Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Writer Wednesday: Forget About Muscles, Give Me Art



Forget About Muscles, Give Me Art

As a romance writer, erotic or otherwise, I often feel I should be writing square-jawed muscular heroes who could sweep up my heroine and carry her into the bedroom. I certainly read a lot of them. But I have a confession to make…

I don’t really like them.

I actually have a yearning to write young blond studenty types. The beanie-hatted guitarist in the video for Carly Rae Jepson’s “Call Me Maybe”, for instance, is exactly the type I love to picture as a hero. Which is why the hero of I Like It Wet, Jay Metcalfe, is a young-looking blond studenty type, even though he isn’t a student.

Maybe it’s because I was a high school geek and only hung around with other geeks, none of whom matched the archetype of the smouldering hero. Maybe it was because I had a great time as a university student, and all my male friends were typical student types. Or maybe it’s because I think Tom Felton is cute, and he looked just right in “13 Hours”.

Jay has another trait which I also love – he’s a fashion designer. Most of the male fashion designers I’ve met have been gay, but certainly not all. And there’s something about a man who knows how to dress. A man who also knows how to design? Even better. A lot of my heroes will be artistic in some way. Even Ash, my football player from The Hand He Dealt, was a musician in his spare time.

Of course, being young and student-looking has its drawbacks. Not many of his colleagues take Jay seriously. He’s used to being underestimated. So when he meets my heroine Talia in the throes of her favourite fantasy, the discovery that she too has hidden depths is irresistible…


Tanith Davenport lives in Yorkshire with her long-suffering husband and pampered cat. Her interests range wildly between rock music and modern cinema to medieval literature and the language of flowers. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.

Talia Lanter has had a long, hard month. She's single, overworked, and her boss has turned down her pet project. It's time for a weekend away - somewhere she can walk on the beach, eat chips, and indulge her favourite fetish: water.
Jay Metcalfe has had a crush on Talia ever since he met her. But the last thing he expected was to encounter her on the Scarborough seafront, letting herself be drenched by wave after wave, wet clothes plastered to her body, water sparkling on her skin, and flushed with pleasure...

The hotel was at the top of the cliff, overlooking Scarborough’s North Bay. A long stretch of white beach ran as far as the eye could see, edged along the roadside with cockle stands and seaside rock stalls. From her vantage point at the top of a flight of stone steps leading to the seafront, Talia could see that the tide was almost in, waves already beginning to crash against the bay wall.
She trotted down the steps, white wedge sandals slapping on the concrete, and made her way along the main street towards the cliffs at the far right of the bay. The seafront was packed, a morass of people and dogs set to a soundtrack of jangling arcade music, and the scent of fried doughnuts and candyfloss drifted from windows as she passed them.
Maybe later she’d treat herself. But right now her focus was on the sea.
The busy street gave way to a flat stone walkway, rising above her in rock and greenery on one side. Sunlight danced on the sea, an almost blinding shimmer. Talia rested her hands on the wall and looked down at the waves as they surged below.
If she could live anywhere, it would be within sight of the sea. Soothing and raging by turns, she needed it to live, needed it to breathe. God, it had been a rough month. She needed the break. And watching the ebb and surge, it was as though her worries were being massaged away.
A larger wave was swelling, rushing forward, and Talia threw her head back in anticipation.
Hit me!
A crash, a roar, and suddenly she was engulfed in sparkling spray, followed by the sudden splash of cool water drenching her face, her hair and her shirt, plastering the fabric to her body. Shaking her head, Talia flicked her hair from her face and opened her eyes just in time to see another wave approaching.
This one was bigger, faster, and the slap as it hit the wall threw it higher before falling in a deluge, soaking her from head to toe. Pressing her hands on the top of the wall, Talia arched her back and let the water flow over her, feeling the familiar sensation of cold mingling with the heat of the sun on her body.
All the tension in her muscles seemed to wash away with the water.




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