All About the Hero with T L Schaefer
We all like to know what kind of hero we’re getting when we pick up a book. Is he a tough alpha male, a sweet boy next door, a tycoon or something else? Let’s get to know him better. We ask T L Schaefer what would your hero do in these situations?
It’s eleven o’clock at night, and your hero gets a flat tire on a deserted stretch of road in the pouring rain. How does he handle it?
Even though Jonah Summers has a gigantic brain (he’s a psychiatrist), he grew up rough, and spent time in the Navy as a medic, so he knows how to use his hands *and* exactly what to do with a flat. And damn if he doesn’t look fantastic in a wet t-shirt.
It’s been a long day, and your hero is starved. Does he pick up a pan, a phone or something else?
Picks up a pan, and makes his signature sausage, avocado & gouda omelet. He’s been through enough to enjoy the finer things in life.
Your hero is propositioned by sex incarnate, and no one will EVER find out. How does he play it?
Before or after he meets my heroine? LOL, if it’s before, then he’d definitely consider it, and likely imagine it in Technicolor detail. He *is* a dude, after all!
What is your hero’s relationship with his family?
He’s very protective of his Mom and sisters, though he’s two states away. And they revel in worrying about him—and giving him a hard time. His Dad passed many years ago, so he’s the man of the family, even though he’s the youngest.
Your hero… boxers, briefs or nothing?
Actually, boxer briefs—that leave little to the imagination (see excerpt below)
Boys and their toys… What does your hero drive?
Totally boring yet reliable—a Subaru wagon that never makes an appearance in the story!
Every hero has a weakness, what is it for your hero?
Family, and those he considers family. He’d do anything for them—and has.
Linkage:
http://www.amazon.com/T.L.-Schaefer/e/B002BLOT1W/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1425516290&sr=8-1
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Shoot to Thrill excerpt:
Since we’d already paid for the suite, and it had the sitting room, I saw no reason to get another room, especially since the chaise would make Summers uncomfortable. I was getting a mean little charge out of torturing him, which should have made me ashamed, but didn’t.
And dammit if he didn’t seem to mess with my mind just as much.
He walked out of the bathroom wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. To say the man had a droolworthy body was one of the greatest understatements of our time. Lean but nicely muscled, with a six-pack and cut upper body. His torso tapered down to narrow hips, a butt to truly die for, and long, strong legs. I’d pictured him naked before, and the almost-there version was even better than my vivid imagination had been.
He sauntered to the chaise and plopped down on it, not even bothering to look my way. “Bathroom’s free.”
I grabbed my overnight bag, muttering under my breath at myself as I headed in to change.
When I stared at myself in the mirror, I cursed the blush on my cheeks, the sparkle in my eye. I’d enjoyed tonight way too much—and now I was sharing a room with one of the finest physical specimens I’d ever seen—and who I was actually starting to like.
As much as I could have stood there all night and dissembled, I had to decide what I was going to do, or not do, about my attraction to Jonah Summers. No, it didn’t have to be tonight, but scratching that itch would certainly settle me down. We were both adults, and the sparks that bounced between us weren’t one-sided.
Instead of giving myself a headache thinking about it, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and slipped into an extra long T-shirt. Let Summers infer what he wanted.
That’s not to say I didn’t sneak a peek as I walked past the chaise, admiring his bare chest from above, where he couldn’t see my ogling.
Then I slipped into the bedroom and closed the door with a resounding click and finished my nightly ritual by lighting a candle for Bianca.
Allison B. Hanson 