One of the perks of being a romance writer is the opportunity to daydream about handsome, sexy men. I have the perfect excuse to sit at my desk, close my eyes, and envision candidates to star in a new story and fill the role of my heroine’s soulmate. Short or tall, light or dark, I know they’ll have muscles in all the right places and be a man I would fall for in a big way – if I wasn’t already happily married to my own Prince Charming.
But when I was writing my latest book, Deadly Memories, I didn’t have to stretch my imagination far to discover the identity of Trish’s dream man. Her college sweetheart was always the man destined to complete her life.
Her former lover, Greg Erickson is no ordinary hero. I write romantic suspense, so most of the men I write about fight for justice and morally or physically struggle with villains. But Greg fights a different kind of struggle. He is a modern hero, fighting cybercrime using his sharp mind and exceptional computer skills, not his fists.
The last time I wrote about Greg, he appeared in Beyond Paradise (Samhain Publishing, 2010) as a teenager smitten with Trish. Between the time of that story and the beginning of Deadly Memories, he went to college, made millions building and selling a computer security company, broke up with Trish, and married another woman. His marriage was typical of the poor choices we all make when we’re young. We know he should have married Trish, but until he was able to star in his own story, he couldn’t see the light.
I loved both Greg and Trish when I wrote about them before and wanted them to have a second shot at happiness. Trish believes her one chance for true love has passed her by and is resigned to a life spent alone. She’s been guarding her heart and focusing on her career. But when she meets Greg again, he’s a mature man, gorgeous and even more of a temptation than in college. The old spark re-ignites, and nature takes its course. If one of them doesn’t get killed as the story progresses, love may have a new chance to flourish.
I enjoyed writing Deadly Memories and bringing Greg and Trish back together, because I’m a hopeless romantic. I firmly believe there is someone in this world for everyone, and when two people are meant to be together, neither time nor past mistakes should keep them apart. He was her perfect mate. And putting them together gave me an opportunity to create a happy ending.
Writing romance has a lot pf perks. The warm feeling I get knowing I’ve told a story about love triumphing despite all odds and two people finding each other despite monumental conflicts, is worth all the hours of hard work that go into the writing of a book.
And now that my characters are happy, I can go back to that other perk. Daydreaming about hunky men I might want to meet in my next story.
Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to be her guest.
A millimeter at a time, his fingers moved to her nape, lightly toyed with her hair.
The interior of the car became totally devoid of oxygen.
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb slowly caressed her jaw, and his eyes took a long, lazy trip over her body. “You’ve matured into a beautiful woman. That dress, and the body in it, drew a lot of male attention tonight.”
Fire licked through her bloodstream. Goose flesh tingled on her arms.
She knew she should bolt for the house, but her feet were cemented to the floor mat. She held her breath. Waited.
His gaze locked with hers. Smoldering. sexy. He was remembering making love in the past. She could see it in the way his pupils glazed, darkened, and dilated.
Her mind flew in a similar direction. That little voice inside her whispered. I still want you.
As if she’d said the words aloud, he smiled devilishly, then leaned over and ever so slowly claimed her mouth.
The rush of sensations brought tears to her eyes. His taste, his warmth, the electric thrill of his lips touching hers. His firm mouth pressing, his tongue probing, her body melting. She clung to him as if their last kiss had been yesterday, as if he was still hers to savor forever.
She wanted to weep for the pleasure, weep for the memories of loss.
He broke the kiss, drew back a bare millimeter. His breath was hot on her skin. He whispered in a voice like dark honey, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”