The perfect erotic-romance hero...does he really have to be?

I was just going through reader comments on Smart Bitches about those perfect male physiques in erotic romance novels and some of the reader complaints totally struck a chord with me. Do we really need all our heroes to be over six feet tall with chiseled features and the musculature of a body builder?

I've tried to make my male leads attractive without classically perfect looks (Marcus, my hero in Cat's Game, sees himself as generally unattractive, "Sharp features that included the ultimate Roman nose, courtesy of his Italian grandfather, did not make him the most photogenic man and his character tended toward curt and demanding rather than charming. Dates had been far harder to get in his college days." Of course, my heroine still thinks he's the hottest thing since habanero peppers.) But I must admit I haven't dared stray too far from the typical alpha male romantic lead.

No longer! I'm finally going to be brave and step outside the safety zone. In my current project, my hero is (gasp!) short. I really LOVE short guys and have been itching to write about an undersized hero for ages. I'm only a little over five feet myself so have had the pleasure of dating men of all sizes, and I can tell you from personal experience that short guys are great. They often have a cocky arrogance and forceful charm that is very appealing. Call it a Napoleon Complex if you will, but I think short guys are more likely to use their wits and words to stand out of the crowd because they can't rely on sheer physical presence. And a man who can use wits and words to good effect makes me go all toasty and tingly—much more readily than the big, strong, silent type.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed (a real challenge while trying to produce a novel) and hoping against hope that my editor doesn't ask me to change my short-dark-and-handsome hero into the expected oversized hunk.

What do you say? Are you with me on this?

New Release - Cat's Game

My latest novel is now available at Ellora's cave:

A powerful man with a dangerous secret, a beautiful woman desperate to steal what he's hiding…

The game begins when Jan breaks into Marcus Damon's New York hotel room and ends up with both more and less than she'd planned. Marcus, the brilliant scientist and ruthless businessman behind Damon Laboratories, pulls her into a raw sexual encounter that leaves her physically satisfied but without the data she's been hired to steal. After passion turns to intimacy and then betrayal, the game becomes more dangerous than either player expected.

When two predators play cat and mouse, they both lose…or they both win.

Excerpt:

Jan hesitated by the bedroom door but, reassured by the continuing snores, she ventured closer to the bed. She had been watching this man from a distance for four days, trailing him from breakfast to bedtime. She couldn't help but be intrigued by his tall, powerful figure and appreciated the opportunity for a closer inspection. He might be a fool but he was an attractive fool. His face managed to hold a lean, hard look even in sleep when the tousled dark curls softened his wide brow and strong nose. The white sheet had slipped down and she could admire his muscular arms and bare chest. The curve of one hip peeked out from under the blanket and a dusting of dark curls reached up toward his belly button.

Jan licked her lips, imagining her mouth pressed against that sensitive spot. She wondered if he would moan out loud if she were to blaze a trail of hot, wet kisses down his belly and along the edge of that barely decent sheet. With a small shrug of regret she scanned his half naked form one last time. Marcus Damon looked, smelled and probably tasted perfectly delicious, but he was a mark and it was time for her to disappear.

She stepped away from the bed and suddenly her wrist was captured by an iron grip. There wasn't even time for a muffled yelp before she was sent flying onto the mattress. The next thing she knew Marcus Damon's dark eyes were boring down into hers, his large frame pinning her to the bed. Having been caught in the middle of a lusty day dream about the very body that now lay on top of her, Jan was too off-balance to even fight. His right hand came up, grabbed her chin and turned her face into the faint light coming through the open patio door.

"It seems I have a little black kitten prowling around in my room." His lips quirked up into a small smile. "A very pretty, little kitten."

She scowled up at him and tried to squirm away from his weight, pushing up at him with her free hand. A kitten! Of all things to call her. At thirty-three Jan considered herself well past the kitten stage. The squirming only seemed to amuse him. He brushed strands of errant long, dark hair away from her face.

"Now, what might you be wanting…here…in the middle of the night?"

Jan switched tactics. Her bunched muscles softened and she melted against him. The arm that had been trying to push him away, snaked around his shoulder and began to stroke his back.

"Why you, of course," she murmured in her most sultry voice.

"Don't you think a black negligee would have been more appropriate attire for a seduction than this?" He ran a hand down over her black turtleneck. "But perhaps you're wearing something more attractive underneath?" He tugged her shirt up and smiled as her lacy black bra came into view. "Ah, yes, that's better." A big hand began to knead her breast.

Jan gasped as a surge of wet heat hit her crotch. She was a damn idiot for letting herself respond but Marcus Damon was exactly the sort of man she was attracted to-lean, muscular, not too pretty and arrogant as all hell. His predatory smile intensified at her involuntary gasp. He bent his head and took possession of her mouth. The kiss was as rough as his handling of her body and clearly meant to be a punishment. A demanding tongue forced it's way between her partially opened lips and he invaded her mouth, taking possession.

Jan responded by softening even further, welcoming his angry invasion. She buried a hand in his curls and lifted her hips. Slowly she rubbed against the growing bulge in his groin with deliberate provocation. Dexterous fingers had freed one of her nipples from the bra and now he squeezed hard enough to make her whimper. She forced him out of her mouth and bit his lip, not enough to draw blood but making sure it would hurt. He growled and began to gnaw at her lips like a hungry wolf. They fought with darting tongues and nipping teeth. It was many glorious minutes later when he pulled away from the kiss.

She smiled sweetly up at his glaring face, knowing she had turned the tables on him and swamped his anger with an unexpected lust. His naked body, still anchoring hers in place on the bed, revealed exactly aroused he was at that moment.

Paranormal Overload?

I was in Chapters the other day, hanging out in my usual haunt - the fantasy/SF section beside the Starbucks cafe (walls full of books and a chai latte in my hand, life does not get much better than that) - and it hit me how many vampire/witch/werewolf books there are on the shelves. The question I'd like to ask you all is, have we hit paranormal overload? Are people getting tired of tormented but sweet undead heroes, wise-cracking witches and half-wild werewolves? My witch/werewolf novel, In A Dark Embrace, has certainly been a big hit. It out-sold my fantasy stories (Healer's Price and Demon Master) and science fiction novella (Taking Chances) by significant margins. But sales have dropped off recently and it makes a writer wonder what the appetite is for more in this vein. I have started a historical vampire novel (well, sort of vampire, I'm bringing a very different twist to the standard vampire role) and I need to know if it is worth pouring more effort into this story. Or, maybe, paranormal is still the way to go. People like the familiar mixed in with the new. Witches, werewolves and vampires are well-known archetypes, with a rich store of legends from which to draw out character traits, behaviors, limitations and strengths. There is a broad "common knowledge" about such characters, and what they can and cannot do, which makes it easy for readers to relate to them. At the same time, the supernatural world is wonderfully mutable. Many writers have adopted aspects of these ancient stories and taken them down strange, twisty tangents into surprising new territory. Personally, I love this kind of stuff - old stories stirred into something new, a well-known character type shifted into a unique shape. But I also know that readers can get tired and frustrated when too many books have been focused on the same characters/themes for too long (I hit burn-out with Arthurian legends several years ago and still refuse to open a book that even hints at another retelling of the Arthur/Guinevere story). So, all you readers out there, have you had your fill of blood-sucking, spell-casting, or shape-shifting heroes and heroines? Is the paranormal stuff getting as cold as a vampire's crypt...or is it still hotter than a witch's cauldron?