|Hell or High Water|
Jerrie Alexander, welcome back to Romance Lives Forever. Last time you were here, you brought blueberry muffins. Tell us about those hats you brought this time.
Hats, Hats, and More Hats
Imagine me sitting in front of my computer. Got it? I have my Malcolm McDowell (A Clockwork Orange) hat on, with one eye made-up to the nines, terrorizing innocent people who get in my way.
Or maybe, I've donned my Phantom of the Opera's mask, killing off characters who refuse to do what I want. People who don't understand that I have their best interest at heart. People who don't realize how damaged I am inside. People who die for not bending to my will.
Then I slip on my heroine's hat of mystery. How'd she get into this mess? Strong willed and brave, she'll do what it takes to solve the mystery and survive. Maybe, as she fights her way through her story, she'll fall in love on the way.
Ah, the hero. *sigh* Okay, so he doesn't have a hat. Getting into the mind of a hundred percent kick ass male, who doesn't think he needs love to survive, is great fun. Hat or no hat. If I struggle with his persona, I'll turn to my standby song Holding Out For A Hero. If you don't know this one, please, go to Itunes and look up Bonnie Tyler.
While writing, I wear all those hats. Now, I don't really have a wall of hats that I swap back and forth. It's all in my head and done metaphorically. For me it's a method. It's my way to dig deep into the character's persona and tell the story from his/her point of view without my ideas or morals interfering.
Not that'd I'd be opposed to putting on a black fedora or silver belly Stetson if I thought it would get me past a particularly hard scene to write.
Shoot, I'd write naked if it worked. But that's another post.
After all of my research is complete and I understand their motivations, immersing myself in a character, trying to feel and react as he or she would, is the best way for me to develop separate and distinguishable personalities for each person in the book.
What about you? Maybe you have a trick you can share. You don't have to be a writer to slip into a character's point of view. Maybe at the movies you lose yourself. Ever become Merle Streep? Or Alex O'Loughlin?
Come on, not even as a kid? Maybe John Wayne?
Here's info about my new book while you think about your answer. It's book one of the Lost and Found, Inc. series, Hell or High Water, from Etopia Press.
Blurb:When ex-SEAL Nate Wolfe learns a woman from his past is in danger, nothing will stop him from protecting her. Not even her. Dallas Child Protection Services Investigator Kay Taylor doesn't want or need Nate in her life. But he doesn't seem to understand the word no. He seems to also have forgotten the brand he left on her heart. When Kay is taken and sold to a monster, the devil himself couldn't stop Nate from doing whatever it takes to find her...but will he be in time?
|Hell or High Water|
A chill slammed into her. Again, somebody’s eyes on her sent a shiver up her arms. She whirled.
A black Harley was parked down the block. She paused at the rear of the car and stared at the rider. Odd that he’d parked away from the funeral crowd and sat there watching. Damn, the black visor didn’t stop the burn as his gaze bore down on her. Her breath caught. Was this the man who’d saved her? Wearing a black leather jacket and matching helmet, the man sat motionless.
She started toward him, and the rider stepped off the bike. If this was her ninja, she’d demand answers after she thanked him. He turned his back to her and then removed the helmet. His fingers wound through shoulder-length black hair, tying the strands together with a piece of leather. There was something vaguely familiar about him. His movements. His shoulders. His hands.
He turned to face her, and her heart rate raced toward the ozone.
Ten years of missing Nate Wolfe boiled over. He was here. Really here. She sprang into his arms, clutched his broad shoulders and leaned into his hard-as-a-rock chest. God, his scent, a mixture of leather, woodsy cologne and virile man washed over her. Damn. Her body betrayed her by melting into him.
“Nate,” she whispered into his neck. “You saved me.” Her flesh heated when his large hands flexed against the small of her back and drew her closer.
“Come hell or high water,” he whispered, his warm breath sending heat streaks across her skin.
A split-second passed before memories of his lying tongue using that same phrase so many years ago hit her. A volcano of heartbreak erupted and spewed forth.
“Don’t touch me,” she spit the words at him while scrambling out of reach. “And don’t you dare say that to me. Ever.”
“You hugged me.” His eyes went wide and he held his hands up in surrender.
Damn him and his Cheshire cat grin. Kay plowed her right fist into his jaw. God, pain shot up her arm. His head barely moved. Still, she relished the snap of his teeth. Obviously, she didn’t hit him hard enough. He rubbed his scruffy jaw while that sexy little smile inched right back up his cheeks.
“Why are you following me?” Her knuckles hurt like hell, but he’d never know.
“What?” He held his hands in front of him, palms up. “No good to see you, Nate? No how you been? No nothing.”
“I’ll try this again, slower. Why. Are. You. Fol—”
“We need to talk.” The fun left his gaze. The sparkle dimmed to seriousness.
She stepped further away and sent him a glare designed to blister his flesh from head to toe. Unaffected, he picked up the cell phone earpiece she’d knocked off and reattached it to his ear while never taking his navy blue eyes off her.
“No, we don’t. Thank you for saving my life. Now do what you do best. Go away.” She spun on her heel. Rubbing her now swelling hand, Kay stalked straight to her waiting friend.
“You okay?” Holly asked over the top of the car before she slid behind the wheel.
“If I didn’t break my fist on his cement jaw, I will be.” Kay stabbed her seatbelt a second time before fastening it properly. She cursed the tears welling. Cursed the feel his warm body imprinted on her breasts. Cursed the memories that sent her heart spinning.
Holly dropped her .380 in her purse.
“Did you take that in church this morning?”
“Yep. God knows I carry. And the law gave me a permit. Glad I had it, because I didn’t know what the hell was going down when you hit him. Who was the hunk?”
“Holy shit. The guy from college?”
“The same. He’s been watching me. I’m sure of it.”
“I should’ve shot him.” Holly punched the gas pedal, ignoring the speed bumps.
“Thanks for having my back. And for getting the concealed carry license.”
“I’m never without protection. Or a gun.” Holly chuckled at her own joke. “Where to?”
Publisher: Etopia Press
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Thriller
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