My historical, Hero of My Heart, will be released Monday, and it has a different kind of hero–in that he is not heroic at all, not when we first meet him. In fact, he is a Marquess who does not wish to have his title, nor even be alive. Here’s the blurb:

When Mary Smith’s corrupt, debt-ridden brother drags her to a seedy pub to sell her virtue to the highest bidder, Alasdair Thornham leaps to the rescue. Of course the marquess is far from perfect husband material. Although he is exceedingly handsome, with a perfect, strong body, chiseled jaw, and piercing green eyes, Alasdair is also too fond of opium, preferring delirium to reality. Still, he has come to Mary’s aid, and now she intends to return the favor. She will show him that he is not evil, just troubled.

Mary was a damsel in need of a hero, but Alasdair’s plan is shortsighted. He never foresaw her desire to save him from himself. Alasdair is quite at home in his private torment, until this angel proves that a heart still beats in his broken soul. The devil may have kept her from hell, but will Mary’s good intentions lead them back to the brink—or to heaven in each other’s arms?

Alasdair is as close to an anti-hero as I could write, and I chose to write him that way because like so many romance readers, I believe that love and compassion can help a person find their way back to happiness. I was fascinated by the idea of a man at the absolute brink of dissolution needing to claw his way back to reality, and I gave him a reason–Mary’s salvation–to do it. Eventually, he replaces his opium addiction with Mary’s sexual healing, but that isn’t enough to absolutely save him. It is only when he is able to give both Mary’s presence and opium up that he is deserving of his own Happy Ever After–and deserving of Mary.

In writing this, I was inspired by Edith Layton’s The Devil’s Bargain (and snagged her hero’s name for mine!), because her hero is tortured by the past, just like my Alasdair, even if he doesn’t end up an opium addict. Of course there have been historicals where the hero is addicted–most memorable is Jo Beverley’s To Rescue a Rogue and of course Mary Jo Putney’s The Rake‘s hero is an alcoholic.

I also wanted to write a classic road story–in fact, the original title of the book was Road to Passion, which a few people pointed out sounded like a Bob Hope movie, which was not the intent, so I changed it. My hero and heroine are together almost through the entire course of the book, are forced together through circumstances and can’t run away from their problems–like Alasdair was trying to do.

All of this makes it sound as though Alasdair and Mary are all Dark and Serious during the course of the book, but both of them have good senses of humor and Mary, in particular, does not hesitate to take Alasdair down a notch or two (and he is highly-notched, let me tell you!).

Do you like books with very difficult heroes? Which are your favorites?

Megan

Hero of My Heart by Megan Frampton

In about a month, my Regency-set historical, Hero of My Heart, will be available for your e-reader of choice. Meanwhile, I’ve just finished the revision of the first draft of What Not to Bare, which is due to my editor next Friday (yay for making a deadline!).

Hero of My Heart is an angsty book, filled with Life-Altering Decisions. What Not to Bare‘s biggest decision is what horrible outfit the heroine will choose to put on–and how the hero will manage to get it off her.

The two books are completely different in tone, and so writing WNTB was refreshing after dealing with the sturm und drang of HoMH. I’m including the description of the–of course!–stunningly gorgeous hero from WNTB:

He was even more stunning the closer he got. From far away, of course she’d noticed his commanding presence and brooding good looks; he’d walked into the room like he owned it, his height and dark hair making him stand out from the shorter, lighter-haired men. Which were all of them. He was the darkest and tallest. And definitely the handsomest.

Up close, she could see his dark eyes, which she’d assumed were brown, were deep blue, like a lake under a full moon. His hair was so dark brown as to be almost black. And his mouth, dear lord, his mouth was sinful to look at, with full lips curled into a knowing smile, which of course meant Charlotte couldn’t look away.

And he was speaking now, which meant she had to stare at his mouth, didn’t it? “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Charlotte. Perhaps you would save me a dance for later this evening?” His voice was low and husky, as though he’d recently recovered from a cough.

Charlotte wanted to giggle at the thought of offering him a poultice for his throat. “Yes, of course, my lord. I would be honored.” She stood silent, feeling as awkward as she ever had. What did a young lady say to such an impossibly handsome man: Goodness, you are lovely. Perhaps you would care to undress so I might compare you against all those statues my mother never wants me to see?

She felt her cheeks flush up a bright red; unlike Emma, Charlotte didn’t get a delicate lady-like blush, but instead looked as though she’d been sticking her face directly into a blazing fireplace.

And next up, I have an entirely different piece of writing, the potential second book to follow my contemporary women’s fiction title, Vanity Fare. Vive la difference (in writing!)

Megan