I'm working on the sequels to my book LANDLOCKED. The series is titled PIRATES AT HEART. Book two will be called SMUGGLER'S BLUES and the third SAILOR'S KNOT. I'm thrilled that Ellora's Cave has chosen to contract both! Since the male lead of LANDLOCKED was my first bad boy character, he's so much fun to write about because he walks that fine line between scoundrel and hero. Spending so much time with Capt. Brett Logan Jr. has go me thinking--bad boys, why do we love them so?
Bad boys...mmm, yes, bad boys. They are a staple of literature and
film, especially the romance genre. Why is it that we love them so?
I
think it’s the adventure the bad boy offers that draws readers to
this kind of hero. A real life bad boy can be a disaster and
downright dangerous so I think indulging the fantasy in fiction is a
safe way to experience a rogue lover without all the real life
headaches.
My
favorite take on this theme is Disney’s Pirates of The Caribbean
series. I’m totally enamored of Captain Jack Sparrow. Those movies
are one of the reason’s I decided to create a pirate character in
the first place. Though my captain is very different from the
traditional movie/romance pirate, he’s still very much a bad boy
who turns out to have a heart of gold beneath his gruff exterior.
Captain
Brett Logan, Jr—the main character for the first two PIRATES AT HEART series—was so much fun to create. It’s no secret I have a
soft spot for bad girls and this was the first time I’d undertaken
a real bad boy. A pirate, smuggler and outlaw, Logan lives life on
the edge, running from the ghosts of the past when he trips over a
future with the only woman he’s ever dared to love. But never
having created this type of character before, I had to look to other
examples in fiction to help steer me in the right direction.
I
took a dash of Captain Jack Sparrow from the PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN
series, a pinch of Raylan Givens from JUSTIFIED, a little Batman and
a bit of rogue from old-fashioned romance novels and voila! Out came
Brett Logan. I hope my tribute to this time honored character-type
holds his own and thrills the readers as much as he thrilled me to
write about.
Here’s
a quick look at LANDLOCKED:
Blurb:
For ten years, Kathryn has
struggled to survive in a war-torn region that used to be part of the
United States. Her country ripped apart and her husband presumed
dead, she and her son need a miracle to find safe passage to the
West. She’s not expecting that miracle to come in the form of
Captain Brett Logan when he stumbles, injured, onto her front porch.
A privateer for the Republic
of Texas, Logan keeps one eye on the horizon and one hand on his
sidearm, knowing the life of a modern-day pirate is often short. When
an enemy bomb nearly ends him, Kathryn nurses him back to health.
Against her better judgment, she’s drawn to the enigmatic man with
his tattoos and battle scars.
Kate
finds shelter in Logan’s arms—and his bed. The captain navigates
her body with the same skill that he sails the seven seas. The heat
of their passion gives way to deeper currents. But with danger
surrounding them, they must struggle to stay together and survive.
Excerpt:
Saline
spray rose up off the ocean and Captain Logan’s purse seiner, The
Yellow Rose,
carved her way through the choppy Gulf of Mexico waters. A garish
vessel, painted red, white and blue, it flew the Texas flag and
operated under the protection those colors afforded. Despite the
blockades along the Gulf Coast and the trouble up North, his ship was
rarely boarded by Reformer inspectors. The old adage still rang
true—Don’t
mess with Texas—a
fact Captain Logan relied upon. And exploited.
His
small crew did busywork to ready the ship for dock. He checked the
horizon with his binoculars. Even with the maximum magnification, the
island of Galveston appeared as a mere smudge in the distance. Still,
they were making good time. In another hour or so, they’d make
port. The sizable man sank into his seat on the bridge. Weary from
over two weeks either at sea or lying low in the swamps of Gulfland,
he looked forward to a few days at home. No more salt cod and
flatbread or canned beef stew. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth
into an Angus burger. Or a porterhouse. Or Blanca’s barbecue
brisket. His lean stomach growled and the thought of Blanca reminded
him of other neglected needs.
Jacques,
his first mate, peeked into the doorway. “Everything’s
shipshape, mon
capitaine.”
The dark-skinned creole laughed at his favorite joke.
Logan
did his best to crack a smile. No matter how long between ports,
Jacques DuBois was always in a good mood, a quality that annoyed the
captain to no end.
“Is
the extra cargo well sealed?”
“Bien
sûr. Don’t
worry.” Jacques clapped an arm around his friend. “We’ve done
this a couple times before.”
At
this Logan did laugh. In truth, they’d done this same run along the
Gulfland coast well over two hundred times, and every time they came
back loaded down with silver, gold and Republic credits that would be
hard to explain for a humble fishing vessel.
Pouring
a shot of tequila for himself and one for Logan, the man pulled up a
wooden crate to sit on. “I’m worried about you.”
The
captain threw back his drink and let the burn fade before he replied,
“What on earth for?”
“You
look tired. Not the kind of tired that a few days rest will fix, but
deep down soul kind of tired. That raid last month got bloody.”
“Wasn’t
my blood, so what’s the big deal?”
“I’m
just saying, with that sort of thing hanging over his head, a man can
get sloppy, make mistakes.”
Logan
shrugged. Heads rolled in the course of his business. Jacques knew
that as well as anyone else. And all their men came home. The same
couldn’t be said for that band of Reformer troops. Oh well. Foreign
bastards had invaded the United States at its weakest and torn it
apart. To hell with all of them.
“If
you don’t want to come on the next run, that’s fine.”
“Don’t
get me wrong, mon
ami.”
Jacques rolled his glass between his thick hands. “I’m just
telling you what I hear.”
“So
the rest of the crew has lost confidence in me too?”
Jacques
got to his feet and shook his head. “You’re the most pigheaded—
I’m not saying anyone’s lost confidence, but there’s a reason
they call you ‘Loco Logan’. I’m saying you need to take a
longer break.”
“I’ll
take it under advisement,” Logan said, though he had no intention
of doing so. He scooted down into his chair and pulled his Stetson
over his gray eyes. “Wake me when we make port.”
“Aye,
Captain.”
The slaps
of Jacques’ boot soles against the ship’s teak deck receded as
Logan gave over to the pull of sleep.
Cindy’s
links:
Twitter -
@cindyjacks
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