Because I include a smattering of erotic content in my novels doesn't mean that's all there is to them. The reason I do so is because my main heroic character shows up in the second chapter of my first novel in the series, The Last Solo Roller, as a midnight cowboy cruising the Midwest highways on a red Harley in search of clients. I refer to those clients as "solo rollers" because they are women who travel across the Plains states by themselves for one reason or another. My hero calls himself "Boone" and he's a delicious tall blonde blue-eyed cowboy who knows his way around a woman's libido like Einstein did the theory of relativity.
However, there is so much more to the cowboy than meets the eye. Four published novels (so far) unpeel the onion that is William Boone, each revealing more and more of the love-machine that open our eyes and our hearts wider than we thought we could at the end of The Last Solo Roller to his complicated and amazing life.
And it all unfolds because he bumps into the one solo roller (well, sort of) who leaves him breathless when she flees from his arms. Christine Monroe is a Chicago public defender who has no idea who she really is. When the secret of her past is revealed, she hurries to the aid of grandparents she knew nothing about all her life. On the way, she bumps into Boone. If a tornado could take human form, it would be her. And the cowboy got sucked in to the whirlwind.
Warned by well-meaning small-town cops that his precious red Harley might attract the wrong kind of attention, Boone fails to heed advice and ends up falling down a prairie rabbit hole with the one woman who had rejected him.
It's not a silly sophomoric love story with a lot of gratuitous sex. I'm annoyed that I had to list my tales as erotic romances merely for the reason that there are some very steamy scenes. They're part of the story of Boone and Christine, a male prostitute and a female lawyer. They're part of what develops down that rabbit hole.
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