Hi Everyone! My latest Eclipse Heat title is rolling out next Friday, March 8th. I am so excited. Charlie Wolf McCallister is one of my favorite tough men in the series. And that leads me into my reader question today.
Edge Grayson, my hero in River’s Edge ( available here) is a sweet, shy and gentle hero though he’s a retired gunslinger. Charlie Wolf McCallister, on the other hand, is arrogant, domineering, and well, he’s not gentle.
So how do you like your heroes? Tough or Tender?
As an author of both, I’m curious about what readers like in their heroes. Leave a comment and tell me what you prefer–and go in the drawing for an ecopy of River’s Edge.
Charlie Wolf is half Kiowa, all bounty hunter and a no-nonsense man—until he meets a schoolteacher with cornflower-blue eyes. After marauding outlaws attack Naomi’s school and kidnap her students, she’s desperate and will do anything to rescue them, even seduce the best tracker in Texas to secure his help.
Naomi offers one night of sexual favors, underestimating the power of Charlie’s predatory charm and his determination to claim her as his mate. She’s impatient with his decisions, questions his authority and generally ignores his warnings. But she melts in Charlie’s arms when he makes love to her.
Blood is spilled, past murder avenged, desperadoes captured and lust assuaged as the two set out to rescue Naomi’s young ladies.
A Romantica® historical Western erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
“There’s a catch basin of water down below. Bathe.” He handed her linen and a bar of soap.
Grateful for the chance to soak, she left comment about his dictatorial behavior for another time and hurried to the water.
“Watch out for snakes,” he advised.
Naomi didn’t like snakes or other slithering critters but she did like being clean, so she watched her step, shed Charlie’s clothes and plunged in the water, wallowing like a kid in the semi-warm pool. Her hair hung in rough strands that would become snarled balls when dry. She worked ineffectually at one tangle until she felt his gaze on her.
“I wish my hair was straight like yours,” she muttered.
He held out his hand, indicating it was time for her to quit the water.
“Just gawk at something else besides me,” she told him, exasperated at his boldness when he didn’t look away. She covered her breasts with one arm, her triangle of lower curls with the other and grimaced at him as she emerged.
He snorted at her attempt at modesty and wrapped the blanket around her, rubbing the drying cloth across her hair. Then he handed her a tin.
“Work that into the snarls, then rinse it out of your hair.”
“What’s in it?” she asked suspiciously, sniffing the mixture. It smelled like him, or at least the spicy wood scent she associated with him.
“Bear grease.” He grunted impatiently. “Now rub it on your hair.”
It was odd how right away her hair felt different. It hung in soft wet strands that felt like silk when she rinsed his concoction from her head.
“It feels like when I was a child and rinsed my hair in rain water.” She let her hands play down the silken length and looked at him doubtfully. “Bear grease?”
“No. My mother makes it for me to use on my hair,” he growled.
She’d noticed how shiny his hair was. “It’s indecent for a man to have hair that hangs down his back and is prettier than a woman’s.” The tart words escaped her before she could stop them. Then she fastened on the important part of his sentence, excusing her own rude comment.
“You have a mother?” She was surprised. He didn’t look like a man with a mother, let alone one who made him beauty products for his hair.
“Did you think I was born in a cave with wolves?” He capped the tin and stuck it in his pocket.
“Does your mother live with the Kiowa tribe?” she asked politely, ignoring his sarcasm because frankly, she could picture him in a cave with wolves.
“My mother is Rachel McCallister of the MC3 Ranch. She’s a white woman, like you.” While she digested that information, he did one of his silent maneuvers, moving much closer, leaving Naomi very conscious of his nearness.
“Sun ointment—should make your face quit burning.” She could feel the heat from his body as he rubbed a different salve on her cheeks.
His nearness and gentle application of the medicine flustered her. No one had taken care of her since her sister had left. Naomi had grown up taking care of others. Now this man leaned over her and squinted as he dabbed another kind of cream on her cheeks.
“It does soothe the burn.” She couldn’t resist touching his hand as he carefully applied the balm to her burned cheeks. “Why are you being nice to me?”
She suspected that Charlie Wolf never made a move that didn’t benefit him, but at this moment she didn’t care. It was wonderful that he was showing her kindness during the day.
“Your skin’s too chapped. I want it soft under my lips when I taste you,” he drawled.
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