Readers sometimes come to me, utterly head-over-heels in love with one or more of my heroes and wanting to know why they are suddenly obsessed when they’ve never been obsessed with anyone else’s characters before. “It’s only a story!” they tell me. “Why can’t I get him out of my head?”

I’ve got a good idea as to why this is.

I’ve never written a hero who strictly follows the rules. I’ve never breathed life into a character who was afraid to break the speed limit if he felt he had to or get into a fight to defend what was important to him. The men in my stories are the kinds of men I sometimes wish every male on the planet was: smart, strong, kind, deep-down good, tough as nails, empathic, and sexy as hell.

The world is not colored inside the lines. It was created in chaos, and entropy more or less rules. It takes a constant, exhausting kind of vigilance to carve out any kind of meaningful existence on this planet. It takes someone willing to go the distance – someone who will never give up, no matter how tough the going gets. Women are really intelligent. We know that for a romance to survive, it will take a man capable of carrying his own weight and sometimes carrying ours as well. Hell, life gets hard.

So when my readers crack the spine of one of my books (or power up their Ereaders, as the case may be) and find themselves learning about tall, physically strong men with a high tolerance for pain but an empathy for the pain in others, they are understandably intrigued. They continue reading to learn that these men are fast on their feet, quick-thinking, capable, and dependable. Reading further… the men smell good – like leather and aftershave. They never have bad breath. They notice the little things and realize how important they are. But best of all – and this is the kicker – these heroes, these good guys, are willing to be bad.

They’re rule breakers, hell raisers, and “fallen angels.” They’re three-dimensional, fathomless personalities with detailed histories, bone-deep desires, and individual tastes that speak to our own hearts. They feel strongly about what is important to them – and for these men, who are all about inner strength and power to the core – that sometimes means pushing the envelope, breaking boundaries, and doing what needs to be done. Rules be damned.

That’s why my men are so attractive. That’s why we get hot chills when their eyes burn into the women they love. It’s why we fan ourselves when one of them grabs his girl’s wrist, walks her to his bike, and tells her to get on and hold tight. It’s why our breath catches when he fists his hand in his soul mate’s hair to expose the pale column of her throat. No one likes a goody-two-shoes. There’s no place in this world – or our hearts – for men who are wimps. Our heroes must move through the night, silent and deadly. They need to strike fast and bite deep. The men we lust over are wicked warriors.

And our good guys always wear black. 😉

[Ed. I have a copy of Avenger’s Angel for someone who leaves a meaningful comment or question for Heather today!]