One of the joyous things about being a writer is the immense power it gives you to create whatever you want to create. If you say rain, the reader immediately pictures rain. If you say soft, gentle rain falling on pretty pink tulips you’ve in essence changed their original vision of rain and created a new vision complete with soft rain and pretty pink tulips. As writers we wield immense power with the words we write.
So, given we have this immense power to cause our readers to envision what we describe – one might wonder how we decide what to write about, what details to include in our fictional worlds, what details to leave out.
For me it’s a combination of things that direct my writing. Often the big idea is something that intrigues me in some way…that makes me wonder…hmmm…how does that work? I wonder why it works that way.
I set out writing to explore how it might work…in a fictional setting…with fictional characters.
For any book there are certain types of scenes that we need to craft in order show the progression of the characters’ romantic relationship from their first meeting to the moment when they commit to each other secure in the knowledge that they will live happily ever after. Since His Perfect Submissive is basically a story about the heroine learning to trust the hero to act in her best interests, to not abuse the trust she gives him, the scenes needed to show his utter trustworthiness and her gradually investing more trust in him.
Though there were specific kinds of scenes that needed to be crafted the specifics of the scenes left wide latitude…and in those scenes I found myself weaving in some of my favorite things.
There is an early scene in which the hero first shows that being dominant doesn’t mean riding roughshod over every decision. In that scene I wove in my favorite drink…Mountain Dew…and my favorite way of drinking it…from the fountain…with lots of ice.
I set the story in the time leading up to Christmas which is one of my favorite times of the year, and I included a few of my favorite things that make that time of the year special…along with my own feeling about Christmas lights.
In another scene I wove in my affection for fireplaces. The hero makes it clear that he chose the honeymoon cabin specifically because he thought the heroine would enjoy the fireplaces. Of course, she does like the fireplaces…but she likes that he chose the place with her in mind even more.
I added my love of back rubs in another scene where the hero comforts the heroine. My point is that though authors create stories from a bigger idea, the details they add…things like Mountain Dew…fireplaces…back rubs…the Christmas decorations are like little gifts that they give their readers. They use the immense power they have in the words they write to give the reader a little part of themselves. It’s like saying indirectly…I really like this…I think it’s cool. What do you think?
When Kara's brother embezzles $30,000 from Slade's company, Kara goes to Slade’s office determined to talk him out of going to the police.
Slade wants a peaceful, obedient, submissive with whom to share his life and in Kara he glimpses what he wants. He seizes the opportunity and makes Kara an offer she can't afford to refuse. The only way she can save her brother from certain prison is to accept Slade's marriage proposal and become his submissive.
Kara faces her wedding with anxiety. She can't tell Slade she can't submit sexually without risking her brother's freedom, yet she doubts she'll be able to keep her promise to be a submissive, obedient wife.
This romance explores the role of trust in even the most mismatched of partnerships and explores the complex connections between dominance and submission while it demonstrates the power of real love to heal even the deepest wounds.
Once they had given their order and found a seat in a quiet corner Slade slipped into the role of negotiator. It was a role he played often and one he was good at.
“I suppose you’re dying to know the particulars of the plan I’ve come up with.” He offered her what he hoped was a disarming smile.
She nodded, taking a sip of her drink.
“Well, it’s unconventional but it meets my needs and,” he drew in a deep breath, “I think it meets yours too.”
Kara nodded, and a strand of dark hair fell over her shoulder. Her dark eyes were fixed on his. She looked fragile, practically swallowed by the navy blue surgical scrub pants and top she wore.
“I don’t like the idea of you borrowing against your credit cards and your 401k. It’s not sound financially. It would put you in debt and you told me last time we met that you’ve already had a hard time financially. It’s also not fair to you. Your brother should pay back the money he stole. But, even if I did agree to it, it would only take care of half the problem. You’d still have monthly payments on the balance. With payments on the 401k loan and the credit cards and payments to me I’m afraid it would only make it difficult for you. It’s not an acceptable solution.”
“Mr. Westin, things have been hard because of my mom’s medicines, they cost a lot. But I assure you that I will pay you. I’ll get another job if that’s what it takes. I’ll do what I need to in order to keep my brother out of jail.”
“Your brother should be the one who pays the money back. I know you think it’s a good thing to help him out, but rescuing him isn’t teaching him anything. It’s allowing him to continue his behavior. Even if I was willing to take payments from Ted, payments and interest on thirty thousand would be pushing it for him, especially now that he doesn’t have a job.”
The look on her face told him that her brother’s unemployed status was news to her. But he plunged on. “I’ve decided to forget about the money, but there are a couple conditions.”
“Oh Mr. Westin that’s wonderful, but it doesn’t seem fair to you.” She was looking at him, her deep brown eyes shadowed with regret.
“I’m happy with the solution,” he assured.
“Well—what are the conditions?” she asked hesitantly.
“First, that you stay out of my way and let me deal with your brother on my own terms. He won’t get around me as easily as he does you. Second, your brother goes to regular gambler’s anonymous meetings. And third, you marry me.”
Kara shook her head as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What?”
He covered her small hand with his much larger one, ignoring her attempt to pull away. He rubbed the soft skin where her thumb joined her palm. “You heard me correctly. I want you to marry me, Kara. It’s the price for forgiving your brother’s theft and for not turning it over to the authorities.”
“Yes, Kara. I’m serious. If you agree to marry me and your brother agrees to treatment for his gambling I’ll rehire him into a position where he can’t get his hands on any money. He’ll be getting the help he needs, avoid jail, and have a job. You won’t be trying to pull everything together by yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you. I won’t be alone and that’ll make me happy.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“I like you, Kara. You have an aura of sweetness and innocence that lights my fire.”
“Mr. Westin!” she hissed. The way she looked around to see if anyone else had overheard and the pink that tinged her cheeks made him smile.
“Call me Slade, Kara.”
“Slade then.” He heard her deeply inhaled breath. “I don’t understand what you’d get out of this. I’m fat, I’m not rich, and I’m afraid I don’t know what to do with a fire once it’s lighted. I-uhm, I’ve never—uhm.” She blushed a deeper red and looked at the table as if she was thinking about crawling under it.
“You’re not fat. You’re beautifully proportioned, besides I like my women to have something to hold onto.” He let his eyes wander, taking in the smoothness of her skin, the squared shoulders, and the soft rise of her breasts, barely discernible beneath the scrub top she wore. I don’t care that you’re not wealthy. And I know you’ve never been with a man.” He caressed her hand again, “I knew when I looked up from the messages and saw you standing there in my office yesterday.”
“You did?” Her voice was tinged with horror. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not to everyone probably, but it was to me.” He let his eyes caress her, wishing he could pass some of the certainty he felt about the marriage on to her. “Don’t worry Kara, I’ll teach you everything you need to know about tamping my fires.”
“It’s—uhm—it’s not just not knowing—uhm—what to do.”
Given the way she was hemming and hawing and the bright red of her cheeks, he figured she was glad to be saved from further explanation by the arrival of their sandwiches. He waited for the waitress to leave before continuing. He left his sandwich untouched and plunged on. “There are a few things you need to know about me before you make your decision.”
He watched the uncertainty that flitted across her face as he searched for the right words to describe what he wanted. “I know it’s not politically correct, but what I want is an old fashioned marriage, one in which I take the lead. “It’s important that you understand that if you agree to become my wife our marriage will be built on my control and your submission to my authority. That doesn’t mean I won’t discuss things or that I won’t take your opinions into account, but it does mean I’ll make the final decisions.
“I’ve dated spoiled, obstinate women in the past and there’s no room in my life for that. I won’t do daily battle with my wife about who is going to make which decisions, nor will I put up with sullenness and temper tantrums. I’m laying it out from the beginning. I wear the pants and I make the decisions.”
He watched her face; unable to tell what she was thinking from the closed expression she wore. He continued on, taking it as a positive sign that she hadn’t gotten up and walked out. “One of the reasons I think it could be good between us is that you don’t seem willful or spoiled. You seem submissive and I like that. A lot. But even so, I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding later. If you were to marry me and behave like some of the women I’ve dated,” he sighed, “you probably wouldn’t like the outcome much.”
She shifted uneasily in her seat and avoided his gaze. “Exactly what do you mean, by that?” she asked, her attention focused on the straw wrapper she was twisting into a tight coil.