Every good romance novel needs a hero, and my favorite type of hero is the Alpha hero. Writing an alpha hero doesn't mean you have to resort to a grunting, demanding, caveman playboy. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Nor does it mean you must write a big, muscley dude built like a brick shithouse. (And there is certainly nothing wrong with that!) Over the years since I wrote my bad boy series, I've gained a reputation of writing alphas who are, well... kind. Hard bodied, sure. Full of themselves, absolutely. But dig deeper with one of my heroes and you’ll find that underneath their hard cookie crust is a soft, gooey center.

When you’re writing your own alpha hero, try not to be bogged down with what an alpha hero is “supposed” to look like. I wrote an entire series of bad boys that were not what the industry defined as “bad boys” back then. That said, I carved out a space for my own kind of bad boy, a Jessica-Lemmon bad boy if you will. You will find your voice lends itself to certain attributes as you write different characters.

But for the sake of being clear, let’s talk about how to nudge your beta hero into alpha territory. I have 3 simple steps that will help you in this endeavor. Let’s get started~

(1) Lose the maybes.

Alphas don’t waffle. They are certain. Take this example for, well, example:

Maybe she was thinking about him and maybe she wasn't. She probably thought he was a knuckle-dragging caveman when in reality, his balls were in a sling of her making. Anna might own his ass at work, but he was the one who wanted to own her in bed.

Let’s lose the maybes and see how that sounds…

She was thinking about him. She had to be. He'd been consumed with thoughts of her, so it seemed only fair. Sure, she saw him as a knuckle-dragging caveman, but what she didn't know was that his balls were in a sling of her making. Anna owned his ass at work, but he was the one who would soon own her in bed.

See the difference? By making our fictional hero (who I now want to write a book about, LOL) certain about what he's thinking, he’s deeper into alpha territory.

(2) Don’t ask questions.

Here's a simple trick I used when I was writing Bringing Home the Bad Boy. Evan doesn't ask a lot (or any?!) questions in that book. Early on, I decided to lose the question marks when forming Evan's voice. Here's an example of Evan telling Charlie what she's doing next rather than asking:

“I’m heading home,” Charlie said. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No.” He grabbed her hand before she walked off his porch. “You’re having a drink with me.”

Her eyes strayed in the direction of her house with a look that was almost longing. “I don’t know…”

“I do. Haven’t had a chance to talk to you all evening, Ace.”

“Evan.”

He took two full steps toward her until he stood so close she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “One drink.”

They had things to talk about. He wasn’t letting her run from him again.

It doesn't mean you should wrote a heroine who is an obliging doormat. As your hero continues encouraging her to prioritize what’s best for her, it will come across that he’s a caring, protective hero and your heroine will soon begin seeing herself through his eyes.

(3) Swap emotion for decisions.

Alphas are confident. So confident that they are positive they’re not wrong. What’s great about writing a hero who is so sure he’s right all the time and knowing that the reader is going to be shaking her head as he fumbles and fumbles again. Let them be wrong, but for sure let them be confident that they’re not!

Here’s a great example of Reese fumbling his way through The Billionaire Bachelor.

“Okay,” Merina interrupted to take his mind off destroying her second favorite room in the hotel. She wrapped her hands around her mug of steaming tea. “What did you need to see me about?”

“A proposal.” His eyes snapped to hers. “I’m willing to let you and your parents keep your jobs and leave the Van Heusen as bohemian as you like.”

It was everything she wanted to hear. Like a miracle had occurred. Had he grown a conscience? Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

He smiled, then said two words that made her go temporarily blind in one eye. “Marry me.”

In all the imaginings she’d ever had about a marriage proposal, absolutely zero of them included billionaires she barely knew. A small, slightly hysterical laugh left her lips.

Reese didn’t flinch.

“Did you just say…” She closed her eyes and pushed the rest from her constricted chest. “Marry you?” Surely not. Surely she’d hallucinated that.

“Yes.”

She clutched her mug. Voice tight, she asked, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“My father is retiring soon. The Crane Holdings board of directors isn’t convinced I’ll make a good replacement due to my dating habits.” He stated it clearly and unapologetically, though really, what did he have to apologize for? He was a grown man who could see whomever he wanted. In her opinion, he saw way too many whomevers. A string of silly women who were likely chasing after his wallet. “The shareholders are displeased with the fact that I have a reputation for being…”

“A playboy?” she finished for him.

He curled his lip and corrected with, “Not monogamous.”

“Are you capable of being monogamous?” It was easier to needle him than address the gauntlet resting between them like a huge pink elephant.

“I don’t prefer it.”

Which was no answer at all.

“So this is a bribe.”

“It’s a proposal.” One eyebrow lifted slightly. “In this case, literally.”

Reese is certain that his plan will work. After all, his strategies have always worked for him in the world of business. How would an arrangement with a future bride be any different? Of course we (the readers and I) know that Reese is being unreasonable and a bit of a butthead. Which is why I wrote Merina tough—she can handle Reese Crane. Oh yes she can.

The next time you’re reading through a scene you’ve written, apply these three “rules” and see how they feel. You might just uncover a more alpha hero than you’d originally written.

~Jessica Lemmon