I had a dream last night (no, it won't be put into another story) were I was sitting in a restaurant in Pike Place Market, downtown Seattle, being interviewed by a young reporter for the romance writers' convention. He looked like Jerad Leto, with black hair, dreamy blue eyes, and lashes long and dark, like he wore too much eyeliner. He was giving me the eye despite the ring on my left hand and it was pretty obvious he'd gotten most of his interviews by using his good-looks. He was young, probably mid-twenties and I found his seductive come-hither looks amusing.
He was trying to find out more about me and the woman I'd just been visiting; the grand Pooh-bah of the convention (I'm not sure why she was so important, but she was). He was trying to get the inside scoop on her, as if she was the Queen of England or the First Lady of the US, and I'd just come from speaking with her. It was pretty funny, but I'm not a gossip, so he didn't get much from me.
At some point during our "interview", Christina Dodd, one of my favorite romance authors, came over and sat down, listening with half an ear to our conversation. I greeted her and waited for the reporter to ask her name, but he was doing his best to focus on me, trying to draw me out. Apparently, he thought I was "hawt".
Christina finally said, "I think your ride's here," and pointed toward the door. We all turned our heads to look and there he was. He wasn't the tallest guy I'd ever seen, but he stood at about 6 feet, with long dark hair falling over his broad shoulders and a dark goatee on his face. A black Stetson cowboy hat covered the top half of his face and a black leather duster fell to his booted ankles. Water dripped off the brim of the hat and slid down his coat to pool at his feet.
"Yep, thanks, Chris. Nice to meet you," I said to the reporter. I rose, gathered my coat and laptop bag, and headed toward the sexy man in the Stetson. When I reached him, he grinned, tilted his head and gave me a sweet, sweet kiss, before taking my raincoat and helping me into it. Then he ushered me out into the rain.
The man in the Stetson is my husband and he just gets better and better looking the longer I'm with him. He's my favorite "hero". He wakes up next to me every morning and cooks me dinner each night. He also cleaned out the garage this weekend. Love you, Handsome.
(BTW, my dream continued after "I" left and Christina asked if he knew who he'd been talking to. When he said no, she said, "That was Siobhan Muir." At his blank look, she added, "You don't know who Siobhan Muir is? What about Christina Dodd? Kate Pearce? Sabrina Jeffries? Kresley Cole?" He shook his head no and she asked, "Then why are you here doing an article on a romance writer's convention?") Good question. :)
Do you have a favorite type of hero? Is he a strong, aloof cowboy? Is he a military man from the future, like the bad-ass guys from Halo? Is he a doctor, a scientist (mad or otherwise), a fireman, a cop? Is he SWAT or a Navy SEAL? A Marine or a Top Gun? Is he the Bad Boy Biker Dude or the smart, sneaky thief? Is he the "anti-hero" like Vin Diesel in The Chronicles of Riddick? What is your favorite type of hero?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are on moderation, so they'll become visible once I've read them. Words, words, words. I love them. Have you a few to lend?
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.