What makes a character memorable? I think for everyone that answer is different. For me, the Outlaw Josey Wales is a standout movie character. I’m not sure why. He’s not particularly likable. Another one, from TV, is Raylan Givens, the main character of Justified. Again, not always likable. But he won’t let me go, long after the episode is concluded.
I could argue what makes both characters unforgettable is their flaws.
In Promise Me Eden, Adam Pelletier is a good man, but a flawed one. He’s at the end of his rope because he can’t figure out how to help his wife with her debilitating depression. Their son was stillborn and his way of grieving is like a lot of men—by throwing himself into work so he won’t have to deal with his emotions. Eden is even more hurt by his actions. She thinks he doesn’t care, when in truth he’s as broken as she is.
When Adam and Eden split up over their different mourning styles, he makes a really dumb mistake. I hope this scene will make him, if not likable, relatable.
Adam Pelletier is at the end of his rope. He can’t figure a way to help his wife recover from the tragic stillbirth of their son. He hasn’t forgotten their boy, but Adam has pushed his grief down deep and is coping the only way he knows how—by refusing to focus on his loss and burying himself in work.
Eden Pelletier is lost in grief. The pain for her is unbearable. So much so she’s in a deep hole of depression she can’t climb out of. Unable to do anything but think about her dead son, she can’t understand why Adam is able to put him aside and carry on. She’s so heartbroken she’s lost her job. When Adam pushes her to get up and move on, she lashes out—asking for a divorce she doesn’t want.
Can Adam win his wife back before it’s too late?
Carrying the bouquet of yellow daffodils meant for Eden, Maura entered Adam’s house. She gave him a flirtatious smile as she stepped over the threshold. Adam ignored the guilt churning in his gut. He hadn’t left Eden. She deserted him.
Leaving the lights low, hoping Maura wouldn’t be grossed out by the condition of his dirty house, Adam led her to the couch. Swiping a pile of newspapers and unfolded clothes to the floor, he sat and pulled Maura across his lap. He tossed his Stetson aside and wrapped his arms around her. “You smell good.”
Her tongue touched his ear and a shudder ripped through him. “You taste good.”
Her words conjured up images of her mouth a lot lower, and his cock jumped to attention, eager for her touch. He wrapped his hand in her hair and dragged her lips to his. There was no teasing, no seductive caresses. Instead, he ravaged her mouth. She met the thrusts of his tongue with equal eagerness. Her hand circled his neck, holding him prisoner. He didn’t need much encouragement.
He slid his hand under her loose blouse and found her braless breast. Small, taut, enticing. Her nipple hard against his palm. He tweaked it and she moaned. Together, they removed her top and his, tossing them aside.
She straddled him, her hands cupping his face as he claimed her mouth again. She rode up tight against his erection, their jeans a frustrating barrier. Adam swelled so hard he thought he’d bust through his fly. If he didn’t get out of his Levi’s and inside her, he’d go mad. He reached for her zipper, and she helped him slide it down. She bent and sucked his neck, her hair in his face.
Her black jeans fell open. He kicked off his boots.
He splayed his hand across her flat belly, and it gave him momentary pause. But his pulsing erection pushed him forward, and he slid his palm down her stomach, under her panties and into the silky curls between her legs. Dipping his middle finger into her wet center, he pressed deep until she moaned into his mouth and her hips rocked in a steady rhythm with the tune he set.
He took his mouth from hers and dipped it to a nipple. He sucked deep, and her vagina clenched in orgasm. Her scream pierced his eardrums before she sagged against him, her nipples pressing like twin shards against his chest. “My God.”
He smoothed her hair away from her face. “Good?”
She ducked her head into his chest. “Yeah.”
A low chuckle rumbled out of him.
Slipping to the floor, still caught between his legs, she reached for his fly. Shimmying, he helped her tug off his jeans. He kicked them aside, uncaring where they landed.
“Do you have a rubber?”
“Yeah. I’ll go get ’em,” he said in a guttural voice.
She didn’t have to ask twice. Adam hustled into the kitchen where he’d dropped the grocery bag with the coffee and condoms. Grabbing the box, he ripped it open, grabbed two foil packets and carried them back into the living room. He stopped at the stereo system and turned on the CD player. Soft country music filled the air.
Maura lay splayed across the couch, her legs open. “Come here.”
He obeyed, opening one of the foil wrapped condoms as he crossed the room. Already sheathed, he moved between her parted thighs. He braced on his elbows, keeping his weight off her, and kissed her again. The tip of his erection moved against her slick opening.
“Love me,” she pleaded.
He closed his eyes and moved his mouth to her ear. “I’ve waited so long.”
“No more waiting.” She urged him to mount her with her hands on his hips. “Now, Adam, now.”
“I want you, baby.” He pressed forward, heaven waited. “Sweet Eden.”
She shoved his chest. “Eden? What the hell?”
His eyes flew open and reality crashed over him. This wasn’t Eden. It was Maura. “Maura. I meant Maura.”
Moments before, her eyes had been filled with desire. Now they were filled with anger and hurt. “The hell you say.”
She shoved him again, and he stood, erection fading fast. “I know who you are.”
She climbed to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. With her dark, curly hair tumbling around her pale shoulders and her eyes flashing, she looked like a goddess. But he didn’t want her. He desired his wife. “Do you, Adam? Because as long as I can remember, it’s been Eden you want. Not me.”
He stood silent because he couldn’t deny it. Maura was a beautiful girl, but she wasn’t the one he wanted. “I’ll drive you home.”
Still speaking as she jerked her shirt over her head and shimmied into her tight jeans, she said, “You better find a way to get your wife back, or you’re going to have one long, lonely life.”
He slipped on his clothes. “I’m sorry, Maura.”
She spun to face him. “I’m not. Because this”—she waved her hand—“showed me once and for all I’m never going to stand a chance with you.”
He held her coat and she slid into it. “There’s a million guys who would die to be with you. I’m just not the right one.”
“I guess not.” She pressed a light kiss to his lips. “You better figure out how to get your wife back before it’s too late.”
As he crammed on his hat, he feared it already was.
Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade, D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and never looked back. Romance appeals to her because there’s just something so satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. D’Ann’s particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them. This is probably because she draws inspiration from the area where she lives, Western Colorado, her husband of twenty-nine years and their daughter. Composites of their small farm, herd of horses, five Australian shepherds, a Queensland heeler, eight ducks and cats of every shape and color often show up in her stories!
A Cowboy To Keep: