Seduced by the Anti-Hero

by Fine, L. J.

  Contents

  Seduced by the Anti-Hero

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Review Request

  About the Author

  Excerpt from The Artist's Provocateur

  SEDUCED BY THE ANTI-HERO (Serano Brothers, Book 2)

  By L.J. Fine

  www.ljfine.com

  LJ.Fine@yahoo.com

  Cover by: K-Lee Gaffney

  Editor:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  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, what had to come next after a statement like that.

  It didn’t surprise her when Jessica continued on to say, “Your characters are still just a little too far-fetched, specifically your hero, Charles.”

  Though not a surprise, the comment still rankled and before Emma 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 identify with 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. Though, an uncomfortable feeling at the base of her spine forced her to acknowledge - if even only on a subconscious level - that Jessica might be right. 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 started writing this story. Maybe she just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. 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,” Jessica hedged and Emma lifted her eyebrows hopefully. “He’s not very good in bed, is he?”

  All hope dissipated as she slapped her manuscript closed while her jaw dropped open.

  In her experience, most men had that problem, too selfish in the bedroom to worry whether or not their partner got off. But if she had to give Charles a flaw, that certainly shouldn’t be it. She wracked her brain to think back on the sex scenes in her manuscript and had to admit - once again only on a subconscious level - that she could see where Jessica was coming from. Even as she had been writing those scenes she had felt a lack of passion for the words pouring out of her and instead had felt the urge to get through it as quickly as possible. The fact that Jessica came right out and confronted her with it was proof positive that Emma had found herself a good critique partner. So she should probably be feeling grateful rather than the instant desire to get up and toss her manuscript into the trash on the way out the door.

  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 to pounce on Jessica to get her much awaited feedback on Emma’s latest attempt at a novel. She had thought she’d made some progress with this one. Now she found herself unsure as to 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 inspirational reading material.”

  Pulling a purse that could double as a suitcase up onto the table, Jessica rummaged through 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 time and time again 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 really 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, much smaller, 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 her away because Jessica lightly patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Emma. You definitely have the talent and the potential to make it as a 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 gain some confidence, let your muse off her leash, and you’ll be well on your way.”

  “Thank you. Having you say that really means a lot to me.” Emma could feel the warmth pouring from her smile as they both stood and made their way to the door. She clutched her manuscript tight to her chest as the passed the garbage can.

  Her mentor’s words 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 joined the group. She respected Jessica’s opinion and couldn’t quite believe the woman even took the time to read her stuff, let alone help her out. Emma would not be taking Jessica’s critique lightly.

  “Well, I mean it.” Jessica pushed the door open and headed into the brisk fall evening with Emma on her heels. “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 goodnight as she headed in the opposite direction to walk to few blocks to her apartment building. 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 well written she devoured that genre like it was her job. The problem was that when she sat dow
n to actually write those kinds of scenes, the words that she wanted to say never came out.

  Jessica was right, she lacked confidence. A deep-seated fear lived inside 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 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 to have had even one ground shaking memory to call forth to lend credibility to her work.

  But, unfortunately she’d had a grand total of two lovers in her lifetime. The first, a shy high school boyfriend she had 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 that she could think of. 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 that it would be easier to just break up.

  And then there was her last over - her ex-fiance 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 had read about. Though he had reassured her time and again that it wasn’t her fault, she had always secretly wondered if she had been doing something wrong.

  Of course, later she discovered the real problem. Rob was gay. Had pretty much known he was gay almost from the beginning but couldn’t admit it to himself. The two of them had gotten along so well on every other level, and his parents being strict Catholics, he wanted to give it the old college try. He had been so afraid to tell them the truth.

  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 did have her questioning how much she personally had to do with his decision to bat for the other team.

  Rationally, she knew that if you’re gay you’re gay no matter what. But, nevertheless, it didn’t do much for her confidence.

  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 had 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. In keeping with her usual pattern, she pulled a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. Though she had one of those frozen delicacies almost every night, she wasn’t exactly lean from the habit. She did enjoy some good chocolate so at least that part of Jessica’s advice would be easy enough to follow. Perhaps she didn’t meet society’s standards for the perfect body type but she liked her curves. As long as they stayed in all the right places and she remained in good health she had nothing to complain about.

  The microwave beeped and she took her meal and a bottle of water into the living room to watch some TV. Same old shit there, too.

  Come to think of it, her life had somehow morphed over the years into a mundane study in routine. Even her job working as a bank teller, processing the same kinds of transactions day in and day out, became mind-numbing after a while. Most nights just thinking of going into the branch in the morning had a piece of her creative soul curling up on its death bed. The only part of her life as of late that saw any action was her writing, which obviously needed a serious kick in the pants.

  Surveying her dull surroundings, she had a sudden epiphany. The lack of excitement in her bed wasn’t the only thing causing her writing to suffer. It was that nothing really all that interesting happened in her life at all. Period. Well, at least not since college. She needed to shake things up a bit. Throw herself wildly off course and gain some new perspective. Sitting cross-legged on her overstuffed loveseat, she folded a pillow in her arms across her lap and tried to recall the last fun or exhilaration thing she had done.

  Yep, 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 or another and occasionally Emma tagged along for the ride. Though they had moved away from each other after college, they still 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 padded over to where she had tossed her purse by the door and pulled her phone out. 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.”

  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 outlining generalities. Such as men who were thoughtful, considerate, passionate, refined, intelligent, self-sufficient, kind, confident without crossing the line into arrogance, 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. No one could measure up to those expectations. But it had also fueled her love of romance novels and had given her the inspiration to try her hand at weaving her own fairytales. Making her own happy endings even if life was determined to make real happily-ever-afters far and few between.

  She truly did believe 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 still clutched tightly in her fist.

  What she needed was a real 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 randomly invite herself for a visit after so long just for research purposes? What if her plan didn’t work? What if she couldn’t let go and let her guard down enough to make it work?

  Too many what-ifs and only one way to find out. Certainly, nothing would change if she kept doing nothing. If her little plan didn’t work 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 of Allenville, Pennsylvania as she drove down a quaint little street heading toward her ultimate destination: the bookstore in which Chloe worked. When she arrived in town, she had checked into her motel and gotten herself situation before heading out to meet Chloe. She didn’t want to inconvenience her friend during her stay and if her plan worked, the privacy of a motel room would be ideal.

  Once Emma had finally gotten ahold of Chloe, her
friend seemed thrilled with the idea of Emma coming to visit, a relief that 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 taken many days off this year and since it was already October she decided to take three of her four weeks for this little excursion. That she felt utterly burned out and could use the time away was justification enough, not to mention that this trip was bound to spark her creativity. From sheer spontaneity alone.

  She had gotten up before the sun this morning to start on the five-hour drive in her rented car from New York 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 kempt and had a Victorian era meets Home and Country kind of feel to them. The plentiful trees scattered through the various neighborhoods stood tall and proud with the brightly colored leaves announcing that fall had arrived. Fall being her favorite season, she had to admit that the view was lovely.

  Lovely and quaint though the town may be, from what Chloe had told her over the years, everyone here knew everyone else’s business. 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 life under a microscope. This might be a nice place to visit but certainly not ideal for a long-term residence, in her opinion.

  As she drove along, she found herself on what looked like 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 happily situated right next to a cute little cafe.