Book boyfriends... the acceptable means of infidelity.
You know you have one. You know you've experienced his kiss and want more. You know your heart is every bit as much his, as his belongs to someone else...
And your significant other is totally okay with you cheating for a few hours out of your life with the drop-dead sexy hero in your latest romance novel.
It can't get better, can it?
So just who have you fallen in love with over the years? The strong silent type? The naughty rogue? The agressive no holds barred lover?
I've published quite a bit and written even more, but there's one hero who outshines them all for me presently. His name is Kyle Garland. His story is A BROKEN CHRISTMAS -- which is an appropriate year-round read, not just a holiday heartwarmer.
I have to share why Kyle is my favorite too:
How, in the name of God, could he survive living with Aimee?
“Are you coming?” Aimee called from inside her car.
More than anything in the world, Kyle wanted to tell her no. Not because he resented her too accurate
assessment of his physical limitations, not because he wanted to move on and forget about her. No, he wanted to tell her she was out of her mind because the idea of going home with Aimee made him jittery.
“Yeah,” he mumbled with disgust. Coordinating cane, good leg, bad leg, and numb hand, he worked his way to his feet and limped to the passenger’s door. At least she hadn’t opened it for him—he’d have died right there if Aimee thought he was that incapable of tending to himself. His career might be toast, he might be crippled, but he was not an invalid.
And he was not hiring a nurse, damn it.
Kyle slid into the passenger’s seat with a grimace. The old pain started in his knee, worked its way up to his thigh. Muscles that had taken months to reattach and bind to bone protested the cold. Rebelled against the time he’d spent standing on the plane, just to prove to himself he could. “Why didn’t you move out?”
Aimee keyed the engine and dropped the gearshift into reverse. Looking over shoulder as she backed out of the space, she answered, “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“What have you been doing?”
As she shifted into drive, her foot on the brake, she gave him a meaningful look. “Searching for a job.”
“Oh.” Kyle lapsed into silence. He drummed his fingers on the center console, mentally ticking off the numerous reasons why staying with Aimee in the house they’d bought as husband and wife was a bad idea. Beyond the fact he loathed the idea of her tending to him like she might one of her former patients, she smelled too incredibly good after a shower, and he didn’t know how to keep his hands off her.
Already his brain formed fantastic pictures of them in the bed, reuniting in ways that would make Hugh Heffner blush. In the kitchen, on the dining room table, lathering each other in the shower…
Like he’d just run into a brick wall, the slow burn of pleasure that crept into his blood came to a frigid halt. He let out a derisive snort. Shower—right. He couldn’t handle the shower solo, much less with Aimee’s hands all over him and soap slicking his body. His leg wouldn’t hold up, the wet tile would make him slip. Christ, he couldn’t even make love to her if he wanted to—he couldn’t feel a damn thing in his right hand. He’d be no better than a bumbling teen. All thumbs, no finesse, and a damn sight rougher than what her fragile skin could handle.
So much for that little fantasy. Aimee deserved a whole man. Not one who’d been reduced to benches in the bathtub.
YOU HAVE JUST READ AN EXCERPT FROM A BROKEN CHRISTMAS
If you think you might fall in love with Kyle as much as I did while telling his story, comment on your favorite book boyfriend below -- what made you fall in love? Each comment will be entered into a drawing on Feb 5, for a .pdf copy of A BROKEN CHRISTMAS.
Then, check out the wonderful Book Boyfriend Blog Hop, sponsored by Reading Between the Wines and As the Pages Turn, and the fantastic prizes these authors are offering. It's a great kick-start to the Valentine's Holday!