SeducedByTheAntiHero

by L. J. Fine

  Seduced by the Anti-Hero

  L. J. Fine

  Emma Durham aspires to be a full-time erotic romance author, but her sex scenes leave a lot to be desired. She knows that’s due to a severe lack of quality experience. In order to refresh her muse, she visits an old friend with a wild past.

  Her friend introduces her to Ben Serano, whose standoffishness strikes her as rude. But something about his quiet intensity draws her in. When he learns of her creative problem, he volunteers to be her solution. His sexual inventiveness and ferociousness ignite her writing and her desire for more.

  Word around town says he is a dangerous man to get involved with. But the rumors don’t match up with the man she is coming to know, especially after he reveals an unexpected tender side. Then a man from Ben’s past accuses him of murder, and Emma is left to decide who to believe.

  Everything in her wants to trust Ben, but how well does she really know him?

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  SEDUCED BY THE ANTI-HERO

  L.J. Fine

  Chapter One

  “This novel has a lot of strengths, Emma. The plot is exciting, the dialog is witty and engaging, the pacing is good and your prose is well written. But…there are a few—rather important—areas that could use some improvement.”

  As Emma Durham listened to her critique partner, Jessica, disappointment formed a lead ball in the pit of her stomach. She knew what was coming next. It was the same thing that always came next.

  So it wasn’t a surprise when Jessica continued on to say, “Your characters are still just a little too farfetched, specifically your hero, Charles.”

  Though it wasn’t a surprise it still rankled and before she could stop herself she snapped, “What’s wrong with Charles? I think he’s perfect the way he is.”

  A frown marred the already serious features of her partner. “See, that’s the problem right there. There’s nothing wrong with Charles. He’s entirely too perfect. Remember that your characters need to be believable and in order to be believable your readers have to be able to relate to them. People—as a general rule—are not perfect so there has to be some sort of character flaw that Charles possesses. Besides.” She shrugged. “Character flaws spice up the plot. They add new dimension.”

  “I’m sure he has some flaws.” Emma leafed through the printed copy of her manuscript searching for said flaws. She suspected, though, that Jessica was right. That didn’t stop her from defending her writing anyway. “I mean, that’s Character Building 101.”

  Surely she’d set out to give him a personality defect or two when she’d begun writing this story. She just hadn’t gotten around to it. Besides, the men of her acquaintance had too many flaws and wasn’t that the point of writing fiction? To escape reality?

  “Well, I guess he does have one flaw.” When Emma raised her eyebrows hopefully, Jessica continued. “He’s not very good in bed, is he?”

  Now that had her slapping her manuscript closed even as her jaw dropped open.

  That was the main flaw most men had, wasn’t it? It was hardly realistic to expect any given man to be stellar in the bedroom. Those types of men were few and far between. But it probably wasn’t something one wanted to accentuate when writing a romance novel. And, okay, so maybe she could see where Jessica was coming from. Even as she’d been writing those scenes she’d felt a lack of passion for the words pouring out of her. She just hadn’t expected Jessica to come right out and say it. Though, that was what a good critique partner was for, after all. So she should probably be thankful.

  Something about Emma’s expression, maybe that she must have looked like a fish out of water, had Jessica giving a soft laugh. “You’ve told me before that you’re determined to write in this genre. I know you don’t want to write the kind of innocent romance that fades to black once the bedroom door is closed. So what’s holding you back?”

  Emma sighed as she looked around the crowded bookstore for some inspiration. Their weekly Tuesday fiction writers’ group meeting had ended about fifteen minutes ago and most of the members were lingering at the table or in the small café inside the bookstore. Emma had taken the opportunity after the meeting to pounce on Jessica to get her much awaited feedback on Emma’s latest attempt at a novel. She’d thought she’d made some progress with this one, she really had. Now she wasn’t sure why she had been so eager for this conversation.

  “I don’t know,” Emma said softly. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of real world experience to draw from in that area.”

  “Oh, honey.” Jessica chuckled. “You don’t need real world experience to write a steamy love scene. All you need is some good chocolate, a healthy libido and some inspirational reading material.”

  Pulling a purse that could double as a suitcase up onto the table, Jessica rummaged around its contents until she pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Emma.

  “What’s this?” Emma took the paper with a frown.

  “It’s a list of my favorite erotic novels. Novels that have prodded my creativity more than once and have left my husband feeling more than grateful.” She winked.

  Ugh. How embarrassing that she needed this kind of advice. And the fact that Jessica had had the forethought to make a list made it worse somehow. Still, she was thankful for the woman’s willingness to mentor her because Lord knew she needed all the help she could get. So she neatly placed the list in her own purse with the intention of going through it later. In the privacy of her own home. Maybe with a Google app open and a glass of red wine.

  Again, the expression on her face must have given away her anxiety because Jessica lightly patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Emma. You definitely have the talent and potential to make it as published author. I wouldn’t be trying so hard to figure out ways to help you if I didn’t honestly believe that. You just need to get this aspect of it straightened out and you’ll be well on your way.”

  “Thank you. Having you say that really means a lot to me.” Emma smiled warmly as they both stood and made their way to the door.

  It really did mean a lot. Jessica was a successful, multi-published author in the very same genre that Emma was trying to break into. To top that off, Emma had been a fan of hers even before she’d joined the group. So she respected Jessica’s opinion and was insanely grateful that the woman even took the time to read her stuff, let alone help her out.

  “Well, I mean it.” Jessica pushed the door open and headed out into the brisk fall evening with Emma right behind her. “So just do a little reading, have a glass of wine and keep one thing in the back of your mind at all times: A sexy as hell bad boy with some deliciously corrupting—yet redeemable—character flaws.”

  Emma laughed at the way Jessica bobbed her eyebrows and waved good night as she headed in the opposite direction to walk the few blocks to her apartment. Running a tired hand through her chin-length black hair, Emma bit her lip and mentally went over their entire conversation again, zeroing in on Jessica’s advice.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t read erotic novels before. In fact, those were her favorite types of books. If they were written well she devoured that genre as if it were her job. It was just that when she sat down to actually write those kinds of scenes, the words she wanted to say never came out.

  What she lacked was confidence. There was a deep-seated fear within her that her severely inadequate experiences would leak out onto the page and her readers would call bullshit. Confirming that she had no idea what she was talking about. Not that she didn’t know the mechanics. Tab A goes into Slot B, and sometimes Slot C and Slot D depending on your kink. The ability to weave together the mechanics and the prose to elicit emotion and authenticity during
the act was what eluded her.

  The only emotions she’d ever experienced during sex were discomfort and mild boredom. While she was aware that—for most women—every time wasn’t a religious experience, it would have been nice had she had even one ground-shaking memory to call forth and lend credibility to her work.

  But, as it was, she’d had a grand total of two lovers in her lifetime. The first was a shy high school boyfriend she’d dated for a few months. Laughing and shaking her head at the memory, she jogged up the steps to her apartment building and entered. She’d lost her virginity in the most stereotypical fashion and she was slightly ashamed. It had been prom night. In the back of his car. The experience had lasted not even ten minutes and was so painful and awkward that they had decided the next day it would just be easier to break up.

  And then there was her last lover, or ex-fiancé, Rob. Their sex life, while a vast improvement from her first time, had always been strained. There had never been any kind of throw down. None of the fireworks or sweaty, sated exhaustion she’d read about. While he had reassured her time and again that it wasn’t her fault, she had always secretly wondered if she was doing something wrong.

  Of course, later she found out what the real problem was. Rob was gay. Had pretty much known he was gay almost from the beginning but he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. They’d just gotten along so well on every other level that he wanted to give it a good shot. His parents were strict Catholics and he had been dreading breaking that news to them.

  In fact, he still hadn’t told them if memory served. She understood why he had done what he had and they remained good friends to this day. But his revelation made her secretly wonder if she hadn’t had something to do with his batting for the other team.

  It was an irrational thought. She knew that. If you’re gay you’re gay no matter what. But it didn’t do much for her self-confidence in that area.

  Or for her writing apparently.

  Finally reaching her apartment, she unlocked the door and went inside. Throwing her keys on the table, she picked up the mail she’d gotten earlier but hadn’t had time to look through. Nothing new there. A few bills, an advertisement for the Chinese restaurant down the street.

  Bored, she threw the mail back onto the coffee table and ambled into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. As usual, she pulled a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. Though she had one of those frozen delicacies every night, she wasn’t exactly lean from the habit. Jessica was right; she did enjoy some good chocolate. So no, she wasn’t a skinny bitch but she liked to think of herself as curvy in the right places and generally had no complaints about her body.

  The microwave beeped and she pulled her meal from inside before grabbing a glass of water and heading into the living room to watch some TV. Same old shit there too.

  Come to think of it, her life was a mundane study in routine. Even her job was mind-numbing. She worked as a bank teller, processing the same kinds of transactions day in and day out. Most nights just thinking about going into the branch in the morning had a piece of her creative soul curling up and dying just a little more. In fact the only part of her life, as of late, that was even remotely exciting was her writing, which obviously needed a serious kick in the pants.

  Surveying her dull surroundings, she had an epiphany. It wasn’t just a lack of excitement in the bedroom that was causing her writing to suffer. It was a lack of anything interesting happening in her life. Ever. Well, at least not since college. She needed to shake things up a bit. Throw herself wildly off course and gain some new experiences. Sitting cross-legged on her overstuffed loveseat, she folded a pillow in her arms across her lap and tried to recall the last fun and exciting thing she’d done.

  Yup, that had been back in college. With her old roommate, Chloe. Her free-spirited, fun-loving, blonde beauty of a roommate had always been up to some crazy thing and occasionally Emma had tagged along for the ride. Though they’d moved away from each other after college, they’d always kept in touch. And hadn’t Chloe told her the last time they spoke that she was dating someone who worked for the mafia?

  No, wait, that wasn’t right. But it was some kind of shady thing like that.

  Getting up, she paced over to where she’d tossed her purse by the front door and pulled out her phone. About halfway through her contact list it came to her. He was a bookie!Yeah, that was it. For some underground fight club. Emma shook her head as she continued scrolling through her phone. Trust Chloe to get involved with someone on the wrong side of the law.

  No way a guy like that would even remotely register on her “Charming List”.

  That automatic thought had her stopping cold and she realized that her hero, Charles, possessed every single trait that made up her “Charming List”. Not that the list was an actual bulleted document of traits she found necessary in a man. It was more of a guideline she liked to keep in the back of her mind. Just generalities such as men who were thoughtful, considerate, passionate, refined, intelligent, self-sufficient, kind, confident without being arrogant, funny, knew how to cook, outgoing, personable without coming off as phony, into eclectic music and cultured… Okay, okay she should probably stop now.

  Unfortunately, the list seemed to be the other problem with her writing. Men like that didn’t exist outside of a Disney movie.

  As a kid she’d been obsessed with fairytales. Particularly the ones with a handsome prince who saved the day, like in Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty. And it was that shit right there that had ruined her for any flesh-and-blood man. They just couldn’t measure up. But it had also fueled her love of romance novels and had given her the inspiration to try her hand at writing her own fairytales. Making her own happy endings even if life was determined to make real happy endings few and far between.

  She really did believe, though, that her writing stood a snowball’s chance in every other area but the physical expression of love. Which brought her back to the problem at hand and the phone she still clutched tightly in her fist.

  What she needed was an actual man to gain some actual experience to lend that much needed realism to her writing. She needed to shelve the list for a little while and see what she could come up with. And for this she would need Chloe’s help. Surely if her boyfriend managed an underground boxing club she’d be able to fix Emma up with someone who would make quality random hookup material.

  Though they spoke fairly frequently, she hadn’t actually seen Chloe in a while. Would it even be all right to just invite herself for a visit after so long just for research purposes? What if her plan didn’t work? What if she wasn’t able to let go and let her guard down enough to make it work?

  There was only one way to find out. And if her little plan didn’t pan out, then it was no harm no foul. Worst case scenario, she would get to visit Chloe for a little while. Nothing ventured nothing gained. So she squared her shoulders and dialed Chloe’s number.

  Chapter Two

  Emma took in the small town around her as she drove down a quaint little street heading toward her ultimate destination: Chloe’s bookstore.

  Once Emma had finally gotten ahold of Chloe, her friend had seemed thrilled with the idea of Emma coming to visit, which was a relief and had kicked her butt into gear. The very next day Emma had informed her boss that she would be taking a long vacation starting the following week. Emma hadn’t used much of her vacation for the year and it was already October so she decided to take three of her four weeks all at once for this little excursion. That she felt utterly burned out and could use the time away was justification enough, not to mention the fact that this trip was bound to help spark her creativity. From sheer spontaneity alone.

  So she had gotten up before the sun this morning to start on the five-hour drive from the city to Chloe’s hometown. As she took in her surroundings, she was surprised that Chloe had moved back here after college. Chloe’s personality and vivaciousness just seemed too big for such a small
town to contain.

  But who was Emma to judge? Chloe had obviously found her happiness here, her niche, so Emma wasn’t about to cast stones. And this place had a picturesque kind of charm about it. The houses she passed all in a row on the streets were well kept and had a Victorian-era-meets-Home and Country kind of feel to them. The plentiful trees scattered through the various neighborhoods were tall and proud with the leaves just beginning to turn announcing that fall was approaching. As fall was by far her favorite season, she had to admit that the view was lovely.

  But from what Chloe had told her over the years, everyone here knew everyone else’s business and that wasn’t something Emma would want to live with day in and day out. She enjoyed her privacy and didn’t like the thought of living under a microscope. This was a nice place to visit but she wouldn’t want to live here, that was for sure.

  When she had arrived in town, she had checked into her motel and gotten herself situated before heading out to meet Chloe. She didn’t want to inconvenience her friend for three weeks and if her plan worked, the privacy of a motel room would be ideal.

  As she drove along, she found herself on what seemed to be the main drag of the town. There were a few small shopping plazas, some restaurants, a gas station, and last but not least, the bookstore she was looking for, happily situated right next to a cute little café.

  Snagging a spot close to the front of the store, Emma parked and got out of the car. A crisp breeze ruffled her hair away from her face and she pulled the lapels of her jacket tighter together. A couple walked along the sidewalk that connected the little café to the bookstore but Emma was too concerned with getting out of the wind to pay them any mind. At least until one of them called her name.

  “Are you Emma?” The feminine voice had Emma’s pace slowing as she turned to face the couple. Emma didn’t recognize the petite brunette. Still, out of politeness and curiosity she answered.