Alpha-Bits, Pt. 4: Hard Core!

Alphas, be they cops, corporate honchos, cowboys, or car mechanics, are all Tough. As. Nails. Not so much with the warm fuzzies. Not very understanding, or even, at times, forgiving. A friend of mine who was more Alpha than I have ever seen before or since once said, “Every criminal should be executed. The really bad ones should be tortured first.”

That unbending spine is both a source of frustration and a reason for admiration for our heroine. As difficult as it may be to live with Mr. Upright, it’s that sense of justice that makes him strong. Call it the Good-Kirk-Evil-Kirk Syndrome. Remember that episode of Star Trek? Evil Kirk was a bad man with poor impulse control, but he was the one who got things done. Good Kirk was compassionate and caring and suffered from crippling indecision.

Romance Alphas aren’t much different- they start out somewhat dark and dangerous, even if they’re firmly on the right side of the law. Helping them find the balance between Val Jean and Javert is the heroine’s flipping job in these books. But I beg, plead, and bribe with Triple Split Your Pants brownies if need be- quit wussifying my Alphas!

I’m perfectly okay with a hero who can blow the bad guy away and not suffer the agonies of the damned. I’m perfectly okay with a hero who can blow the bad guy away, period. Forgiveness and sweetness and warmth can be powerful, wonderful things; any Alpha is capable of them. And sometimes those things can require more strength than pulling a trigger.

But I want a good reason for his decision. Please, please, please don’t turn my ruthless, tough hero into some milksop who can’t take care of business simply because he’s now in luuuuurve. Let my caveman keep his club.

Alpha-Bits, Pt.3: MINE!

Perhaps my favored characteristic of the Alpha hero is his possessiveness. I'm not even going to think about what that says for my psyche. All I know is that I love the moment when the hero growls, "You're mine!"

Even before he's allowed himself to admit he loves the heroine, he just can't take the thought that any other man will be spending time with her. From Nora Roberts' historical Lawless:

She stepped closer to stab a finger at his chest. "If I allow Samuel to kiss my hand, that's my affair. He's asked me to marry him."

The last thing she expected was to be hauled off her feet so that her slippers dangled several inches from the ground. "What did you say?"

"I said he asked me to marry him. Put me down."

He gave her a shake that sent hairpins flying. "I warn you, Duchess, you think long and hard about marrying him, because the same day you're his wife, you're his widow. That's a promise."

I know, I know. In real life, I'd be calling the police and asking for restraining orders just like you. But in fiction, those scenes just sing through me.

Maybe it's the combined force of all those dates and boyfriends who made it known that I was their girlfriend, but if I wanted to go further than that? "I need space, man." And then they'd look at me as if I was a new and not very attractive form of fauna. "What the hell's wrong with you, anyway? Why do you women always have to get all weird?" Grrrr.

The Alpha may have issues with commitment at first, but once it's made he'll keep it to his pain. And do anything he can to make things right. Yes, I like possessive heroes. Sue me.

Alpha-Bits, Pt.2: Swagger!

Confidence or arrogance? There’s a fine line between a bold belief in oneself and being a pompous ass. Alphas are often accused of being tools, but I say the true Alpha skates the right side of that line.

For those who love Alphas, that absolute self-assurance is a prime part of the attraction. I want a hero who won’t dither with should-I-shouldn’t-I when it’s time for action. He’ll take time to plan, of course, but when it’s time to git ‘er done he’ll go in with guns blazing.

It isn’t that Alphas have no introspection. On the contrary, Alphas are well aware of their own flaws, and it kills them to admit it. They are, therefore, usually to be found doing a job in which they excel. But if they are faced with a situation they don’t have a skill set for, pure perseverance will get them to the top. Even Alphas who have gone to brood in their castles don’t quit.

All this confident competence makes for a boring hero then, right? Not hardly. Consider this hero from my favorite rainy Saturday read, Amanda Quick’s historical Ravished:

“Well, then, Miss Harriet Pomeroy?” There was an unmistakable challenge in the words.

“Well, what, my lord?” Harriet managed breathlessly. It was true she had virtually no experience of this sort of thing, but all her womanly instincts were assuring her that Gideon had been as powerfully affected by that kiss as she had been. She did not understand why he had suddenly gone all cold and dangerous.

“You have a decision to make. You may either take off your gown and lie down on the stone floor of this cave so that we can finish what we have started or you may run back toward the beach and safety. I suggest you make your choice quickly, as my own mood is somewhat unpredictable at the moment.”

Now he has just given her the Swoop and Grab kiss, but he’s giving her a choice. And shocking her with the suggestion of sex to scare her off, because he knows his reputation alone will destroy hers, even if they haven’t done anything. For me, a big part of the fun is seeing the firm, self-assured, big strapping man fall apart when faced with his feelings toward our heroine. Later in the book:

He had not been at all kind to Harriet. He had virtually coerced her into marriage, exhibited her to the ton as if she were an exotic pet, and put her in jeopardy at the hands of Bryce Morland.

In return she had given him her love, helped him restore his reputation, and made it possible for him to mend the breach with his parents.

No, he had not been particularly kind to Harriet. All she had ever really wanted from him was his love, and he had told her he could not give it. Six years ago I forgot everything I knew of love.

What an ass he had been.

He’s strong and confident and totally assured that he’s wrapped around her finger and delighted to admit it. That’s my Alpha.

Alpha-Bits

I just got through reading a very good story; good characters, believable situations, good plot, but- it fell just a little bit flat. I’m trying to understand why, and I think for me a romance really does stand or fall on the hero.

I love a good heroine. Feisty or shy, kickazz or quiet, tough or tender, I like her. But even if she’s an irritating, annoying bint or a stoopid, wilting waif, I can take her if the hero works. Even if I can’t quite figure out why he digs her.

I have also read many books that had contrived plots and overwrought prose and prime entries in the Oh Yeah, That’s Believable Awards. If the hero works, I’ve been known to overlook things because I am apparently just that shallow.

But a book can have an amazing heroine and a fantastic plot and great writing and I will never pick it up again if it doesn’t give me a hero I fall in love with.

According to my keeper shelf, the men I favor most? Cavemen in an Italian suit. Or a uniform. Or a kilt. Or hip waiters.

Anyone who has ever read my blog, former or present, knows I love Alpha heroes. The more hairy the chest, the better, metaphorically speaking. I wonder what Alpha males spark in me? They’re large and in charge, but ultimately so helpless when they try to understand this woman who won’t stay where she’s put. Fun times.

I’ll be exploring the Mighty Alpha the next few posts, and I’d like to hear from you, too, on what makes a great hero. Join in!

Mad Men

So a few nights ago I was watching Marnie. I love Hitchcock, and though Marnie isn’t one of my favorites I adore Sean Connery. There’s a scene where he has found out that the woman he loves has been lying to him and robbing him blind, and he goes tearing off to find her. When he does, he’s so mad he can’t see straight. My reaction?

ZING!!!!!

That’s the burning question I just can’t answer: Why do ticked off heroes turn me on? When men are mad in real life, I hide unless I think I can take them. But in fiction, film or page? Aitch Ay Double-yew Tee. HAWT.

I don’t enjoy scolds or lectures. I certainly don’t want to see spanking or ‘taming.’ And I don’t get the Punishing Kiss. I’ve made my husband mad. Veins throbbing in the forehead mad. In those moments, I can assure you he hasn’t wanted to kiss me.

Maybe it’s the thought that anger will break down some walls, make the hero finally take action. It might be that it proves he cares. Or maybe it’s the totally shallow notion that, at least in fiction, a man who lets a woman get away with anything isn’t quite a man.

Or maybe it was just Sean Connery.

I Sooooo Don't Get It

I've been watching the polygamist camp women on tv today, hair piled high, prairie dresses pressed with crisp little collars, while they cry for the return of their children in soft voices.

I have no doubt that they are anguished. They are hurt and afraid. They were taken from the only home most of them have ever known at gunpoint, and then had their children taken away while they were sent back to the ranch.

I also know that they were raised to this, have no idea what the outside world is like, except that it's sinful and evil. So it isn't as if I have no sympathy for these women.

But it's just so hard for me to understand how a woman could watch her son be used as little more than slave labor, and then cheerfully give her daughter to an older man in marriage, knowing that immediately after the ceremony he's going to take her to a bed behind the altar and 'consummate.' But then again, I'm not the one who's been brutalized and brainwashed.

The trial over custody of these poor kids starts today, and it's a madhouse. Putting these children in foster care, especially a system that's already strained, will be a nightmare. These children will have to have counseling, or even deprogamming, for years. They have been taught that being with us will not just lead to punishment, but eternal damnation. As a Christian, this horrifies me.

As a human being, I say that the police removed the wrong ones from the compound. The women and children should have been able to stay- and the MEN should have been taken into custody. I noticed that none of them are featured on the news; granting interviews and being filmed. If the church- and I say that sarcastically- elders think that parading their Prairie Stepford Wives is going to make this go easier for them, they're mistaken. The men who make the rules and enforce them are the ones who need punishment. And as far as I'm concerned, hell is too good for them.

Stuff and Nonsense

I submitted a column to Romancing the Blog’s Open Blog night. It was a tad controversial; you all know how I hate speaking my mind. They do open blog night on Sundays; we’ll see if they run it. If they don’t, I’ll print it here. Yes, it was over the current kerfluffle with pubs that don’t pay and…what did I call them? RoboClicking sycophants who cut a swath through Amazon reviews like drunken pirates who’ve just hit port in Tortuga. Something like that.

My first review for Enduring Romance will be up Sunday, and I’m really looking forward to it. This has been a lot of fun, even if I have to rein in the snark. Glory Girls by Linda Bleser- be there!

So my daughter and I both have problems with redness in our faces; we’re constantly being told that we’re sunburned or windburned or obviously had too much exercise. Like I’ve ever had too much exercise. We went to a makeup store, looking for mineral powder; we’d heard a lot about it and wondered if it would work for us. Normal foundation? Forget it. Makes me break out, and Beth hates how it feels. That may be because we have to use so much of it to conceal the redness. How good could it be for your skin if it makes you look like you’ve put it on with a trowel?

So a semi-helpful, brow-studded salesgirl pointed us toward the mineral counter. As you do. Pointing and almost glaring is the proper customer service attitude, after all. We read the posters, looked through the boxes, but avoided the samples. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too confident that some woman who couldn’t find a tissue for her toddler’s runny nose didn’t just have her hand in that pot of powder. EWWW.

This makeup needed a guide who could lead us to the ruins and kill our dinner along the way.
"Here it is!"
"No, that’s for eyes. It’s this one."
"Wait, that’s not foundation, it’s bronzer. Here!"
"Wrong again. Rouge."
We finally found the stuff after writing HELP ME notes and stuffing them in empty perfume bottles, just in case. We’d pretty much decided on what to buy- and you have to buy the Whole Kit, they don’t sell anything separately- and then looked at the price. Thirty-nine freaking ninety-nine. For one month.

We left immediately and went to Target. Maybelline has a version of the mineral powder. I still choked a little when I forked over twelve dollars, but Beth and I really love it. It works well, and feels good on the skin. And when you get lost in Target, at least there’s a Starbuck’s in it to help soothe your pain.

What Did Obama Do For You?

My hubby has a few days between the end of his old soul-sucking personal hell...er, I mean, his old job, and his bright, shiny new one, so I'll be taking a few days off. Smell ya later.

In the meantime, presidential candidate Senator Barack Obama helped me fold my laundry. What has he done for you?

Wait up, Reynaldo! I'm coming!

From my best friend Missie, who has Cyber Voice Modulation Disorder, came the best birthday wish I've ever received:

HOPE YOU SPENT YOUR DAY DOING ONLY WHAT YOU WANT TO DO AND THAT YOUR FAMILY WAS PEACE AND SUNSHINE AND HAPPY LITTLE UNICORNS WITH RAINBOWS SHOOTING OUT THEIR REARS, AND THAT CHURCH WAS WONDERFUL AND THAT YOUR HAIR LOOKED PERFECT AND THAT YOUR MAKEUP WAS DIVINE AND YOUR DRESS NOT ONLY MADE YOU LOOK TEN POUNDS THINNER BUT TEN YEARS YOUNGER AND THAT ALL THE DRIVERS ON THE ROAD WERE POLITE BECAUSE THEY KNEW IT WAS YOUR SPECIAL DAY AND THAT THE FOOD YOU ORDERED AT THE RESTAURANT WAS ESPECIALLY DELICIOUS AND THAT THE FREE DESSERT THEY GAVE YOU WAS BROUGHT OUT BY A STARTLINGLY FABULOUSLY HANDSOME SPANIARD NAMED REYNALDO WHO WHILE GAZING AT YOUR ROBYNFULNESS DECLARES HIS UNDYING LOVE AND WANTS TO WHISK YOU AWAY TO HIS FAMILY'S ANCESTRAL HOME ON THE SHORES OF SPAIN AT WHICH POINT YOU SAY, THANK YOU BUT THIS GUY RIGHT HERE? I AM MARRIED TO HIM AND THESE ARE OUR CHILDREN. AT WHICH POINT OUR MAN REYNALDO SAYS THAT'S OKAY, BRING THEM TOO. AT WHICH POINT YOU SAY EWWWW I AM NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL, AT WHICH POINT HE SAYS THEN LET ME JUST GIVE YOU A BUNCH OF RICHES SINCE YOU WILL NOT ACCEPT MY HEART, AT WHICH POINT YOU SAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND I WOULD LIKE FRIES WITH THAT, AT WHICH POINT YOU AND GARY DITCH MINNESOTA BECAUSE YOU ARE NOW INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY AND YOU MOVE TO IDAHO LIKE ALL THE OTHER WEALTHY CALIFORNIANS AND ARIZONIANS AND YOU BUY YOUR DREAM HOUSE AND PUT YOUR KIDS IN GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND HELP US START A CHURCH.

It was actually a tiny bit less dramatic than that but I'm holding out for next year. I'm 44, peeps. And FOINE!

Big Hair, Russians, and Technophobia

You know, I think I'm terminally stuck in the 80's. I still like acid-wash jeans. I still like gravity-defying bangs. I still like Duran-Duran and the Bangles and Hall and Oates. And I still like Footloose and Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Just One of the Guys.

But especially in my books and movies, I still like the Cold War. That sounds insane, I know, but it was so much easier to do villains and spies back then. Everybody knew how espionage worked; you went to the Russian embassy party, tossed bon mots with a few well clad enemies, snuck upstairs to pick the lock of a Poobah's desk while the guards watched the soccer match, took pictures of top secret documents with your tiny camera, went back downstairs narrowly missing detection by guards who finally heard you, and made an attractive fellow agent livid but terribly attracted to you as you drove off in your sportscar.

The current Enemies of the State don't lend themselves to my imagination. Neither does modern technology. A cell not getting service just doesn't have the same menace as a phone that suddenly goes dead. A couple on the run don't seem so alone when they have GPS and OnStar. Granted, if I want my lovers forced into close quarters I can always whip up a blizzard. Provided of course that the cabin they wander into won't have a generator and a satellite.

What about you? Do all the current goodies excite you, or spoil your fun?

Big Doin's, Book Pimpage, and America's Voters Suck

No, not the Presidential election. Dancing with the Stars. How could America vote off total cutie Steve Gutenburg and keep Adam Corolla? Geez.

I used to sneer at reality TV until I realized how much of it I watched. But honestly, how can you resist Tyra Banks' Executioner Face as she tells girls they're not talented enough to sell cheap makeup; Heidi Klum smashing the dreams of fashionistas who drape models in ruffles and old couch fabric; seeing cheftestants have their food judged by a supermodel who put together a few cookbooks by using other people's recipes and who may or may not be on medication because dang, that woman slurs her speeches.

Anyway. My friend December Quinn, aka Stacia Kane, had a book release yesterday! Personal Demons should hit shelves soon, and you can get it on Amazon now. She's been teasing us with excerpts; and they look fantastic. Good on you, DQ!

So my hubs got a new job. We're absolutely thrilled. The interview was more like an Insta-love first date, and he's getting a lot more money. He's also likely to be a lot more fulfilled professionally speaking, which he hasn't been in a long time. But here's the kicker. He may be transferred to Minneapolis. As in Minnesota. As in BRRR.

We're from Oklahoma. Yes, the wind does come sweeping down the plain, and it's also the land of Lucky to Get One Good Snowfall a Year and 100 Degree Summers with 200 Percent Humidity. It will be a culture shock, no doubt but we're all (kids included) kind of stoked for it. Especially when we found out that's where the Mall of America is. The son can go to the shark-filled aquarium (Really? An aquarium in a mall? What a country) while daughter and I shop for shoes. Shoes that they don't charge sales tax for.

Pardon me while I go rent the moving van.