The first novel I wrote, Jayna Incarnate, was, at heart, a bodice ripper featuring a gorgeous, twenty-something woman who falls into the clutches of a notorious sea captain (feel free to read pirate into that) named Shoale. Wow, was he was a terrific bad guy! A dark, complex, determined alpha male, obsessed with possessing the heroine. The premise of the book was more complex than that, of course, involving time travel and death-defying escapes and true love found in the Scottish highlands. The book, which won an Eppie nomination in the mainstream novels category, is not currently on the market, but I plan to eventually rework it and get it back out there because … did I mention what a delicious bad guy Shoale was? Mackenzie MacAndrews is equally as wonderful in the role of the good guy, but somehow the good guy doesn’t resonate as strongly.
Upon hearing that erotic romances sell well, I wrote nearly a half dozen. In the first of them, an area in a now-wooded area in modern day time was the same place where a horrific Revolutionary war crime occurred. On Halloween evening in 2004, the fabric of the time/space continuum is lifted and a lonely, disconnected woman steps back in time to 1783 and into the life of a man who is haunted by his past, restrained by eighteenth century manners and yet consumed with desire for woman he believes he willed to him.
Another erotic romance was a rather twisted, modern day tale of abduction where the tables eventually get turned. The review from The Romance Studio said the book, ‘will have people talking. What would you do if a man kidnapped you and then went about trying to make every one of your dreams come true?’
Untamed, my newest release, is the authentic reimagining of the legend of Tarzan. Once again, there is a strong, complex alpha male and an abduction and a torrid love scene. Still another of the erotic romances was also abduction for the sake of revenge, because a man believes his true love betrayed him. Anyone sense a recurrent theme in the vicinity? What’s astonishing is that I didn’t see the pattern until I was probably a dozen books in. Of course, once I saw it, it glared right back at me like a crazed, hairy monster. Unblinking. Unrepentant. Insatiable.
As a side note, (and not that I’m disagreeing with the fact that I desperately need therapy) but, in my own defense, I have written books that involved no abductions or forced captivity. Not many of them, but some. And, for as many stories as I’ve created that feature some form of forced captivity, I’ve written even more in which two ‘outsiders’ strive to come together to form a perfect union. At least, I don’t think that’s something I need therapy for.