Wednesday, June 25, 2014

How many of you are perfect?

How many of you are perfect? I doubt anyone answered in the affirmative, and if you did, you’re probably delusional, so go ahead and continue believing it. The fact is there’s no such thing as a perfect person. Everyone has flaws. That’s why when I read a book in which the heroine doesn’t have a single one, I grow bored and have a difficult time rooting for the characters. 

For my four-part erotic suspense serial, White Collared, I wanted to write a heroine-driven story. Kate is intelligent, beautiful, athletic, and tough. She’s an expert marksman, rides a Harley, and would rather go fishing than eat lobster at a five-star restaurant.  

To balance her amazing qualities, I gave her a major flaw. Kate is a drug addict. Not the kind that snorts it up her nose or injects it into a vein, but a prescription pill popper. She medicates with anti-anxiety pills and occasionally alcohol, to numb herself from the painful teenage memories. Her addiction affects every aspect of her life from relationships to her career.  This flaw helped to create a more realistic heroine because nobody is perfect, and I wouldn’t want to read about one who is.


Driven by ambition …

Third-year law student Kate Martin outran her tragic past to become an intern for her idol and secret crush, the powerful attorney Nicholas Trenton. She is thrilled when Nick assigns her to represent his best friend and client, millionaire Jaxon Deveroux … the prime suspect in his submissive wife Alyssa's murder.

Seduced by desire …

Kate knows they have only a few days to find the real killer, and since signs point to a member of the BDSM community, she volunteers to go undercover as Jaxon's submissive at Benediction—the private sex club where he is a member—to covertly investigate Alyssa's last few months. For years, Kate has kept her dark fantasies a secret … but a chance to explore them with sexy, dominant Jaxon is just too tempting to pass up.

She hadn’t stepped into a police station in ten years, but the memory of that harrowing day crashed into her with the force and velocity of a gunshot. Her chest tightened as she tried to breathe. In an attempt to ward off the anxiety attack, she counted backward from one hundred.

Her boss leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’re okay. Breathe through your nose.”

Pressing her lips together, she sucked air through her nose, expanding her lungs with precious oxygen. How had he known?

“Thank you,” the officer said into the phone. He hung up, picked up a notebook, flipped it open, and handed Mr. Trenton a pen. “You two need to sign in.”

Her boss signed his name before giving her the pen. Hands shaking, she supplied her barely legible information. After she gave back the notebook, the officer buzzed them in and pointed behind him. “Go through those doors to room three, second room on the left.”

As Mr. Trenton stepped in front of her, she surreptitiously obtained a small pill from her Tic Tac dispenser in her purse and slipped it in her mouth. When they got to the interrogation room, he knocked on the door.

Anticipation boiled in her blood. Something was wrong with how eager she was to meet her client, a man who would find himself under suspicion of his wife’s murder even if he was innocent of the crime.

Could she defend a man if she believed he was guilty?

As the door opened and her sight fell on the man hunched over a table, she had a feeling she’d soon find out.




A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes sensual romance often with a bit of kink and action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kick-ass heroines.

She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.


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