What Makes a Hero, a Hero?

By Sophie Greyson (Guest Blogger)

Your car has broken down - again. You’re stranded on the side of the road, your cell phone battery has died, and it’s a hundred and eighty degrees outside. Your hair, which is in desperate need of highlights, is plastered to your forehead like seaweed, and your makeup has slowly made its way down your face to hang off your chin. And of course, you’re wearing that outfit that fits a little too snug around your middle, but you refuse to buy up a bigger size. You’re going to lose those five pounds – as soon as you get out of this mess.

And as soon as Blue Bell quits making Banana Pudding ice cream.

You hear the speed, the whine as it races towards you. A sleek, black Porsche Boxster skids to a stop in front of you along the gulf shore highway. Waves pound the beach as the wind whirls sand through the air and into your face. Heat rises from the concrete in waves as the driver door is thrown open against the setting sun. A man emerges, long, lithe, muscular. Shutting the door, he stops to check his hair and teeth in the side mirror before turning towards you wearing a pale pink polo, deck shoes and plaid shorts. He yells at you across the distance that he is calling a tow truck.

Skreech. Wait. What?

Stop the presses.

OK, a show of hands: When you were a little girl, did you say, “One day my prince will come. He will be tall, handsome, wear plaid shorts and have the ability to call tow trucks in a single speed dial.” Swoon.

Odds are, that would be a no.

In the distance, you hear a rumble. Nothing too loud, but you know, instinctively, power is near. Shading your eyes with your hand, you make out a motorcycle in the distance. A lone rider, with shoulders as wide as the street lane and hips as lean as the seat his cheeks rest upon, rolls to a stop beside you. Was that sizzle coming from the pavement, or from him? Biceps the size of tree trunks catch your attention first: hard, taut, straining as though they laugh at the tight black tee sleeves trying to confine them.

The rider unfolds from his bike, pulls off his helmet. You gasp. Midnight black hair cut stylishly long whips around his face, while his piercing, sky blue eyes sparkle with knowing confidence. He takes in your appearance in a single, hot glance, paying particular attention to the one area you know always got you attention no matter what blouse you wore – your smile.

He looks under your hood and knows exactly what to do. He tells you he can take care of it. But suddenly, he flips your car keys to the guy with the Porsche, grabs you around the waist, and tosses you onto the motorcycle seat in front of him. You ride off into the sunset, leaving the Porsche owner and his plaid shorts behind.

Sigh…

Which is the hero to you?

I know what you’re thinking: is she so shallow that she thinks it all about a hero’s looks?

No. Not at all.

I’m not like that.

Really.

But, it is a scientific fact that women subconsciously want to be dominated. They want to be taken care of, whether they admit it – realize it – or not.

So, you’re thinking: the guy in the Porsche was going to take care of you. He called a tow truck, didn’t he?

The difference between him and the loner?

He didn’t take charge.

You could have called the tow truck, if he had just handed you the phone.

The loner, on the other hand, rode onto the scene, assessed the situation, and made a decision. He decided the other guy was an idiot for wasting time calling a tow truck when there was beautiful woman standing in front of him. He realized the car wasn’t worth the time, but you were.

You had only thought you were having a bad day. But, your subconscious dreams had come true. A hero had stepped in and taken care of the situation. You were no longer stranded. He made the decision for you. Just ditch the car. He would handle your ride from now on – if you know what I mean. He thought you beautiful despite your bedraggled appearance. And you realized you didn’t have to look like a cover model to win a hero.

What’s not to love?

Yes, Mr. Polo ad may have had some potential, but with a face that was prettier than yours and a skin care regimen that rivaled Christie Brinkley’s, what would you gain other than some competition for the bathroom mirror?

Sometimes, a woman just doesn’t want to have to think.

And that’s where romance novels come in. They carry you away from reality better than any bubble bath ever could. To a place where you don’t have to make the decisions. Where a hero can actually decide what to do for dinner and how to get the car fixed.

I can assure you, you will never find a hero in any of my books that wears a pink polo and calls tow trucks. Alpha rules in the House of Greyson, and alpha is looking pretty darn fine while he’s in residence, too. So, yes, maybe I am a bit partial to hot heroes. Like that’s a bad thing?

I hope you will pick up a copy of my premier novel, Heaven’s Scent, available now in e-book at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Smashwords. My hero, Rafe, is smokin’ - the ultimate alpha male. My heroine, Tarin, has her hands full him. As a reader, you may not have to think, but poor Tarin’s brain is on overload.

So, sit back, relax the mind, and enjoy some down time in the 19^th century.

Blurb

On her deathbed, Lady Jane Worthington makes her eight-year-old daughter, Tarin, promise her three things: live life as she pleases, do not allow her father to arrange her marriage and, most of all, marry for love.

After witnessing her mother's suffering and subsequent death, Tarin is determined to save others from the same fate. And nothing, not her noble status, nor society's belief that women cannot be doctors, will keep her from making Gregory's first female medical college a reality.

Rafe Sutherland, long-lost Brahmin rogue turned Texas Ranger, returns home after his father‘s mysterious death, bearing secrets. Rafe’s wildly virile and arrogant persona, as well as his animosity with a college-supporting suitor, threatens Tarin's plans. And her father's continual matchmaking with the national hero makes Rafe completely out of the question.

What Tarin doesn’t realize is that Rafe comes with a little help from above, and what mother wants, mother gets.

Bio: Sophie Greyson lives in Texas with her husband and numerous saltwater fish. The mother of two grown children, Sophie works by day in accounting and human resources management. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, movies, watching The Voice and Once Upon a Time, and driving her Camaro.

Connect with me online: www.sophiegreyson.com , www.twitter.com/sophiegreyson or www.facebook.com/sophiegreysontx

Leave a comment on this blog between now and midnight, August 18th, and you could win a free copy of Heaven Scent!