecca, for instance. Max de Winter…. No, wait. Should I issue a spoiler alert, even though it came out in 1938? Well, here it is: If you haven’t read it, stop here. I’m going to reveal the ending.

Max KILLED his first wife. As in murdered. Really. Not falsely accused, not an accident, not an over-active guilty imagination. Gun. Shoot. Dead.

I’ve loved Rebecca for half my life. It has always had (and always will have) a place on my bookshelf-right next to the picture of my brilliant, sharp-minded mother, who introduced me to it.

When I first read the novel, as a teenager, I completely accepted that the black-hearted Rebecca had manipulated Max into shooting her, and he wasn’t really to blame. When I re-read it decades later, though, I wasn’t so sure. Something hard inside me just wouldn’t melt.

Then I realized that my only reason for not forgiving him as easily was completely illogical. I wasn’t feeling merciful because he was such a thoughtless beast to his naïve and vulnerable new wife.

Yes, he’s haunted. Yes, he hates himself. But why couldn’t he be nice to the poor girl? If only he’d said, just once, “Look, honey, I know I’m moody as hell and hard to live with. But it’s not your fault.” That might have helped. But he didn’t. He just kept brooding and barking and making her feel like dirt, which her “companion,” Mrs. Van Hopper, had already been doing for years.

And that’s when I realized I could maybe, just maybe, forgive him for snapping once, fatally, under the pressure of Rebecca’s manipulation. But I could not forgive his self-indulgent, bad-tempered, day-in-and-day-out cruddy behavior toward the second Mrs. de Winter.

Illogical, but there you are. Being unkind to the innocent new wife was the deal-breaker for the grown-up me—not the murder of the first one.

What is it for you? Infidelity? Violence, gambling, drinking, lying? Not being there when the heroine needs him? Not caring as much about her as he does about work or money or keeping up with the Joneses? Not respecting her family? Being distant or unkind to her children?

All of the above? Where is that line in the sand...the one even the best writer can't coax you to step over?