Julie here, and okay, right off the bat—if a blog is entitled “The
Melt Factor,” I am SO there!! And if that same blog is written by one of my favorite
authors and friends, well then, honey, I’m pullin’ up a chair for a front-row
seat! But ... if that dear friend just released one of THE BEST historical romances I have EVER read, then, darlin'— I'm gonna gush like a fountain.
Let me go on record right now to say that Laura Frantz's newest release Love's Reckoning literally—and I do mean literally, as in my chest was so tight I could barely breathe—took my breath away. I have never experienced that with a romance before, where the prose and the tension was so powerful that my chest was tight and my breathing shallow. And, yes, I suppose it could have been my atrial fibrillation acting up despite my medicine, but I don't think so. Laura Frantz is just THAT good at writing historical romance to curl your toes, your hair and your fingers around the edges of the book. And so it should come as no surprise that I had no problem writing the following endorsement:
Stunning.
Heart-wrenching. Breathless. Not since Gone
With the Wind have I read an epic novel that has stolen my heart, my
breath, my sleep to such a jolting degree. Love’s
Reckoning marks Laura Frantz not only as a shining star in Christian
fiction today, but a shooting star who soars skyward to the glittering heights
of Rivers and Higgs.
Without further ado, I give you my dear friend, Laura Frantz.
The Melt Factor
I'm getting ready to create my 11th hero:). So far we
have Ian, Captain Jack, Red Shirt, Colonel McLinn, and a couple you've yet to
meet. If I dig deep in my antique trunk, I'll unearth those unsung heroes
who'll never see the light of day ~ Matthew, Stephen, Winston Cade Cabot Luce,
the 7th Duke of Devlin (isn't that atrocious? He was from my college days!),
and there are one or two I can't remember which were less than memorable. Which
brings me to the point of this post…
Heroes must be memorable:)
I will confess I felt a little like one of my heroines when I saw the man in this picture on Pinterest recently. I melted. It’s none other than Eoin Macken, Irish actor in the BBC’s Merlin series. There's something so irresistibly handsome about him - perhaps even heroic. Happily married woman that I am, I was instantly smitten! This picture might not have the same effect on you and that's okay. Everyone has a different melting point;)
I love creating heroes even more than heroines. A hero doesn't have to be handsome. But his soul and spirit should be. He can be angry but never whiny. He can be lost but there has to be the ring of redemption about him. He must be flawed. But strong. Your hero should be so compelling that you find yourself thinking about him when you're not writing. That goes for your heroine, too. I always say my characters are as real to me as my own family members - and I'm not exaggerating! Hopefully you feel the same about the hero you’re writing about – or reading about.
I will confess I felt a little like one of my heroines when I saw the man in this picture on Pinterest recently. I melted. It’s none other than Eoin Macken, Irish actor in the BBC’s Merlin series. There's something so irresistibly handsome about him - perhaps even heroic. Happily married woman that I am, I was instantly smitten! This picture might not have the same effect on you and that's okay. Everyone has a different melting point;)
I love creating heroes even more than heroines. A hero doesn't have to be handsome. But his soul and spirit should be. He can be angry but never whiny. He can be lost but there has to be the ring of redemption about him. He must be flawed. But strong. Your hero should be so compelling that you find yourself thinking about him when you're not writing. That goes for your heroine, too. I always say my characters are as real to me as my own family members - and I'm not exaggerating! Hopefully you feel the same about the hero you’re writing about – or reading about.
In
my latest release, Love’s Reckoning, I
have a Scottish hero named Silas Ballantyne. Here’s a sneak peek at a favorite scene, designed to make my
heroine melt. We’ll see if she does…
The rain was soaking her cloak; it lay like a second skin over
her linen dress, bulky and overwarm, so at odds with the icy finger trailing
down her spine. Someone was following her—riding hard and fast, as much as the
mud and weather would allow. She veered off the trail, the abrupt motion nearly
spilling her from the saddle. Thunder rumbled, and she sensed Sparrow’s panic
before her frantic neighing began. Another boom and Sparrow bolted, straight
into the path of a man. He turned his horse sideways and cut them off.
Silas!
The sudden stop unseated her from her horse, and she fell to the
ground in an ungracious heap. But she didn’t care. She was crying in sheer
relief, thankful when he reached down and pulled her to her feet.
“Eden, are you hurt?” A wealth of emotion shook his voice.
Surprise. Chagrin. Unchecked happiness. Taking hold of Sparrow’s reins, he led
them beneath a sheltering elm till a flash of lightning sent them scurrying
toward a rock overhang that looked to be the start of a cave. There they stood,
dripping wet and speechless.
This close, she could see shadows beneath his eyes, the scruffy
beginnings of a beard, the firm set of his features beneath the brim of a new
felt hat.
His chest heaved beneath his sodden greatcoat. “Why in heaven’s
name have you come?”
“Your supplies—” Her own chest rose and fell from her frenzied
ride. “You left them.”
The light faded from his eyes. “You came all this way through the
storm—for that?”
“Why else would I come?”
He ran a hand over his bristled jaw and glanced at the surly sky.
“Because you miss me, mayhap. Because you have something to tell me. Because
you want to go west.”
All shyness fell away and she looked hard at him in surprise.
“With a man who thinks of me as a sister?”
“Och, Eden.” A flash of exasperation rode his handsome features,
and he came nearer, his eyes a soul-searching green. “A sister? Nae.” His
fingers skimmed her bruised chin. “You’re more than that to
me . . . far more.”
“More?”
In answer he began slowly untying the chin ribbons of her bonnet,
knotting the ends so that it dangled down her back. She waited
expectantly—breathlessly—as he removed his own wet hat, setting it atop a lichen-edged
rock jutting from the cave wall. Despite her cumbersome cloak, the touch of his
hands on her shoulders sent a delicious shiver clear to her bones. He pulled
her nearer, and she was enveloped in the heady scent of wet leather and her own
soft soap. His mouth found hers at last, feather-light then firm.
Her first kiss.
She felt a breathless bewilderment that she didn’t know what to
do—where to put her hands, how to tilt her head. But he did. As he deepened
each kiss, she nearly swayed. This was so . . . exquisite. So
unexpected. Instinctively, her arms circled his neck as he held her tighter,
nearly lifting her off the ground. She grew so weak with longing she gave a
little cry when he released her.
Leaning back against the rock wall, crushing her bonnet, she felt
naught like the Eden of old but some wild, untamed creature. He’d stirred to
life every feeling she had and a few she never knew existed, and she had no
wish to tuck such feelings away. She’d been brought to the brink of something
new, something glorious, and felt suddenly and achingly unfinished.
She reached for him again. “Silas, please . . .”
He leaned into the ledge beside her, eyes dark with desire, his
breathing a bit ragged. “Nae, Eden. I’ll not love you here, but somewhere safe,
sound—and rightly wed. As you deserve.”
Was that what was missing, then? The Lord’s blessing? Her eyes
roamed his handsome features, seeing him in a new light. The self-contained
Silas of old was gone, and in his place was a man who loved her—wanted her—and
was about to leave her. Though she bit her lip till it nearly bled, anguished
sobs tumbled out of her and she was back in his arms, not wanting his comfort
so much as his kisses.
“I have your heart, and you have mine,” he whispered. “’Tis
enough, aye? For now?”
But she couldn’t answer because it wasn’t enough, not nearly
enough. How could it be with a wilderness between them?
He held her, smoothing her damp hair back from her face,
whispering things she’d never thought to hear. And then, in silent agony, she watched
as he went back into the rain and rounded up their horses. They’d ride out into
the storm because it was no longer safe for them to stay here alone and in each
other’s arms.
GIVEAWAY:
Okay, take the hero you're either reading about or writing about. What is it about him that lends to the "melt factor"? Were you smitten right away? Or did he grow on you? Leave your answer in a comment or just leave a comment and you will be entered to win Laura's latest, Love's Reckoning. TWO giveaways, so TWO chances to win! Good luck!!
BIO:
Laura Frantz credits her grandmother as being the catalyst
for her fascination with history. Frantz's family followed Daniel Boone into
Kentucky in the late 18th-century and settled in Madison County, where her
family still resides. Frantz is the author of The Frontiersman's Daughter and Courting
Morrow Little, both Carol Award Finalists, and The Colonel's Lady, Readers
Choice/Family Fiction Awards for Historical Novel of the Year and Author
of the Year. She is currently working on her new historical series, The
Ballantyne Legacy, and lives in the misty woods of Washington with her husband
and two sons.
