Romance author Lora Leigh shares how she finds inspiration for her hunky male leads. Her latest book, Ultimate Sins, is on sale now.
Television. The movies. A particular book.
Or when you see a man jogging in the park, sweat sheening his dark flesh as he runs with a steady, powerful stride, wearing nothing but sneakers and jogging shorts that fall just a little too low below his navel. His muscles moving, flexing while the breeze flirts with his dark hair and his green eyes seem fixed on some point in the distance.
He’s snagged my attention now and my imagination is off and running, because the potential for “hot” is just shimmering around that far too gorgeous body like waves of heat rolling off asphalt.
He’s not really handsome. He’s not a pretty boy or some young poser. He’s a man. Mature.
Mentally, I’m rubbing my hands together in glee because my imagination is painting pictures for me and some wicked little imp is just pecking out the words as if the challenge to keep up with how fast the picture is coming together is just too great to pass up.
The jogger passes me, his jogging shorts brief, not hugging his body, but comfortably covering it. Black shorts, white sneakers. A white knight at the very core, but a really bad boy when he gets intimate.
I notice, the day is starting to get really hot. Where’s that July Polar Vortex the weather man promised? I’m anything but cool.
As I watch him jog away from me, my heart’s racing and there’s a heroine jumping above the others in my imagination, waving her hand and shouting, “Here I am! Here I am Lora! He’s mine!”
Because already an image is beginning to form of a hero.
He’s a man most women would shy away from. A good girl knows better than to look, let alone touch. But the good girl in the heroine demanding him has already made the mistake of looking.
The man she sees has seen life, lived it, glimpsed the darkness and knows it. He’s a man that when he touches, he knows where to touch, how to touch, for optimum pleasure. He’s a man that understands the fragility of a woman’s body, but he still has to learn the strength of a woman’s heart.
But she knows he seen her. From his periphery. He’s watching her as he jogs by.
He knows she’s there and he knows all her inner most secrets. There’s no hiding from him. There’s no hiding from the hunger he’s keeping carefully banked, the dominance that’s not really hidden in that sharp gaze. And he’s there, because of her.
He’s seen her before. He’s a man not used to telling himself “no,” but he’s also a man who has no idea what to do with a good girl.
This isn’t the type of woman he normally associates with. She’s not hard, bitter, and just looking for a few hours of pleasure.
This woman, he knows, will take hours. He’ll demand hours. He’ll demand forever…
Damn…I really didn’t have time to add a book to my list, but I think this isn’t just added—it’s heading for the top.
That’s what I get for going to the park to ponder the question, “What makes a hunky hero?”
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