I’ve moved. The host group is working on catching up with me, but in the mean time, check out the new site HERE.
Lot’s of great news about the new book coming out THURSDAY!
I’ve moved. The host group is working on catching up with me, but in the mean time, check out the new site HERE.
Lot’s of great news about the new book coming out THURSDAY!
As you can tell, I’ve taken some time off from social media to regroup. that time involved working a lot and studying for school a lot.
They say that one of the best parts of traveling is coming home, if that’s true, it’s the step I’m on now. I’m returning to my passion for writing –one that I’d had to squeeze in when given a chance for those months– to one that can sit at the front of mind and become not only an emotional priority, but a time priority again as well.
If you follow me on twitter, you know I have some big news I can’t wait to share. I mean, I can’t wait so much that I just told you about it kind of, right? I should probably delete that… NOPE! I’m too excited!
The next month is ging to be insane. And, if you’re around, maybe I’ll be dropping little hints here and there. In the meantime, I’m having a ball doing that whole ‘creative girl’ thing again and am so glad to be back with my reader and writer friends in the wider-world than my work and library!
kk,
Bria
As you can tell, I’ve taken some time off from social media to regroup. that time involved working a lot and studying for school a lot.
They say that one of the best parts of traveling is coming home, if that’s true, it’s the step I’m on now. I’m returning to my passion for writing –one that I’d had to squeeze in when given a chance for those months– to one that can sit at the front of mind and become not only an emotional priority, but a time priority again as well.
If you follow me on twitter, you know I have some big news I can’t wait to share. I mean, I can’t wait so much that I just told you about it kind of, right? I should probably delete that… NOPE! I’m too excited!
The next month is ging to be insane. And, if you’re around, maybe I’ll be dropping little hints here and there. In the meantime, I’m having a ball doing that whole ‘creative girl’ thing again and am so glad to be back with my reader and writer friends in the wider-world than my work and library!
kk,
Bria
Numbers ONE and FOUR!!!!
Congrats writers – that was super close and drove me nuts during the last thirty minutes of all those ties and unties and ties and unties!
Four great finalists who mad me feel like Team Kissy can’t lose narrowed down to two winners!
~~~*~~~
Finalists, please have your FULL kissing scene based on the rules posted at the beginning emailed to me by Saturday night!
And then there were… Wait, I thought there were supposed to be 3 this week. Well, because of some behind the scenes going-ons were still at 4. This means that only 1/2 the group will be standing at the end of the week when we take on Team Kiss-Off.
So, vote for your fav now!
~~~ONE~~~
Luc pulls back and his mouth grazes my temple, so gently, like a whisper against my skin. My fear thaws and the only thing I’m left with is the deepest ache I’ve ever felt.
He whispers, “I still want to kiss you.”
His lips barely touch mine, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. That’s all it takes. There’s the same feeling as before, like I swallowed a beam of sunlight. Our eyes meet. His are wide and stunned. Then he’s leaning in again, his hand wrapping in my hair and tilting it firmly to the side, his lips suddenly hot and insistent. And in that split second of our first real kiss, something in me gives way—some unseen, never-before-touched part of my heart becomes completely, unequivocally his. I’d be terrified if I could feel anything but bliss. My hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth is soft and sweet with just a slight edge, like burnt sugar melting through me.
Luc pulls me into his lap, one hand around my waist, his fingertips slowly tracing my face, like he wants to memorize the shape of it. And everything in me is burning hotter and brighter than ever before. In this moment, I know I’ve spent my whole life lost. Now, somehow, I’m finding myself in the feel of him, the scent and taste of him. It’s like I needed his breath in my lungs to be able to really breathe.
His mouth slants over mine again and again, until the heat building in me is almost painful. I gasp, “God, Luc…please…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but Luc seems to. His hand sweeps the ground and then we’re tumbling back against the cold earth.
~~~TWO~~~
Seth wets his lips. “I like your eyes. And your smile. I like the way your hair feels between my fingers, the way your hips move when you walk, the way you blush when I compliment you.”
I cover my cheeks with my hands. He smiles. “Yes,” he says, “like that.”
My heart has basically stopped beating. He straightens his arm and lets it rest across the back of the couch.
I turn into him, and his breath catches. I lift my hand and run my fingers across his cheek, tracing his jawline.
When my thumb sweeps across his bottom lip, his hand comes down on my leg, squeezing my thigh.
He’s going to kiss me.
I am going to die if he doesn’t kiss me.
“Harper.”He shakes his head.
I’m so tired of this. “Why?”
He’s breathing hard. The hand on my leg tightens. My fingers drift down his neck.“Harper,” he says again, but it’s softer than before, like he doesn’t really want me to hear.
So I pretend that I don’t.
I close the space between us, so close that I can feel his breath against my lips. His hand moves to my hip. He presses his lips together, and I can almost hear him arguing with himself.
He whispers my name once more, and I lick my lips. He brushes the fingers of his other hand down my cheek, sweeping my hair back from my shoulder.
His mouth is on mine before I have time to notice the way his fingers trail down my neck. The kiss is more delicate than I’d imagined, his lips softer, his touch lighter.
I slide both of my hands around his neck and shift into his lap, unable to get close enough to him.
I feel him smile, and the kiss changes as he relaxes, giving in to me. I pull his bottom lip into my mouth, nibbling, and spread my fingers through his hair.
~~~THREE~~~
One of my eyebrows shot up. “A weird secret passage in the wall?”
She laughed, and my pulse jumped again. “God, I missed you.”She leaned forward, pushing me into the wall. “There are a shitload of these passages in this house. I used to run through them as a kid.”
I glanced around the passage, which was surprisingly clean. There was even a light not far off. “So how many people know about these?”
Ginny leaned in closer, her fingertips playing with the skin in the V of my shirt. “Mom knows, Alix and Hanna. A few of the staff. Me.”
My pulse pounded with every brush of her fingers. I was drowning in the sunshine scent of her that I’d missed all week. “So nobody, really.”
She smiled, and I felt her breath on my lips when she spoke.“Exactly.”
“Good.”
My hands grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against the opposite wall. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and I took full advantage of it. I was tired of the teasing, and I knew exactly what she wanted. Her nails dug into my arms as our lips met, both of us hungry for the other. Her mouth worked against mine, tongue sliding in and out and driving me mad.
And then her hands pushed me away.
I pulled back, heat rising through me. Pushing me off wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.
“Shirt. Now.”
I grinned, kicking myself. I should’ve known. “Yes ma’am.”
I pulled the shirt over my head, not even bothering with the buttons. Ginny grinned, hands already on my bare chest, tracing the lines of my tattoo. I cupped my hands on her jaw and closed the distance between us again, to find her mouth hot, eager, and waiting for me.
~~~FOUR~~~
The absolute dark made me feel both safe and vulnerable. Pandora’s hands slid up my back, tracing my spine, to my shoulder blades and around to my chest. Her face burrowed into my neck and I smiled at her heightened breathing on my skin. I lowered my nose to her hair as my hands moved as slow as hers. I followed the arch of her hip and the dip of her waist to the delicate ridges of her ribs. My hands slid around to her shoulder blades and up her back. Her hands dropped to my waist and traveled around to the front of my stomach.
My heart thundered and my blood roared in my ears.
I traced the slope of her neck with my fingertips. Her pulse jumped as I traveled over it and I leaned over, pressing my lips to that spot.
A faint gasp escaped her, her fingers curling into the waistband of my pants.
I traced her jaw and kissed it. My fingers memorized her cheekbones, followed by my lips. I kissed her eyelids. My thumb followed the outline of her lips, which parted under my touch. Her breathing sped up and I knew mine was doing the same as I leaned to her and brushed my lips so faintly over hers it was if they hadn’t touched.
Her fingers curled into my shirt then slid up my chest as I whispered my lips across hers again. “Pandora…”
“Kiss me, Lucas.”
I let out a strangled exhale and kissed her, parting her lips gently with my own. My world became fire and water and energy and summer. She sighed into my mouth and her hands sunk into my hair.
~~~*~~~
As you know from my tweets, we had ties going on all week with this round. And wow, did it come down to the wire.
Here are the finalist for the last round before #TeamKissy takes on #TeamKissOff:
One
Three
Four
Congrats to those continuing on. And seriously, the spread was like {} everyone should be proud at the votes they’re getting!
Now, just like last week, finalist, please send your entries to my email.
Good Luck!
Bria
You guys know the drill! There are 4 entries now – You’re job, vote for your favorite. On Thursday we’ll have the top 3!
Good luck everyone:
~~~~ONE~~~~
Luc pulls back and his mouth grazes my temple, so gently, like a whisper against my skin. My fear thaws and the only thing I’m left with is the deepest ache I’ve ever felt.
He whispers, “I still want to kiss you.”
His lips barely touch mine, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. That’s all it takes. There’s the same feeling as before, like I swallowed a beam of sunlight. Our eyes meet. His are wide and stunned. Then he’s leaning in again, his hand wrapping in my hair and tilting it firmly to the side, his lips suddenly hot and insistent. And in that split second of our first real kiss, something in me gives way—some unseen, never-before-touched part of my heart becomes completely, unequivocally his. I’d be terrified if I could feel anything but bliss. My hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth is soft and sweet with just a slight edge, like burnt sugar melting through me.
Luc pulls me into his lap, one hand around my waist, his fingertips slowly tracing my face, like he wants to memorize the shape of it. And everything in me is burning hotter and brighter than ever before. In this moment, I know I’ve spent my whole life lost. Now, somehow, I’m finding myself in the feel of him, the scent and taste of him. It’s like I needed his breath in my lungs to be able to really breathe.
His mouth slants over mine again and again, until the heat building in me is almost painful. I gasp, “God, Luc…please…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but Luc seems to.
~~~~TWO~~~~
Seth wets his lips. “I like your eyes. And your smile. I like the way your hair feels between my fingers, the way your hips move when you walk, the way you blush when I compliment you.”
I cover my cheeks with my hands. He smiles. “Yes,” he says, “like that.”
My heart has basically stopped beating. He straightens his arm and lets it rest across the back of the couch.
I turn into him, and his breath catches. I lift my hand and run my fingers across his cheek, tracing his jawline.
When my thumb sweeps across his bottom lip, his hand comes down on my leg, squeezing my thigh.
He’s going to kiss me.
I am going to die if he doesn’t kiss me.
“Harper.” He shakes his head.
I’m so tired of this. “Why?”
He’s breathing hard. The hand on my leg tightens. My fingers drift down his neck. “Harper,” he says again, but it’s softer than before, like he doesn’t really want me to hear.
So I pretend that I don’t.
I close the space between us, so close that I can feel his breath against my lips. His hand moves to my hip. He presses his lips together, and I can almost hear him arguing with himself.
He whispers my name once more, and I lick my lips. He brushes the fingers of his other hand down my cheek, sweeping my hair back from my shoulder.
His mouth is on mine before I have time to notice the way his fingers trail down my neck. The kiss is more delicate than I’d imagined, his lips softer, his touch lighter.
I slide both of my hands around his neck and shift into his lap, unable to get close enough to him.
I feel him smile, and the kiss changes as he relaxes, giving in to me.
~~~~THREE~~~~
The absolute dark made me feel both safe and vulnerable. Pandora’s hands slid up my back, tracing my spine, to my shoulder blades and around to my chest. Her face burrowed into my neck and I smiled at her heightened breathing on my skin. I lowered my nose to her hair as my hands moved as slow as hers. I followed the arch of her hip and the dip of her waist to the delicate ridges of her ribs. My hands slid around to her shoulder blades and up her back. Her hands dropped to my waist and traveled around to the front of my stomach.
My heart thundered and my blood roared in my ears.
I traced the slope of her neck with my fingertips. Her pulse jumped as I traveled over it and I leaned over, pressing my lips to that spot.
A faint gasp escaped her, her fingers curling into the waistband of my pants.
I traced her jaw and kissed it. My fingers memorized her cheekbones, followed by my lips. I kissed her eyelids. My thumb followed the outline of her lips, which parted under my touch. Her breathing sped up and I knew mine was doing the same as I leaned to her and brushed my lips so faintly over hers it was if they hadn’t touched.
Her fingers curled into my shirt then slid up my chest as I whispered my lips across hers again. “Pandora…”
“Kiss me, Lucas.”
I let out a strangled exhale and kissed her, parting her lips gently with my own. My world became fire and water and energy and summer.
~~~~FOUR~~~~
One of my eyebrows shot up. “A weird secret passage in the wall?”
She laughed, and my pulse jumped again. “God, I missed you.” She leaned forward, pushing me into the wall. “There are a shitload of these passages in this house. I used to run through them as a kid.”
I glanced around the passage, which was surprisingly clean. There was even a light not far off. “So how many people know about these?”
Ginny leaned in closer, her fingertips playing with the skin in the V of my shirt. “Mom knows, Alix and Hanna. A few of the staff. Me.”
My pulse pounded with every brush of her fingers. I was drowning in the sunshine scent of her that I’d missed all week. “So nobody, really.”
She smiled, and I felt her breath on my lips when she spoke. “Exactly.”
“Good.”
My hands grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against the opposite wall. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and I took full advantage of it. I was tired of the teasing, and I knew exactly what she wanted. Her nails dug into my arms as our lips met, both of us hungry for the other. Her mouth worked against mine, tongue sliding in and out and driving me mad.
And then her hands pushed me away.
I pulled back, heat rising through me. Pushing me off wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.
“Shirt. Now.”
I grinned, kicking myself. I should’ve known. “Yes ma’am.”
I pulled the shirt over my head, not even bothering with the buttons. Ginny grinned, hands already on my bare chest, tracing the lines of my tattoo.
I’ve had a whole bunch of stuff change in the last few months. Without getting into too much: I’ve had to go back to school (no choice, the gov moved our cert dates back 11 months), start physical therapy, taking a woozy pill that knocks me about by 10:30, get a second job, and had personal & family financial emergencies happen. Because of all that, I’m at a loss for time. My writing has been all but pushed aside as I’ll have to try wade through all of this for six months so things can be cleaned up. Unfortunately, the financial things are not little.
On top of all this, I’ve had a run of… how to put this… emotional kicks.
I’ve always been one to say yes, to give people as much time as I can, to not think “oh if I do this, then that person owes me a favor.” But, over the last year I’ve been seeing a pattern. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so willing to do things for people — often for free where I’d typically charge. Or maybe it’s just the way of the world now.
Here’s what I’ve been seeing: People ask for my help or opinion. I give it. It’s completely disregarded until someone more famous, more successful, better liked, with a bigger following, with more experience …whatever More they are… says the exact same thing. And then the person sings the praises of that More Person. This has happened in writing and in HR stuff. I’m exhausted from looking at resumes for people, never getting ASKED just “here’s my resume. What do you think?” - just handed resumes -and then getting a note back about why I’m wrong and what they’re going to do instead.
Darlin’ when it comes to resumes….I’m seldom wrong.
When it comes to writing… Ok, yes. I can be wrong. But, here’s the thing – I feel like I’m getting asked for help/advice when the person KNOWS they’re going to ask someone who they respect more after me.
This is not only hurtful, but it’s a huge, Huge, HUGE freaking waste of my time.
So, for the next 30 days (after a phone call tomorrow and a crit due this weekend) – I’m say ‘no’ to everything from everyone. Period.
With my 20 mins 3 days a week (if I’m lucky) to write, I’m not giving it away. I’m guarding my feelings and my time. I have to get my own stuff done and the next 6 months will let me know exactly where my life is going to be landing for quite a while.
And so, if you’re a close friend, a friend, an acquaintance or a follower — please realize that whatever you send my way for the next 30 days is going to get a very polite, “I’m sorry, but no. I can’t” response because sometimes you have to draw a line in the sand. Sometimes, you have to do what’s best for you even if others don’t understand.
Here we go. Where there were 5, now there are 4.
In numerical order:
One
Three
Four
Five
Congrats to those who are moving forward to the next round!!!
To make this simple this time, finalist — EMAIL your entry with the new line for Round 2 added at the end to me at briaquinlan at aol with that whole .com thing at the end.
CONGRATS AGAIN EVERYONE WHO FINALED!
Welcome to the first of the Finalists Rounds!
First off, thanks to everyone who played along. I hope you all continue to vote and push the entry you think is best to the rounds where we take on the Kiss-Off team! They’ve got some great lines over there so I’m sure it’s going to be a nail-biter!
Now, before we get to the Top 5, some reminders:
Finalists, you can pimp the contest, but not your line. Any suspicious behavior will be investigated. If anyone is DQd, I’ll have the Super Secret Tie-Breaking Judge choose between the lowest scoring entry and the alternative (which only I can see at the moment.) UNLESS the lowest scoring entry is the DQd person — then that will be the dropped entry.
So, here they are. Read them all and vote for ONE of the following entries.
GOOD LUCK EVERYONE!
~~~ONE~~~
One of my eyebrows shot up. “A weird secret passage in the wall?”
She laughed, and my pulse jumped again. “God, I missed you.” She leaned forward, pushing me into the wall. “There are a shitload of these passages in this house. I used to run through them as a kid.”
I glanced around the passage, which was surprisingly clean. There was even a light not far off. “So how many people know about these?”
Ginny leaned in closer, her fingertips playing with the skin in the V of my shirt. “Mom knows, Alix and Hanna. A few of the staff. Me.”
My pulse pounded with every brush of her fingers. I was drowning in the sunshine scent of her that I’d missed all week. “So nobody, really.”
She smiled, and I felt her breath on my lips when she spoke. “Exactly.”
“Good.”
My hands grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against the opposite wall. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and I took full advantage of it. I was tired of the teasing, and I knew exactly what she wanted. Her nails dug into my arms as our lips met, both of us hungry for the other. Her mouth worked against mine, tongue sliding in and out and driving me mad.
And then her hands pushed me away.
I pulled back, heat rising through me. Pushing me off wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.
“Shirt. Now.”
I grinned, kicking myself. I should’ve known. “Yes ma’am.”
I pulled the shirt over my head, not even bothering with the buttons.
~~~TWO~~~
“I shouldn’t have pushed you into going with him that night. It was a big mistake.”
“You just now figured this out?”
“I wanted to turn around and drive back so I could tell you, but I passed him on the highway and knew I missed my chance. Dave came home that night talking about how Kurt said you two had such a great time.”
I winced.
“I couldn’t stand it but it was my own fault for letting you go. And if you wanted him instead of me… I wasn’t going to mess things up for you.”
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or if I wanted to cry. Maybe both.
“You just backed off and let me go. I thought you didn’t want me,” I said.
In one swift movement, he had my face in his hands and his lips hard on mine.
One of his hands ran around the back of my neck, twisting into my hair and pulling me even closer. It was desperate and crushing but I wanted everything he could give. I pushed into him until it hurt.
His mouth pulled away and he rested his forehead and nose against mine, and I gasped for air. I could feel the flush in my face, the electricity in his touch, and the wild butterflies inside. I tilted up my chin and kissed him again.
Where Kurt’s touch burned right through me, Will’s was deep and consuming. I wanted to slip under and stay forever.
“This is gonna cause problems, you know,” he said, still breathing heavy.
~~~THREE~~~
Luc pulls back and his mouth grazes my temple, so gently, like a whisper against my skin. My fear thaws and the only thing I’m left with is the deepest ache I’ve ever felt.
He whispers, “I still want to kiss you.”
His lips barely touch mine, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. That’s all it takes. There’s the same feeling as before, like I swallowed a beam of sunlight. Our eyes meet. His are wide and stunned. Then he’s leaning in again, his hand wrapping in my hair and tilting it firmly to the side, his lips suddenly hot and insistent. And in that split second of our first real kiss, something in me gives way—some unseen, never-before-touched part of my heart becomes completely, unequivocally his. I’d be terrified if I could feel anything but bliss. My hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth is soft and sweet with just a slight edge, like burnt sugar melting through me.
Luc pulls me into his lap, one hand around my waist, his fingertips slowly tracing my face, like he wants to memorize the shape of it. And everything in me is burning hotter and brighter than ever before. In this moment, I know I’ve spent my whole life lost. Now, somehow, I’m finding myself in the feel of him, the scent and taste of him. It’s like I needed his breath in my lungs to be able to really breathe.
His mouth slants over mine again and again, until the heat building in me is almost painful.
~~~FOUR~~~
Seth wets his lips. “I like your eyes. And your smile. I like the way your hair feels between my fingers, the way your hips move when you walk, the way you blush when I compliment you.”
I cover my cheeks with my hands. He smiles. “Yes,” he says, “like that.”
My heart has basically stopped beating. He straightens his arm and lets it rest across the back of the couch.
I turn into him, and his breath catches. I lift my hand and run my fingers across his cheek, tracing his jawline.
When my thumb sweeps across his bottom lip, his hand comes down on my leg, squeezing my thigh.
He’s going to kiss me.
I am going to die if he doesn’t kiss me.
“Harper.” He shakes his head.
I’m so tired of this. “Why?”
He’s breathing hard. The hand on my leg tightens. My fingers drift down his neck. “Harper,” he says again, but it’s softer than before, like he doesn’t really want me to hear.
So I pretend that I don’t.
I close the space between us, so close that I can feel his breath against my lips. His hand moves to my hip. He presses his lips together, and I can almost hear him arguing with himself.
He whispers my name once more, and I lick my lips. He brushes the fingers of his other hand down my cheek, sweeping my hair back from my shoulder.
His mouth is on mine before I have time to notice the way his fingers trail down my neck. The kiss is more delicate than I’d imagined, his lips softer, his touch lighter.
I slide both of my hands around his neck and shift into his lap, unable to get close enough to him.
~~~FIVE~~~
The absolute dark made me feel both safe and vulnerable. Pandora’s hands slid up my back, tracing my spine, to my shoulder blades and around to my chest. Her face burrowed into my neck and I smiled at her heightened breathing on my skin. I lowered my nose to her hair as my hands moved as slow as hers. I followed the arch of her hip and the dip of her waist to the delicate ridges of her ribs. My hands slid around to her shoulder blades and up her back. Her hands dropped to my waist and traveled around to the front of my stomach.
My heart thundered and my blood roared in my ears.
I traced the slope of her neck with my fingertips. Her pulse jumped as I traveled over it and I leaned over, pressing my lips to that spot.
A faint gasp escaped her, her fingers curling into the waistband of my pants.
I traced her jaw and kissed it. My fingers memorized her cheekbones, followed by my lips. I kissed her eyelids. My thumb followed the outline of her lips, which parted under my touch. Her breathing sped up and I knew mine was doing the same as I leaned to her and brushed my lips so faintly over hers it was if they hadn’t touched.
Her fingers curled into my shirt then slid up my chest as I whispered my lips across hers again. “Pandora…”
“Kiss me, Lucas.”
I let out a strangled exhale and kissed her, parting her lips gently with my own.
~~~~~~~
Take Our Poll
What I’m about to do is completely unlike me, but I’ve reached a point of being so ticked off that, I just don’t care: I’m going to call out LOCAL bookstore by name.
Annie’s Used Bookstore on River St in Waltham, MA. is a used bookstore and paperback swap location. You bring your books in (probably about 80% romance) and get credit for them to use toward your purchases.
This Bookstore used to be great. They were kind, courteous, fair. They had great customer service. There was one woman who was always rude, but I just never went in on her days and everything was good in the world.
Then the rude person bought the store. It’s been a slow decent into bookstore hell.
Issue one: I went in, found 7 books to buy and remembered I had a $4 credit in the car which would cover about 1 of the 7 books. I put my books on the counter (no one else was in the store, so I wasn’t holding anyone up) and said, I just need to run out to my car and grab my credit. The woman told me there would be a $1.50 (I believe that was the amount) book-hold fee.
I was sure I had to have misunderstood her. I pointed at my car that was literally in the first spot from her door and said, No. I’m not leaving. I’m just grabbing my credit from the car.
Her response: Yes. You’re leaving the store.
And I did leave the store…and didn’t go back in. There was no way I was losing more than 25% of my credit just to use my credit.
It took me months to walk into her store again.And when I finally did, I’d wished I hadn’t.
Issue Two: When I went back, I brought a big bag of books to exchange. I was going on vacation and was planning to blow through my $4 credit (which I wisely did not leave in the car this time) and all the credit I got from the books I’d brought in, and probably another $20 worth of books in cash. I figured that would get me enough reading material for the trip. I love buying used for trips because it gives me the chance to leave some of my favorite authors in hotels and coffee shops for other people to use instead of packing the books home.
So, I give Rude Owner the bag of books and wander around the store picking out about 14 books for my trip (don’t judge…oh, wait. You’re readers, you won’t.) I get back with this huge stack and the woman shows me 6 books I’d brought in and tells me those are the only books she was able to credit me for. (Now, remember. This is the owner. The only person who makes calls on what she can and can’t take is her.)
I’m disappointed that she didn’t take some awesome books (For example: Kristan Higgins brand new release in perfect condition. I’d noticed that she didn’t have one on the shelf yet and figured that was a home run, right?), but I’d take what I could get and write off the rest as the cost of vacation.
She rings me up. I pay. She hands me my books and I’m a bit confused. Where are the rest of my books? Where are the books she was unable to buy from me? So I ask.
Her response: OH, you don’t want to donate those to the store?
WHAT? No. Why would I want to donate those to the store? You’re either buying my books or you’re not. This is a business transaction. And, if you wanted a donation, you should have asked. But, suddenly, it made sense that books I was shocked she hadn’t accepted (the new ones with the highest price and therefore the highest credits when I looked) weren’t accepted.
I demanded my books and drove to Belmont where there was a lovely woman running another Annies.
I continued dealing with the Belmont Annies only until family issues forced her to close it.
Issue Three: This past year, I finally started going back to the Rude Owner’s Annies because the next closest Annies (although there are other great stores around) is in Sharon (about 45 minutes away, more on this location in a bit) – My first time back was this past February where I was given a credit of $8.60.
Every time I go in now, I’m not allowed to use that credit because I have newer credits. But, if you don’t use it in a year, she rips it up. A friend of mine had this happen. Her credit was less than a week past due and she took it away and ripped it up.
So, here I am with this credit that I can never use because I’m constantly bringing in other books and buying new ones.
TRANSLATION: I’m being punished for being a good customer.
I finally left, went across the street, bought toothpaste, came back and used my old credit instead of the one she’d just given me.
I honestly doubt the legality of not allowing someone to choose which credit they would like to use. By pushing out my oldest credit every time I came in, she would have eventually just ripped it up when it expired if I hadn’t gamed the system.
Now, we’ve hit the three-strikes your out.
You’d think (from my example of how many books and how much money I drop there) she’d realize you don’t want to lose customers by not allowing them to use certain credits, charging them fees to walk to their car, and/or attempting to steal their books — Apparently, you would be wrong.
From now own, I’ll just keep a box ready for when I want to make that drive down to Sharon where the owners are knowledgable, kind, friendly, helpful, pleasant, know a ton about romance and also do a lot to give back not only to their local reading community but to writers as well!
Mass readers: GO TO SHARON.
I will also now donate my books to the Waltham, Newton & Watertown libraries. They give me far more reading pleasure and customer service. I’d rather get no credit and have my books do some good at these lovely locations.
I will also drop books off at the Book Warehouse in Woburn where money goes to charity.
I will not be going back to that bookstore. Ever.
In a world where bookstores are struggling to stay alive, I can not fathom treating your customers like this.
It’s a shame, A SHAME, that readers, those who keep us all in business and are the inspiration for writers in the first place, should be treated so shabbily.
So there it is, the death of a bookstore in my heart. I’m lucky I live somewhere where I have 9 libraries within 15 mins of my house, 3 used bookstores within 20 mins & 3 BNs within 25 as well as 5 indie bookstores within 30 mins…. But, if she keeps treating her customers that way, she isn’t at all lucky they’re there. She’ll be the opposite of lucky.
And the Top 5 in numerical order are:
Two
Four
Eight
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Five
ALTERNATE: Seven
Honorable Mentions go to those rounding out the Top 10:
Three
Five
Fifteen
Twenty-Two
CONGRATS!
For the Top 5 + Alt, you need to add ONE LINE to your entry and post it by SUNDAY, 9/9 7pm BST.
If someone in the Top 5 misses the deadline, breaks one of the rules or is caught out cheating, the Alternate will be slotted into his or her spot.
Please use your number as your name. So, the person who had entry Twenty-Five will type “Twenty-Five” has their name.
Any questions, feel free to ask away in this post.
I’m really excited to see where this goes. There were TONS of great entries and lots of votes and close calls. Cheers to everyone who participated! I HIGHLY recommend everyone posting their full scene on their blogs so people who didn’t make the top 5 but had a following have a place to share — tweet it under #TeamKissy and let me know!
kk,
Bria
While I was online for a few minutes I spotted some suspicious voting patterns (not the votes themselves, but a certain pattern). Not being stupid, I figured out that a certain writer was going against the “No Pimping Your Own Entry” rule and discussed it with that person off-line.
It’s been decided that between us that the person will quietly step down from the contest.
Sadly, this was not the only entry that had suspicious voting patterns, but the only one that I was online long enough to be 99% sure about.
I’ll admit, I’m VERY upset that people are choosing not to play by the rules. This is NOT a popularity/marketing/begging contest. This is a writing contest. Like any other thing in the writing world, it should weigh strictly on the strength of your writing — ESPECIALLY with such an awesome prize.
Valerie and I are out on a limb here. If somehow someone cheats their way to the top, how do we hand The Laird an entry we can’t honestly say, “People think this was the best entry.”
That said, if it comes to light that another person is working around this rule and I hit the 99% sure mark again, they will also be getting a DQ email from me.
I hope that we can move one with some AWESOME entries. I’ve been totally floored by the number of participants and the level of writing I’m getting to see. KEEP IT UP!
kk,
WELCOME to the first round of #KKOContest’s kissing ½! Below you’ll read a lot of great kissing scene intros, but after the polls close on Wednesday, there will be only five finalists.
VOTING OPENS AT 10 AM **MONDAY**
Writers, please remember: You can pimp the contest (actually, we NEED you to pimp the contest) but you can’t pimp your own entry. This is a BEST ENTRY not BEST MARKETING contest 
Please read all the posts before voting at the poll at the bottom!
Don’t forget to check out the KISS-OFF Sister Contest on Valerie Cole’s
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ONE
At last she stopped, gasping for breath in a rain-washed alley lit only by a half-open window four stories up from the street. Avar had not yet appeared. He had to have escaped. They had all seemed too afraid of him to come near him, after all – he would have gotten away, no doubt he was following her now.
She turned, a smile ready on her face, but she did not see him. Had she turned too many corners for him to follow? Had she run so far that she had lost him once more, just when she had the impossible hope she would see him again?
“Avar?” she whispered.
He had to be nearby, somewhere. He had found her once, he could find her again.
“Avar?”
“I’m here, Rose.”
Rose turned again, and there he was, straightening his shirt as he stood at the corner of the alley. An incredulous smile lit up her face.
“Hello,” he said, his voice soft.
Rose said nothing at first – all she could do was gape at him, unsure if she had fallen back into one of her nightmares.
His face had woven itself through her dreams of her family, a whisper of what had once been, what she had lost and could not bear to think about.
“You saved my life,” she breathed. He grinned at her.
“You seem so surprised.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWO
One of my eyebrows shot up. “A weird secret passage in the wall?”
She laughed, and my pulse jumped again. “God, I missed you.” She leaned forward, pushing me into the wall. “There are a shitload of these passages in this house. I used to run through them as a kid.”
I glanced around the passage, which was surprisingly clean. There was even a light not far off. “So how many people know about these?”
Ginny leaned in closer, her fingertips playing with the skin in the V of my shirt. “Mom knows, Alix and Hanna. A few of the staff. Me.”
My pulse pounded with every brush of her fingers. I was drowning in the sunshine scent of her that I’d missed all week. “So nobody, really.”
She smiled, and I felt her breath on my lips when she spoke. “Exactly.”
“Good.”
My hands grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against the opposite wall. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and I took full advantage of it. I was tired of the teasing, and I knew exactly what she wanted. Her nails dug into my arms as our lips met, both of us hungry for the other. Her mouth worked against mine, tongue sliding in and out and driving me mad.
And then her hands pushed me away.
I pulled back, heat rising through me. Pushing me off wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.
“Shirt. Now.”
I grinned, kicking myself. I should’ve known. “Yes ma’am.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THREE
Running through the grass with Marcus felt so familiar. We were even sweatier by the time we got to the creek, but I knew what was coming. I pulled off my tee-shirt and jumped into the creek, the shock of cold water instant relief from the miserable heat.
Marcus dove in beside me and came up grinning. “A bikini? Aw, man…”
“Take what you can get.” I splashed him, coming close enough he could almost touch me. He lunged and grabbed my legs, pulling me under. I came up gasping. He pushed me up against the bank, muddy and root-covered as it was, and kissed me. I could hardly see through the water streaming from my hair but I kissed him back, curling my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His skin was warm against mine in the dark water.
His mouth was tight and demanding, and I knew something wasn’t right. Every muscle in his body was tight and his hands were trembling. I hadn’t told him this would be the last time, but he knew it. We weren’t fifteen anymore. I pushed toward him, kissing him slowly, taking what he offered.
He wrapped his arms around me and in all the heat and cold water I barely noticed the tears falling down my own face.
He pulled away to look at me, but I shook my head and his body came back to me, his lips back to mine. I just wanted him to stay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FOUR
Luc pulls back and his mouth grazes my temple, so gently, like a whisper against my skin. My fear thaws and the only thing I’m left with is the deepest ache I’ve ever felt.
He whispers, “I still want to kiss you.”
His lips barely touch mine, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. That’s all it takes. There’s the same feeling as before, like I swallowed a beam of sunlight. Our eyes meet. His are wide and stunned. Then he’s leaning in again, his hand wrapping in my hair and tilting it firmly to the side, his lips suddenly hot and insistent. And in that split second of our first real kiss, something in me gives way—some unseen, never-before-touched part of my heart becomes completely, unequivocally his. I’d be terrified if I could feel anything but bliss. My hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer.
His mouth is soft and sweet with just a slight edge, like burnt sugar melting through me.
Luc pulls me into his lap, one hand around my waist, his fingertips slowly tracing my face, like he wants to memorize the shape of it. And everything in me is burning hotter and brighter than ever before. In this moment, I know I’ve spent my whole life lost. Now, somehow, I’m finding myself in the feel of him, the scent and taste of him. It’s like I needed his breath in my lungs to really be able to breathe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FIVE
Jule sat at a table on the patio south of the cafeteria, a myriad of things rushing through her mind. Her five-word proclamation kept coming to the forefront: “I love you too, Vincent.” Part of her wondered how she could say the words, and another part demanded they were true. Why should this be different from other decisions she’d made? She took a paper and pen from her purse and drew a line down the middle.
Cons:
There’s two of him.
“Or is that a pro?”
He might die.
Will he be sane afterward?
A junior, with no major.
Very sensitive.
Hasn’t made a serious move.
“Hey, a girl has needs.”
No direction in life.
His family?
Pros:
There’s two of him.
“Fair’s fair, after all.” She grinned.
Handsome and well built.
Sexy and doesn’t know it.
“Which is even sexier.”
Intelligent.
Very sensitive.
“Definitely belongs here.”
A gentleman.
“Sometimes too much of one.” She grinned again. “Okay, Jule, settle down.”
Protective
Caring
Funny
He loves me.
She stared at the last line. “At a life and death moment like that, he took the time to tell me.” Would he still feel the same if he knew her past? Jule was comfortable with how she lived her life and the choices she made, but she’d learned that male egos are fragile. Even guys who claimed to be “cool with whatever” soon left after discussing past relationships.
“Their loss.” She shook her head.
Vincent was special, obviously made of strong stuff.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SIX
We both knew I hadn’t so much as made one friend in Eckhart. If Ben wanted to fully humiliate me I might as well beat him to the chase. “So I came here… for sanctuary.”
“Did you go down the hall or touch anything in the other rooms?”
“Of course not! I’m no thief if that’s what you’re worried about and don’t flatter yourself into thinking you have something worth stealing.”
The tension in his shoulders subsided. Surprisingly my answer relieved Ben.
“Do you want me to go?” I asked softly.
Ben turned to the window. Wind lashed against the cypresses. Great forks of lightning streaked the sky. His mother’s singing ceased, replaced by the power generator’s whir and hum.
“You could’ve broken your neck.” His words, meant to scold, lost steam and fell flat.
In response, I took his hand. He resisted at first, suspicious of my intent, but then his barriers crumbled and he stepped toward me.
I positioned his thumb over my jugular. “See?” I whispered, holding his gaze. “Still in one piece.”
“Ava…” Ben flushed. “What are you doing?”
I drew my arms around him, nuzzling my face against his chest until I could hear the erratic thumping of his heart intermingled with my own. His body stiffened in surprise.
“You need a cold shower,” Ben whispered in my ear.
Tilting my chin up, I pressed my lips lightly against his. “Only if you join me.” I bit his lower lip. “Your move, Wolcott.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SEVEN
Kacey glared at him and spat, “Oh. I guess you don’t have any smart comeback when you’re confronted with the truth.”
She turned, began stomping away and something in Jess snapped. He couldn’t stand her thinking it had all been a lie.
He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, “That’s not the truth. This is—” He yanked her closer, his mouth coming down hard on hers.
The heat whenever they touched seemed like ice compared to the jolt that electrocuted him when their lips met. Kacey went rigid and gasped, but the shock must have short-circuited his brain, because he didn’t pull back. Instead, he kissed her again, softly this time. His mouth moved over hers, desperately memorizing the way she felt and smelled and tasted. Kacey wasn’t kissing him back, but she wasn’t pushing him away. He could feel her trembling and, somehow, knew it was taking every ounce of her willpower not to give in. He slid his hand up her shoulder and around her neck, angling her head back and leaning in, running his tongue lightly along her bottom lip.
She let out a low sound as her body went soft. She’d barely started to lean in when she went rigid and put her hands against his chest, as if to shove him away. Part of Jess was humiliated by the hot tears that spilled from his eyes. Part of him didn’t care. He whispered against her mouth, “Please, Kace. Please. Please. Please.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EIGHT
Seth wets his lips. “I like your eyes. And your smile. I like the way your hair feels between my fingers, the way your hips move when you walk, the way you blush when I compliment you.” He pauses, smiles. “Yes, like that.”
My heart has basically stopped beating. His arm straightens and falls across the back of the couch. I turn into him, and his breath catches. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers across his cheek, tracing his jawline. When my thumb sweeps across his bottom lip, he inhales sharply and his hand comes down on my leg, squeezing my thigh.
He’s going to kiss me.
I am going to die if he doesn’t kiss me.
“Harper.” He shakes his head.
I’m so tired of this. “Why?”
His breaths are heavy. The hand on my leg tightens. “Harper,” he says again, but it’s softer than before, like he doesn’t really want me to hear.
So I pretend I don’t.
I close the space between us, so close I can feel his breath against my lips. His hand slides to my hip, squeezing. He presses his lips together, and I can almost hear him arguing with himself. Sweet Seth, so controlled.
He whispers my name once more, then brushes my hair back from my shoulder.
His mouth is on mine before I have much time to notice the way his fingers trail down my neck. The kiss is more delicate than I’d imagined, his lips softer, his touch lighter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NINE
“… Besides, I still owe you for saving my life a couple of times.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he whispered in my ear. He couldn’t have seen me blush, it was too dark, but maybe he felt the heat rushing up my neck because he chuckled softly. “Come on, I can hear the crowd on the move.”
We had reached the open field. A massive heap of wood and brush was piled in the center, and bright flickers crackled up through it. Sam pulled me to the edge of the surrounding woods and then behind the first big tree. The fire’s dull orangey glow lit the planes of his face and accentuated the shadows. His wild, fierce beauty awed me. Whatever had happened before and whatever might happen after were worth these moments together.
As he caressed the side of my face, I turned to kiss the base of his thumb, his fingertips. His other hand found bare skin under my shirt, at the small of my back, setting off tremors that made my knees wobbly. His lips explored my neck. I didn’t know how much more I could stand without screaming, or spontaneously combusting, or passing out, or something.
“Your friends are probably here by now,” he murmured against my throat.
“Ah huh.”
“We should stop soon,” he said gently.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled. As the flames leapt higher, his lips met mine, their creases and ridges fitting themselves against my own like the pieces of a puzzle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TEN
When Berek turned around, his eyes were sparking.
“I don’t want any of it, Misty. I don’t want the big house or the gated community. I don’t care if I ever own a car. And I want to get old. I want to have grey hair and wrinkles. And grandchildren. I want to be able to choose who I am Joined with, regardless of the profession they are assigned. Hell, I want to choose my own career. I want to play sports and take boring Writing classes. But they have taken all of those choices away from me.”
His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing hard and fast. Misty watched in amazement. She’d known Berek to be passionate about things before, but she’d never seem him like this.
“I didn’t…” she started, but he cut her off.
“I’m tired of being afraid, but that isn’t going to change soon. They can hurt you – or my family. Or you could disappear like your mom or Ms. Crane.” His voice had gone from a shout to a whisper.
Berek was standing in front of her, his rant over.
“Do you know what I really want, Misty?”
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his.
“I want to be able to hold your hand at school. I want to dance with you, just because. I want to make you feel safe and see you smile every day.” He hesitated before moving closer. “I want to kiss you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ELEVEN
Instead of unlocking the passenger door, he walked into me, backing me against the door. Trapped within the cage of his arms, my breath caught in my chest, heart hammering away on my ribcage. His muscular legs rubbed against mine. The woodsy scent that was him filled my mind, scattering my thoughts. He grinned, it wasn’t that sweet little boy grin, it was devilish, smoldering. He leaned in, his mouth inching closer to mine, hovering. Time stopped. Anticipation thrummed through me, leaving me trembling with no control.
He finally closed the last inch and dropped a tender kiss at the corner of my mouth, enthralling me with expectation of more. Another tiny peck deposited on the other side. My hands splayed over his chest, feeling strength in its contours. His sigh warmed me, as he nipped my bottom lip gently between his teeth. A small gasp escaped me. Sprinkling a series of little kisses across my mouth, I could feel his smile. Then his tongue slipped past my lips. Pressing me into the truck, his length molded to mine. Warmth melted through the pit of my stomach, like warm caramel, when he took full possession of my mouth. The languid heat seeped into my bones, relaxing and exciting at the same time. Our tongues danced, soft and smooth, like silk and chocolate.
When he pulled back, I gazed into his arctic blues into his soul. I saw desire, love. I wondered what he saw in my eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWELVE
It was as if with each step the beat of my heart was slowing, a little slower, a little more delayed, but growing louder and louder in my ears. This was a mistake. But the rhythm rung out by his steps towards me were as alluring as the old man’s heartbeat under the floorboards. I knew I wouldn’t have peace until I ripped them all up, my dark feelings for him revealed.
Ian stepped up the table where I hunched over a book. Without any warning, he gently tugged my arm so I stood and kissed me. Those eyes of green emeralds burned at me. He smirked in that sexy way that only over confident boys can. He pushed through the compulsion. “I know it’s on your mind, same as mine.”
“That does not matter.” He stepped forward and I stepped back away. He took another step and before I could move he placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed the hollow of my throat and up my jawline to my earlobe.
“Ian, stop. Please.”
“Why?”
I could think of no good reason. He kissed my neck and across my collarbones. Sweet delicate, baby kisses as his lips brushed my skin. My skin was on fire at his touch. His deft hands pushed the shoulder of my shirt out of the way so he could kiss my shoulder.
We stumbled, arms tangled around each other, as we crashed into the stacks. Books clattered out the other side.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTEEN
Noticing how tense I’ve become, he turns and grabs my hand. Not so much to my surprise as to my amazement, they’re frigid. Goosebumps shoot up my arms, and I shiver at his touch.
“Hold still,” he says.
A shock jolts through my hands and right to my head, like an electric current travelling in my veins. I gasp and reflexively jump back, but he squeezes my hands tighter. Another wave of the electricity sizzles at my fingers. My mind clears, as if the energy zapped away all my thoughts, if only for a moment.
It feels good. A startling wincing gasping kind of good.
He leans forward. I’m in such a clear haze I barely notice. But a small part of me, the thoughts that return between each spark, does notice. He’s standing closer too close not close enough.
My lips, seconds ago cold from the wind, course with static as his meet them. The first thing I notice isn’t how he tastes or the iciness of his breath, but that he lets go of my hands. The electricity sizzles out. Thoughts swarm into my mind. Panic and chills and excitement, and there’s so many at once I can’t make sense of them all.
His hands slide around my back, and I let him pull me close. Maybe I should tell him to stop, tell him that I’m too worried about other things, that half of me trusts him and half is terrified, that I don’t know how to
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FOURTEEN
He saw the reflection before he saw her. He held his breath. It was Sky. She turned and smiled as if she was expecting him. Was this for real? Tomas went to meet her, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Just yards apart, they both stopped, as if unable to accept they’d finally met. Bathed in the light reflecting off the water, she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. His dreams hadn’t lied; they just couldn’t portray her true likeness.
Tomas managed just one word. “Sky.”
He tried to say more, but she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in the nape of his neck and he gladly returned her embrace, gently cradling her warm body close to his. Beneath his hands, he could feel her smooth skin through the thin cotton. On the shore of an underground lake, on the other side of the world, he held his love.
Everything could end now, he was happy, fulfilled. Her hair moved across his neck; he looked down upon her face so deliciously close. Then, in exquisite slow motion, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. No, the world couldn’t end yet. He accepted her invitation and their lips met. All his life had been for this moment. Sensations he didn’t have words for, flooded through every fibre. Nothing else mattered. They were together, and he would never let anyone part them again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FIFTEEN
I watched her for a moment, just enough time for her skin to flush. Surprising how easy it was to get that color to spread across her cheeks and neck.
I sighed and pushed myself off. I offered her a hand and pulled her up. She stumbled into me but I held her before she fell. Her perfume wafted over me, still exotic, still tantalizing. Did she taste as good?
She blushed again and dropped her gaze. “We should find Dayre…”
No. Ream Dayre. The heat off her body rivaled the warmth of the jungle. I wanted to pull her closer, feel that heat pressed against my skin. I inhaled, trying to imprint this moment on my memory. Then I breathed out. “Yeah. I guess so.”
She stepped away from me, her fingers still gripped in mine.
Aw, ream it.
I pulled her back, her body crushed against mine and kissed her. She didn’t taste like her perfume, but she did taste good. Fall apples.
She returned the kiss, her hand sliding up my neck and into my hair. She pulled me closer, her mouth hungry for me, her lips soft. Through the collar I could feel her desire. It caused my own to flare into a burning need. I ran my hand under her shirt, across the smooth hardness of her ribs. I wanted her. I wanted her right now.
Had I known it would be like this, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time hating her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SIXTEEN
A breeze, his touch, pushed aside a loose tendril.
“Let’s go to the woods and I can fool around with your hair.”
“I should go back. They’ll wonder where I am.”
“Please. Just for a little while?”
“Okay.” The mere thought of him playing with my hair sent a little tremor along the surface of my skin. After he’d loosened my braid, a small sigh escaped my lips as his fingers moved through the strands.
“You like it when I do that, don’t you?” he whispered in my ear.
“Maybe…”
“You said you’d never lie to me.”
“Yes. I do like it.”
“And this too?” he murmured as coolness crept around my throat and spread over my cheek. I closed my eyes.
“Mmm…” Soft puffs brushed my mouth. My lips parted slightly and cool air flickered past my teeth, around my tongue, and then receded.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“Letting me kiss you. Not every girl would let a dead guy kiss her.”
“I don’t think of you…that way,” I said.
“Did you like it?”
“It felt…nice.”
“You’re blushing. Was it your first kiss?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Let’s do it again. Try to kiss me back.” Tentatively I held my arms out and using my hands tried to sense his coldness in the warmth of the summer air. When I felt a chill cover my mouth I closed my eyes and suddenly it was easier. I opened my lips and felt for his icy tongue with mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SEVENTEEN
“I should know better than to insult you.” Keith rubs his arm. “You don’t hit like a girl.”
I put my hands on my hips and close the gap between us. “There are a lot of things I don’t do like a girl.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. Keith does and he’s rolling on the floor laughing at me. Literally.
“You know what I meant.” I stomp my foot. His laughter goes silent because there’s so much of it. My face heats up in embarrassment. Would I have said something so foolish before? “It sounded better in my head.”
Memories or no, I’m still the same person and I know what I have to do. I jump on him and pin his arms down. “Enough.”
He keeps grinning, but now it’s got a hint of heat behind it. He stills beneath me.
We’re all mouths and hunger and challenges and hands roaming and hot hot hot and beep beep beep. The shrill kitchen timer breaks us apart.
“Dinner’s ready,” he says, panting slightly. I smile at my ability to take his breath away.
He shifts me off him, oh me oh my those muscles. I’ve never felt so dainty before. All six feet of me doesn’t usually allow for that. And then he pulls me to my feet so fast, my stomach is left behind on the carpet. He offers me his arm and escorts me into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EIGHTTEEN
“Hey, Mariposa…” He finally speaks up once we have fled the scene and found a quieter, less populated, area.
“Eros. Really, there’s nothing to say,” I say, stopping us in our tracks and turn to face him.
“I don’t want you to think I use my…” He cringes a bit and then continues, “my special abilities to hurt people, or to prove anything to anyone. I try to never lose control.”
I can see the deep-rooted self deprecation building so I try and cut the tension. “Some god of love you are,” I smile up at him hoping my sarcasm is noted.
“Well, my dad is the god of war. I suppose that could have something to do with it.” And with his joking words I can tell that he has successfully detoured back to me, away from Brady.
When he releases my hand he reaches up to slide his thumb across my cheek. His eyes light up the sky as he takes me into his thoughts. He closes them briefly to inhale and when he exhales his lips part and he looks back at me. “When I turned sixteen my grandfather Zues placed the power of love in my hands. Giving me the most precious gift. A gift that allowed me to share pure unconditional love with the world. I spent 458 years sharing this love with others, then 2,549 years running away from it. But until now, I have never truly understood its power.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NINETEEN
We stare at each other, silently communicating what we both know we want. The heat of the hot springs is nothing compared to the heat that lingers between us, urging us together, desperate for the touch of one another. His eyes are hungry as he moves toward me. My body follows suit and we are soon pressed against each other, like two puzzle pieces crafted to be together.
I wrap my arms around his neck and press his cold mouth to mine. My entire being seems to melt into this perfect moment, a moment I’ve dreamt of often. His hands entangle themselves into my hair, holding me firmly to him as his tongue brushes gently against my lips. I can taste the faint hint of blueberries as our mouths move together in perfect unity.
He breaks away from my mouth and travels down my neck. Every touch is so soft and tantalizing, I feel overwhelmed by the desire of it. He pulls away to look at me and I find that my breath is coming harder than I would like it to. Droplets of water travel down his bare chest and all I can think of is how beautiful he is. Every inch of skin, every muscle, every hair on his body is perfectly crafted just for me.
He takes my face in his hands and stares down at me.
“I love you,” he says softly.
My chest aches with my love for him.
“I love you too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY
His light touch on my hand warmed me all over like a fleece blanket around my shoulders. “I’m really sorry about your dad.”
His acknowledgement of my pain brought the tears I’d been holding back to the surface. I blinked them away, and gazed up into his face. Way up. I had to tilt my head back to see him while we sat only an inch apart. He studied me with those unfathomable eyes of his. I felt slightly winded and dizzy. My first impulse was to retreat, but I made myself hold still, afraid to move and break the spell.
Don’t ruin it this time like you usually do, I warned myself.
Slowly, he reached up and twisted my purple and pink braid between his fingers. “A rainbow.”
My brows arched up, but I didn’t know how to respond. The words lodged in my throat. He inched his head down toward me. I stretched as far as I could to meet him. His mouth skimmed mine soft as a sigh, and his long arms looped around me, almost crushing me with his strength. Heat flashed across my skin as if I sat by a blazing fire.
A whistling sound rang in my ears, and blood rushed through my veins. I wanted to laugh, to sing. The cushions beneath me swayed like a boat on gently rocking waves, and it felt as if I were dancing, spinning, falling. For a moment we shared the same breath, the same heartbeat.
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TWENTY-ONE
He paused a moment, then leaned in close, putting his hand to her face. He still had the twinkle in his eye, but spoke seriously now, looking straight into her soul. “I can tell you that I never felt like this before,” he said in a whisper.
Melinda closed her eyes, and melted into the touch of his soft warm hand. Her blood ran hot, and a part of her felt as though she would shut down, dissolve into a puddle of goo. But another part of her felt completely alive and in control, like every nerve ending in her body was waking up for the first time.
It was when he kissed her that she had her answer. Definitely alive, but not necessarily in control. Melinda wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down to her, pressing his body against hers. But no matter how tight she held him or how close he was, she wanted tighter … closer. He was completely on top of her now. Her body trembled under his weight, and her lungs struggled to get air as she devoured him with her kisses.
Luke’s hair tangled hands held her head gently but firmly, as he and Melinda moved in rhythm. Their lips touched again and again, and curious tongues twisted and curled. Then he moved from her mouth, and she let out a tiny moan, as his hot wet lips began to fondle her earlobe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY-TWO
Of course I was worried. “They didn’t manage to kill you before and I know they’ll try again.”
He took another step closer and I looked away. His words echoed again in my mind, Asha means life, you are my life, and I felt my cheeks heat.
“You were not worried for yourself?” he said, snapping me out of me thoughts. “First Lord Purvis and now Lord Xenos. Is there no end to the men who want to take you for their own?”
“All but the one I really want,” I whispered, staring at the ground.
“You know I cannot.” Pain cracked his voice.
“If you really wanted to, you would.” It was a challenge, whispered instead of shouted.
He took one last step, all distance between us gone. “I want to.”
His chest rose and fell right in front of me. My heart pounded in my ears and I could hardly breathe. I stared at his shirt, unable to look him in the eye.
“Then do it,” I breathed.
His arms wrapped around me. I lifted my head, my mouth seeking his. And we were kissing, consuming, breathing, tasting—as if it was our first kiss, or our last. This time he didn’t stop. I wouldn’t have let him if he tried. I felt him tremble as I tangled my fingers in his hair. His hands gripped my sides and his body pressed mine gently against the wall. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him even closer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY-THREE
“I shouldn’t have pushed you into going with him that night. It was a big mistake.”
“You just now figured this out?”
“I wanted to turn around and drive back so I could tell you, but I passed him on the highway and knew I missed my chance. Dave came home that night talking about how Kurt said you two had such a great time.”
I winced.
“I couldn’t stand it but it was my own fault for letting you go. And if you wanted him instead of me… I wasn’t going to mess things up for you.”
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or if I wanted to cry. Maybe both.
“You just backed off and let me go. I thought you didn’t want me,” I said.
In one swift movement, he had my face in his hands and his lips hard on mine.
One of his hands ran around the back of my neck, twisting into my hair and pulling me even closer. It was desperate and crushing but I wanted everything he could give. I pushed into him until it hurt.
His mouth pulled away and he rested his forehead and nose against mine, and I gasped for air. I could feel the flush in my face, the electricity in his touch, and the wild butterflies inside. I tilted up my chin and kissed him again.
Where Kurt’s touch burned right through me, Will’s was deep and consuming. I wanted to slip under and stay forever.
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TWENTY-FOUR
“Hey.”
I turned, startled at the sound of the voice, at the sudden warmth that shot over my body as I heard it. Dammit. “Hey.”
Max caught up with me, keeping himself a little distance away. “So why weren’t you in chemistry?”
“I had something to do.”
He kept up with me as I turned the corner. I knew he was going in the wrong direction but I didn’t say anything. The silence felt awkward but I didn’t know how to break it. We walked side by side until we’d reached the custodian’s closet, which was propped open by a dirty bucket.
“Hey.”
I looked at him. He grinned and caught my hand and tugged me gently towards the closet. I balked at the doorway. “Seriously?”
“Come on.”
I let myself be led inside. He pushed the bucket away, the door swinging shut on its hinges. He clicked the lock and turned towards me.
“Nice to be alone for once.”
I took a step back. “For what reason?”
“Don’t look so nervous. I don’t bite.” He took a step towards me, put his hands on my arms. “For now.”
His mouth on mine was warm, his breath surprisingly sweet. Cinammoney. When I felt his hand on the back of my head, the fingers gently sliding through my hair, I opened my mouth, tasting him. The hand resting on my arm suddenly felt like a brand.
His lips trailed downward, over my throat.
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TWENTY-FIVE
The absolute dark made me feel both safe and vulnerable. Pandora’s hands slid up my back, tracing my spine, to my shoulder blades and around to my chest. Her face burrowed into my neck and I smiled at her heightened breathing on my skin. I lowered my nose to her hair as my hands moved as slow as hers. I followed the arch of her hip and the dip of her waist to the delicate ridges of her ribs. My hands slid around to her shoulder blades and up her back. Her hands dropped to my waist and traveled around to the front of my stomach.
My heart thundered and my blood roared in my ears.
I traced the slope of her neck with my fingertips. Her pulse jumped as I traveled over it and I leaned over, pressing my lips to that spot.
A faint gasp escaped her, her fingers curling into the waistband of my pants.
I traced her jaw and kissed it. My fingers memorized her cheekbones, followed by my lips. I kissed her eyelids. My thumb followed the outline of her lips, which parted under my touch. Her breathing sped up and I knew mine was doing the same as I leaned to her and brushed my lips so faintly over hers it was if they hadn’t touched.
Her fingers curled into my shirt then slid up my chest as I whispered my lips across hers again. “Pandora…”
“Kiss me, Lucas.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY-SIX
He’s back, and he’s safe. I’m no longer tired. He turns and looks at me with a smile. There’s no way he is getting out of this bedroom any time soon. I lock the door.
And then I let my towel fall to the floor.
His eyes barely have time to flare before he’s crossed the room in two long strides. He pauses briefly, standing so close his body heat radiates through his clothes. His warmth makes me shiver. The need in his eyes as he looks at me from head to toe makes me flush with heat. He pulls me closer, I press tightly against him. We both gasp, it’s been weeks since we were together. His mouth finds mine. My tongue eagerly explores his. The feeling is electric.
I’ve missed him so much.
I press my hand against the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He nips my lip.
I want more.
His hands trail down my back, kneading as they go lower, until he scoops me up. I wrap my legs around him, and throw my arms around his neck. Our kiss is broken, but his hands continue to explore as he carries me over to the bed. He devours me with his eyes as he sets me gently on the edge of the bed, and kneels down on the floor in front of me. I rip his t-shirt off and throw it across the room. I need to feel his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY-SEVEN
To take what isn’t yours, is never right. But I was always going to be one of life’s takers. Rayanne on the other hand was a giver through and through.
I glanced over at her – my best friend, propped up against the bar chatting to some girl. Her flame-red hair on fire against her pale skin. She was smiling, laughing, oblivious to the fact that I was about to steal the one moment – the one person she wanted most in the world.
My heart skipped a beat. And for a split-second I nearly bottled out. I mean best friends tell each other everything, right? And oh how she’d TOLD me about him. Cy Davies, the shaggy haired, 15 year-old, Kurt Cobain look-a-like – the person she thought about first in the morning and last thing at night. The face that haunted her waking hours and her dreams.
And here he was, sat sprawled out on the bench next to me. His legs splayed, the rips in his jeans exposing the white of his boxers underneath. I took a deep breath and gazed up into his piercing blue eyes.
‘Come here sexy,’ he whispered his breath hot against my ear.
I flinched as he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. I could see Rayanne over his shoulder. She’d noticed us now, a mix of fear and betrayal on her face. I kept my eyes locked on hers and tilted my chin upwards – my lips meeting his.
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TWENTY-EIGHT
The movie started and compared to all the many things Brenden and I could be doing at the moment, I felt super bored. Setting my popcorn down, I reached over to put my hand on his knee. He smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I pretended to watch the movie for a while, then fake-coughed into my hand, cunningly setting it higher up on his thigh when I returned it back to his leg. Brenden didn’t stir. Didn’t even seem to notice.
I waited longer to do it again, but this time I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and set my hand up really high this time. Maybe too high. Yeah, I think it was definitely too high. And Brenden noticed. His mouth was suddenly on my ear, hot breath spreading goose bumps all over my skin.
We were in the back row, of course – maybe our subconscious had known that we were in the mood to make out after all – and the movie was so full of action, nobody bothered to pay attention to ours. I moved a hand up to Brenden’s shirt hem and up inside. I touched the skin on his side and shivered. Muscly and soft.
He pushed his mouth harder to mine.
We stayed that way for a long time – I couldn’t even tell you what turn the movie had taken by now – until he moved his hand to just under my shirt, like I had done with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWENTY-NINE
I love her. The words in my brain make my body move. I’m no longer in control, but my path is straight towards her. I don’t look at anything else, only her. There is only the need to be next to her. I don’t stop when I reach her—I press her against the wall and kiss her.
My hands tilt her face up to meet mine. I never realized how much taller I am until now. And the kiss is white fire. She gasps when I touch her, unexpected. I am aware of every molecule in my body and how it is lining up with hers, softness and curves. Her mouth doesn’t resist mine, it joins in, fights back, pulls me in.
I feel her skin under my hands. It pours heat into my body and roots me to the earth. And under that, there is the deepest sense of knowing that this is right, manifesting itself in a delicious ache that consumes my body. Somewhere in my brain I know I should stop, but I can’t. I kiss her until I’m not sure where we separate.
She breaks away, breathless. I can’t say that I’m not.
“You wanna dance?” She pulls me towards the dance floor before I have a chance to answer. Her fingers, interlaced with mine, tow me into the crowd of whirling bodies. The lights are pulsing green, blue, purple, gold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY
“So how’s that love life going now?” she said after a while. “Considering you’ve managed to lure a girl out to your balcony, I’d say it’s much better than when we last talked about it.”
“I’d have to agree with you there.”
He smiled as he was watched her—watched the way the moon caught her eyes, watched the way it bathed her skin in its silvery light, watched the way it made her look even more beautiful.
He felt himself slide his hand closer to hers, felt her warmth surround him.
“Um.” She looked down at her feet. It took Alex a second to realize she was blushing. “And also, I was kind of wondering… would you—”
But Alex didn’t let her finish.
“Sure.” He felt something push him forward as he said it—the wind, perhaps, or maybe just instinct. And something in the very depths of his brain told him it was time. Everything felt so right as he whispered, “Allow me” and leaned over, just millimeters away from her face. He took a breath before his lips touched hers. Before he kissed her. Her lips were soft against his; so warm and sweet as they interlocked. He placed his hands on her cheeks, ever so delicately, and kissed her some more.
Suddenly, nothing existed. No sounds, no people, no thoughts. Just each other. He smiled through the kiss as moonlight streamed down on them, encircling them, embracing them, forcing them even closer together.
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THIRTY-ONE
I manage to make my head move, nod. “N-no, this is best. This is what I w-wanted.”
“Okay, then.” A pause, then his steps crunch away down the alley. He stops and calls back to me, “You’re, um, you’re still…celibate, right?”
I nod again.
“Good, ‘cause, I think…Right, I really don’t think…” He’s moving closer again. “If it were you, I think I might…kill— Not literally. Forgot who I’m talking to. Jeeze. Them, not you, but not literally.”
From the tremor in his voice, I think maybe he does mean it literally. Therein lies the ugliness of jealousy. So why do my insides suddenly feel all cozy and fizzy?
“I don’t mean that,” he says, right behind me now. “You should do what you want. I’m not threatening you. That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
I turn to face him. “I know, thanks, but, yes, I am celibate. I don’t think I could, anyway, with anybody else—”
His lips on mine cut me off.
There’s no gentleness to this kiss. Not to say he’s not tender, but his mouth threatens to tear open my split lip, while his callused fingertips map my cheeks, forehead, chin, raising goosebumps on my skin. He backs me up against one of the brick walls lining the alley, and I grasp his belt loops to keep my hands from wandering to his face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY-TWO
Taldred removed his cloak, shaking out his disheveled hair, which had grown out from its neat, short cut since Anwe had first met him in Lóeiva, and combined with his amethyst eyes that flickered in the lantern’s candlelight, he looked wild and remarkably attractive.
Anwe blushed at the thought and hastily placed the lantern on the table between them, nearly knocking it over in the process.
If Anwe was all nervous energy, Taldred was the face of serenity. He leaned against the back of the chair, slightly slouched, a small crease between his brows as he stared into the darkness of the room.
“What are you thinking about?” Anwe asked.
Taldred focused his violet eyes on her. “I’m wondering if I’ll make it through this alive,” he said.
His words took Anwe by surprise, and she swallowed. “Make it through what, exactly?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Taldred stared at her.
Anwe could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise under the intensity of his gaze.
“I’m going back to Carim,” he said evenly. “I’m going to save him.” He leaned forward and slid his hand across the table. “Anwe, if I don’t make it…”
Anwe felt her throat tightening up—she couldn’t speak—and shook her head, her heart racing. She felt dizzy.
Taldred reached his hand out to Anwe—she could have been made of stone for the stiffness in her posture—and lifted the necklace from her chest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY-THREE
Our mouths slowly embrace. Fevered tingles disperse touching and tickling my core as his warm tongue dances around mine. The urgent force of his palm against the back of my head brings my mouth deeper into his. We have found each other’s portal to the others soul and we enter simultaneously. His free hand fidgets with the button for the elevator. As the door opens, he scoops me into his arms and walks in backwards. His back presses against the wall before he carefully sets me down. “I love you, Mel.”
His breath is heavy and his arms are strong as they coil around me strengthening with each movement of our mouths. Emptiness rapes my mind as his lips seperate and pull away. “I don’t want to stop but we must,” he whispers before gently sweeping a final kiss across my forehead. The voids he filled return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY-FOUR
Though people are starting to filter out of the school, I follow her into the parking lot. Chances are, without her blaring music, or the start of school, no one will really see us.
“Claire!”
She whirls around so quickly, with sledgehammers in her eyes, it’s not hard to imagine her pummeling Ashley. “What, Andrew?” she spits, somehow making my name sound like vomiting up poison.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry, because I’m not. I didn’t know he was going to read them out loud.”
“Neat,” she spits, spinning back around and marching straight for her car.
In two steps, I overtake her and stand between her and her escape route.
“Get out of my way!” she yells, attempting to push me to the side.
“Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re lying,” I say, refusing to let her pass me.
“Get the f— out of my way!” she screams.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”
Something like a grunt or growl escapes her mouth, and like a bull in the arena, I expect her to charge at me.
“F— you,” she says before shoving me hard enough to move me a few feet.
“It’s not a bad thing to have people care about you!” I say, walking to catch up to her.
She whirls again, bright hair taking a second to keep up with the fastness of her head, and for a moment I’m standing before a girl on the cover of a magazine…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY-FIVE
Nathaniel was going to be the stick in my spokes, when it came to my new relationship with Lex.
“Gabe, what’s wrong?”
I had the overwhelming urge to make sure she was mine, that she’d only ever want me. I wanted to fill her heart so full of me there’d be no room for Nathaniel or any other guy. Pulling her into my arms, I tried to convey to her what I was too choked up to voice. I took her face in my hands, tangled my fingers in her hair, and grazed her lips with mine. So soft. Gentle at first, but the pressure of my mouth built on hers until she opened to me. I slipped past her lips, our tongues sliding against one another, breath mingling. She was mint and vanilla, sweet and spice. The velvet feel of her mouth sent my blood surging through my veins, heating me to the core. I wanted more. More of her. More of everything.
She should remember this kiss every day for the rest of her life. Matching my intensity, she leaned in, curving perfectly into me, making my … heart… swell. Pleasure, given and taken. My body stirred, pulse thumping wildly. Need. My need for her ripped through me with a force that might have scared me, if I hadn’t already known how tied up my heart was with hers. Tied up with wax string, duct tape, and bailing wire. There was no way it’d ever shake loose.
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THIRTY-SIX
He sits up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I freeze while he fixes the parts sticking up. When he’s done, his hand slides down to cup my face.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What?”
“I couldn’t fix it all.” He nods to my hair. “You’re still beautiful.”
My breath hitches and my gaze drops to his lips. Are they coming closer? Holy crap.
He stops. “Is this okay?”
What? He has an amused smile on his face.
I nod quickly. “It’s fine. I just—”
“Stay still.”
His hand slips behind my neck, pulling me closer. His breath comes in warm puffs on my lips as he nears. Our noses touch. I used to think actresses closed their eyes to make the moment real. But I can’t help it. My world goes dark, but I can feel everything.
The pressure of Sebastian’s fingers on my neck, his breath along my lips, his body leaning closer—all stronger with my eyes closed. The grass is scratchy beneath my dress, my palms are pressed painfully into the dirt, but I don’t care. I let him come closer.
I’ve never been kissed before. Well, there was Casey Raymond, but we were both twelve and too young to have a clue what we were doing. But this, this is real. This, as his mouth slowly presses against mine. This, as my body flushes so hot I think I’m on fire. This is my first real kiss. And it’s amazing.
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THIRTY-SEVEN
Evan’s body immediately responds to mine. I feel his heart pounding through his T-shirt, hear his breath quickening.
He takes my face in his hands and strokes my bottom lip softly with his thumb, staring at me with an intensity I’ve never before experienced. A wave of passion washes over me, and my entire body quivers with fear and longing.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for answers.
I nod and follow him into his room, setting my guitar case next to the bed. He pins me to the wall and begins kissing me deeply, wildly, his hands in my hair and hips flush against mine. I can feel his excitement through my clothes and my breath catches.
He unbuttons my blouse, exposing my lacy beige bra, and glances down, taking me in.
“So beautiful,” he whispers and his words light a fire within me. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly. Evan runs his thumb from the crook of my neck down to the inside of my jeans and I gasp as he undoes the top button.
He pauses to pull his own shirt off, and I’m amazed by how fit he is, every muscle defined. The body of a disciplined athlete. When he turns back to face me, his dark eyes are soft and vulnerable like a child’s.
God, he’s so damn hot.
Feeling brave, I start to unbuckle his belt––praying I’ll know what to do next. He inhales sharply, his gaze never leaving mine.
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THIRTY-EIGHT
I’m so caught up in the beautiful sights and talking with God, I don’t notice Pedro’s gaze at first.
“What are jew thinking about?” It seems he’s noticed that I’ve noticed.
“Well…” I turn to him. “I was just thinking about how beautiful the night is, and how great of an artist God is.”
His head tilts.
I point up. “I paint sometimes, but I could never create anything as beautiful as what God already has.”
One side of his mouth curls. “I agree.” He looks back at me. “God creates the most beautiful things, but those stars do not compare to jour eyes.”
I blush and look away. There’s an awkward silence. I need to say something. “What are you thinking about?” I blurt out.
“I am thinking about what it would be like to kees jew.”
My heart ping-pongs inside my chest. I find his eyes. He’s waiting for an answer. Permission.
Ah, what the hell. Live for today, right? “There’s only one way to find out,” I taunt.
He pauses for a moment, as if processing what I’ve said. His eyes perk and I know he understands.
One of my hands press into the ground to keep my balance, while my other reaches for his face; his chiseled jaw, soft cheeks, warm skin. Like magnets we pull together at equal speeds.
Just breathe.
My lips part and fit into his perfectly. His top lip falls in between mine and I pull at it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THIRTY-NINE
We walk for another block in silence, Luke’s protective arm around my waist, keeping my steady and holding me up when I have trouble with my heels. The air has gotten warmer. Sweat drips down my temples and onto my cheeks. My world spins around me and I close my eyes, trusting Luke to walk in a straight line.
“Are you okay?” Luke asks. He stares at me with worry etched into his flawless face. He stops walking and turns me to face him.
“Yeah, just a little dizzy,” I say.
His hand is on my arm, but it doesn’t throw my body into blinding, terrifying panic. This touch is gentle and selfless, making me trust him even more.
My gaze falls from his concerned eyes to his barely parted mouth. I push up onto my tip toes and press my lips to his, sliding my hands up his chest to keep my balance. His muscles tense, hardening under my touch, as his lips part against mine and his tongue traces my bottom lip.
The touch is a shock to my system and I jerk away, eyes wide and breathing hard. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I say.
My heart thunders in my ears and its rhythm is matched against my hand still on Luke’s chest. He stares back at me, like he’s trying to figure out what just happened.
“I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again,” I say.
I barely finish speaking when his lips crash into mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FORTY
Jaybird ran a hand down my cheek to the nape of my neck. “You’re flushed. Hot weather.”
I took his hand in both of mine, stretched open his fingers and kissed his palm. “So are you.”
Within the circle of his arms, I turned around to face him. “It’s such a warm day, you’ll sweat under this.” I pulled at the laces at the top of his tunic and laid it open. With the tips of my fingers, I traced the skin over his collarbones.
His hands dropped down to my waist. “This belt must make it hard to catch your breath, what with the heat and all.” He worked at the buckle and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. My tunic followed so that I stood in the sheer fabric of my linen underclothes. I might have shivered in the breeze, but an ember had lit beneath my ribs. Tendrils from that growing flame coiled into my belly and thighs.
Jaybird knelt before me and brushed his lips along each of the alloyint scars on my stomach. “To make it better,” he purred.
I leaned down and gave him a long kiss while I drew his tunic up. He raised his arms so I could pull it over his head. His muscles were long and lean over shoulders and back.
I bent my head again. His warm, moist tongue tickled my mouth and I caught his lower lip in my teeth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FORTY-ONE
And that was the mouth Branwen needed to kiss. This would, in fact, be her first kiss. Her first kiss might very possibly be with a dead man. But he was an impossibly gorgeous dead man.
Summoning all of her courage, she pressed her lips to his. They were salt-stained and irresistibly sweet. She pinched her fingertips over his nose and breathed life into him.
More than Branwen had wanted anything since her parents died, she wanted to save this beautiful stranger. She shuddered as he took in her breath. Instantaneously, he coughed hard and sprayed her with saltwater. Despite the cold seeping into her body, her cheeks burned hot.
The stranger wheezed and spat more water out into the sand. It seemed as if he had swallowed the entire Irish Sea. Branwen felt his neck for a pulse. His skin was flaky like a snakeskin from the sun.
Finally, the stranger opened his eyes. They were a sparkling aquamarine that put Mermaid’s Hair to shame. He regarded his savior curiously.
Branwen stepped back because for the first time in her life, she felt an inexorable pull. It was dragging her towards the stranger.
And then he smiled. “That was some kiss.”
She touched her flaming lips as the words reverberated in her mind. The stranger’s voice had a strange lilt to it. He wasn’t Irish.
She stepped back, eyes widening in disbelief. The beautiful stranger was a Cornishman.
Branwen had just saved the life of her enemy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FORTY-TWO
Forget the passionate Scarlett O’Hara-Rhett Butler kiss I fantasized about, I belonged in the dictionary under the word choke.
Seth’s head tilted slightly left as his eyes took in every inch of my face. I felt my cheeks blush when he zeroed in on my mouth. When his arms slipped around my waist he pulled me so close my chest smashed against his.
What if I was a terrible kisser? The question boomed in my head over and over clouding my vision. Attempting to fight off the fear I decided to go for it. Diving forward I managed to plant my lips directly on his neck, missing his mouth by at least six inches.
Seth let out a soft groan that sent shivers down my spine. As I nibbled my way up to his ear an image of my Grams shaking her finger at me popped in my mind. Visiting confessional every day for the next ten years wouldn’t absolve me of the abomination I was about to commit. Gypsies and their archaic dating rituals. My mom might not mind so much-Holy crap, instead of mapping the freckles on Seth’s nose I worried about the overbearing women in my life.
I needed to slap myself back into focus, but thankfully Seth did it for me, or at least his lips did. My stomach flipped when I tasted the trace amount of powdered sugar from the funnel cake we shared a few minutes earlier.
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Pick your top FIVE:
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You want in? You want to win either a crit of your open or a 20 min convo with the Laird, otherwise known as Super Agent Lauren Macleod? You want to show off your kissy kissy scene? Well, this is the place to do it!
Make sure you follow the rules (hint: I am big on rules) and post your first 250 words of your kissing scene ANONYMOUSLY below.
AND make sure you’re entering your the Kiss Off Contest as well. The KISS OFF Contest rules are HERE on Valerie Cole’s kick butt blog.
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Contest opens at on this post 9am on Friday!!!
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I am very lucky to know Elyssa Patrick. She knows more about Romance while she’s napping than I do when I’m straining my brain. And I am just as lucky to have gotten to read her soon-to-be-released book. To the point where last year I said to someone, You need to buy this book I just finished. It’s great and… Oh, wait. It’s not out yet.
But it will be soon!
Also, don’t forget that tomorrow the Kiss / Kiss-Off Contest opens. Rules HERE & HERE.
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Thanks, Bria, for having me blog about one of my most favorite subjects ever to write in romance—kisses!
Now, for those who don’t know me, I can most assuredly say that if there’s two thing I’m very confident in writing, it’s dialogue and kissing scenes.
Why do you ask?
Well, to make my Oprah story short: when I was growing up, I had a horrible speech impediment and was bullied because of it, so much so that they would throw boxes over my head and call me “Bow Wow” because a dog would be easier to understand than me. Oh, middle school children, you can be so cruel. My outcast position continued in high school where I ditched Dante’s Inferno, otherwise known as the cafeteria, and found refuge in the library. I had a few friends and was in clubs, but I mostly never belonged and never ever went to any parties. And I most definitely never had a boyfriend.
I always loved to read and in high school, I started watching classic movies and reading romances. Classic movies developed my ear for snappy dialogue. If the movie happened to be a romantic comedy, I focused on the relationship between the hero and heroine, especially that “first kiss” moment.
For romances I mostly “borrowed” them from my mother’s nightstand and would secretly read them while she was out doing errands or borrow a book from toward the end of her pile. (My reasoning was that if it was at the end then surely she wouldn’t know it was missing and I could return it in a day.) This stealthy habit honed my speed reading skills and, because I couldn’t dog-ear the pages, I would have to memorize page numbers or the scene I was on.
I loved all the romances that I read (mainly historical and all Avon!). The heroines were usually wallflowers and being a very shy sixteen-year-old I loved how these equally shy girls came into her own and how the most desirable man fell for her. I sighed at the grand gesture, loved the black moments, and almost always when the woman threatened to escape for her to actually follow through on this plan to create more drama, lol.
But I especially loved the kisses.
Kisses in the classic movies and the romances I’d read were . . . transforming. It was a definitive Before the Kiss and After the Kiss. When the kiss happened, it changed the hero and heroine.
So when I started to write, I thought of what I’d seen and what I’d read, drawing on those experiences, and also adding what I knew what I wanted to accomplish with a kiss.
I always wanted the kiss to be a sweep away moment. You know what I mean. It’s those moments when all breath leaves your body as his mouth slowly descends to yours, where every fiber of your being in focused on that one moment when lips meet lips, and when you finally—finally—get to find out if he’s as good as you’ve hoped him to be.
Of course there are a lot of frogs out there. And some first kisses aren’t exactly what you imagined them to be. My first kiss actually took place on a stage—as in I was cast in a role and the actor had to kiss me. As you can imagine, I obsessed about this moment and was so paranoid I ate so many mints. And when the time came, it was over and done with in a blink of an eye.
I write kisses that I want to write. And most often when I’m critiquing one of my cps’ books or beta reading for someone else and the kiss feels short, I will write SLOW THIS MOMENT DOWN.
Kisses are powerful. When you kiss someone—even if you are acting with the person—it changes the relationship. You can never go back to not kissing someone.
So, if you’re looking to improve your kissing scenes, here are some things I do. They may or may not work for you:
1. Slow everything down. This is a huge moment for the characters, and, despite what some may argue, kissing matters! You know what that kiss feels like, the type, the feel of the lips . . . I like to make details stand out so that the kiss feels very real.
2. Do not shortchange the kiss. This goes along with #1. In my opinion there is nothing worse when there’s been such a build up between the hero and heroine of this longing as in one character has been deeply in love with the other without his/her knowledge, and then you get to the kiss and it happens in a blink of an eye. Do not build up all the tension and leave your characters—and your readers—high and dry. Reward your characters. Reward yourself. Reward your readers. Even if the kiss is a harsh, fast one—you still make it count.
3. Anchor the kiss in emotion. Whether it be in anger, desire, pent up frustration, longing, etc, I like there for the kisses to have an emotional factor to them.
4. Kissing changes things. And show that—how it changes the relationship, puts things into motion—because these characters can never go back to how they were before. Even if they’re married but separated for x many years, this is the FIRST time that they’ve kissed. So how does that change them? What do they do?
5. The kiss is a lead up to sex . . . or something more (if you don’t write sex scenes in your book). You’re building the foundations of the relationship between the hero and heroine with the kiss. Hopefully you want your characters to have an awesome sex life (even if you close the door on your sex scenes). Every kiss you write should build up to sex or something more or just keep raising the sexual tension.
6. And have fun! If you honestly enjoy writing kissing scenes and take pride in them, it will show in your writing.
Kissing matters. And if you do it right, you’ll create powerful stuff in your story.
And to show you one of my kissing scenes, here’s my second kissing scene from AS YOU WISH, which I’m self-publishing in September. To anchor the scene for you, Portia (the heroine) has just kissed Aubry (the hero) and it didn’t go that well. This is what follows. Please note though that this scene is unedited:
She’d acted rashly and now paid the price. And she couldn’t look at him any longer.
Portia turned around and went to the table where they’d eaten dinner. When there had been an easy camaraderie between them, and she had felt an elusive spark when he’d touched her palm.
She picked up her coat and hugged it to her chest as she sat down in the booth and searched for a pair of headlights. Nothing. There was no salvation in sight. Portia heard footsteps coming toward her. Closing her eyes, she prayed he wouldn’t sit down.
The prayer went unanswered.
Her eyes flew open, and she let out a little squeak as he sat down next to her, pushing her over to make room for his tall, lean body. Her coat was taken from her and thrown to the opposite seat. His hands went to her upper arms and turned her until her back was pressed to the wall, her head against the cold pane of glass.
He leaned over, his hair falling over his shoulders and forehead. He didn’t let go of her to brush his hair back. Without thinking, she did it for him and let the soft, silky fibers of his hair slide through her fingers.
His hands let go of her arms and cupped her face. His thumbs brushed under the hollows of her cheekbones. “I didn’t mean what I said—about your kiss being unpleasant.”
Suddenly, the weights were cut off and she broke the surface, sucking in grateful breaths of air. His thumbs continued to caress her cheeks, then outlined her mouth.
“You have such a wicked mouth. Fuller right here. Bee stung.” He lightly tapped against the middle of her lower lip, almost like he was testing the softness. “You tasted as sweet as honey. You could taste even sweeter.”
“I—I could?”
His fingers left her mouth and tilted her chin upward. Aubry lowered his head, his lips inches away from hers. His breath fanned over hers, and she shivered in delight. “See, a kiss is not just a kiss. To make it good—really good—anticipation is the key. You don’t go all-out, full throttle as you did. Slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady,” she repeated in a shaky whisper.
He held up one hand and raised his index finger. “You employ the five senses. First sense: smell.” Aubry’s forehead touched hers. “Peonies and peppermint. I can smell your perfume when you shake your head. I can smell it at the base of your throat and behind your earlobes. I want to take your earlobe in my mouth and suck it.”
“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.
“Next is sight. You know what I see? Your flushed response. Parted lips. A moist, pink tongue. Dark hazel eyes full of need and want. You want my kiss, don’t you, Portia?
“I can feel how you want me.” His finger skated a path down her throat, traced a small circle in the hollow. Her pulse hammered in the side of her throat. “Even here, your heart is beating fast. You’re so soft. Very soft and you feel better than the finest satin. Third sense is hearing. You hear how I want you. How I want to place my mouth over yours. Show you what a kiss really is and can be. How I want you naked under me, where your skin would be pale in the moonlight, and you’d be like hot velvet closing around me.
“But you don’t want a one night stand. I respect that.” His mouth still hovered over hers. Only his hands touched her. “Last are touch and taste. I’ve touched you. Here on your cheeks. Here on your lips. Here on your neck. Only with my fingers. I want to place my mouth on you. Lick you where the sweet meets the spicy. Taste you. Before I do that, I have to show you how to kiss. I could tell you. Give you a step by step instruction.”
“Don’t do that. Show me. Kiss me, Aubry.”
“As you wish.” Aubry’s hand left her throat, cupped her chin. She placed her hands against his chest, felt his heart pounding away. His mouth lowered so slowly, closing the painful few inches between them. Then his lips were finally on hers.
A soft, tender kiss nipped her lower lip gently, and when one kiss ended, another promptly began. He was slow. Steady. His lips moved over hers in an easy rhythm, teaching her how to move in tune with him.
It was dancing. Waltzing in his arms in some grand ballroom, one where he led and she gladly followed. Because she’d never danced like this. She’d never been really kissed until now.
She moved her hands up and around his neck. Surrendered. Let everything else fall away and finally began to live in the moment.
He kissed her again. Devastatingly light. One that promised more; it left her in . . . anticipation. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck and his lips left hers. She whimpered and tightened her hold. She didn’t want it to end so soon.
His knuckles ran down the side of her cheek. His lips trailed a patchwork of kisses along her jawline to her ear. He stopped. “I want to put my mouth on you everywhere. Kiss you where I haven’t touched you yet.”
Oh, yes, she wanted that, too. Desperately. She wanted to touch him. And kiss him from head to toe.
His teeth nipped at her earlobe. Suckled on it. A pinprick of electricity raced through her body, zapping her in delicious shockwaves. He kissed the side of her neck, licked the pulse racing there. Placed his lips at the hollow of her throat, traced a circle with his tongue followed by another soft kiss. Kisses back up to her mouth.
This time his kiss wasn’t soft or tender. It was fire. His lips demanded and urged her mouth to open further. His tongue slipped inside, teasing her. When he retreated, she followed him, tasting him in return.
He cupped her face tenderly, even though his kiss was nothing of the sort. It made her feel delicate and strong all at once.
His kisses made her hear music. Not the Christmas music that played from the speakers. Deep, dark rhythmic pounding, and the sound of chimes and footsteps.
Footsteps? Why did she hear footsteps?
So tell me . . . what do you think matters in kissing?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elyssa Patrick is a former high school English teacher who left the classroom to write fun, sexy, and emotional contemporary romances. Besides being slightly addicted to chocolate, she loves cupcakes, classic movies, and Shakespeare. She is a member of RWA. Elyssa lives in New York, where she is currently working on her next novel.
Website: http://elyssapatrick.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @elyssapatrick
I am very lucky to know Elyssa Patrick. She knows more about Romance while she’s napping than I do when I’m straining my brain. And I am just as lucky to have gotten to read her soon-to-be-released book. To the point where last year I said to someone, You need to buy this book I just finished. It’s great and… Oh, wait. It’s not out yet.
But it will be soon!
Also, don’t forget that tomorrow the Kiss / Kiss-Off Contest opens. Rules HERE & HERE.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks, Bria, for having me blog about one of my most favorite subjects ever to write in romance—kisses!
Now, for those who don’t know me, I can most assuredly say that if there’s two thing I’m very confident in writing, it’s dialogue and kissing scenes.
Why do you ask?
Well, to make my Oprah story short: when I was growing up, I had a horrible speech impediment and was bullied because of it, so much so that they would throw boxes over my head and call me “Bow Wow” because a dog would be easier to understand than me. Oh, middle school children, you can be so cruel. My outcast position continued in high school where I ditched Dante’s Inferno, otherwise known as the cafeteria, and found refuge in the library. I had a few friends and was in clubs, but I mostly never belonged and never ever went to any parties. And I most definitely never had a boyfriend.
I always loved to read and in high school, I started watching classic movies and reading romances. Classic movies developed my ear for snappy dialogue. If the movie happened to be a romantic comedy, I focused on the relationship between the hero and heroine, especially that “first kiss” moment.
For romances I mostly “borrowed” them from my mother’s nightstand and would secretly read them while she was out doing errands or borrow a book from toward the end of her pile. (My reasoning was that if it was at the end then surely she wouldn’t know it was missing and I could return it in a day.) This stealthy habit honed my speed reading skills and, because I couldn’t dog-ear the pages, I would have to memorize page numbers or the scene I was on.
I loved all the romances that I read (mainly historical and all Avon!). The heroines were usually wallflowers and being a very shy sixteen-year-old I loved how these equally shy girls came into her own and how the most desirable man fell for her. I sighed at the grand gesture, loved the black moments, and almost always when the woman threatened to escape for her to actually follow through on this plan to create more drama, lol.
But I especially loved the kisses.
Kisses in the classic movies and the romances I’d read were . . . transforming. It was a definitive Before the Kiss and After the Kiss. When the kiss happened, it changed the hero and heroine.
So when I started to write, I thought of what I’d seen and what I’d read, drawing on those experiences, and also adding what I knew what I wanted to accomplish with a kiss.
I always wanted the kiss to be a sweep away moment. You know what I mean. It’s those moments when all breath leaves your body as his mouth slowly descends to yours, where every fiber of your being in focused on that one moment when lips meet lips, and when you finally—finally—get to find out if he’s as good as you’ve hoped him to be.
Of course there are a lot of frogs out there. And some first kisses aren’t exactly what you imagined them to be. My first kiss actually took place on a stage—as in I was cast in a role and the actor had to kiss me. As you can imagine, I obsessed about this moment and was so paranoid I ate so many mints. And when the time came, it was over and done with in a blink of an eye.
I write kisses that I want to write. And most often when I’m critiquing one of my cps’ books or beta reading for someone else and the kiss feels short, I will write SLOW THIS MOMENT DOWN.
Kisses are powerful. When you kiss someone—even if you are acting with the person—it changes the relationship. You can never go back to not kissing someone.
So, if you’re looking to improve your kissing scenes, here are some things I do. They may or may not work for you:
1. Slow everything down. This is a huge moment for the characters, and, despite what some may argue, kissing matters! You know what that kiss feels like, the type, the feel of the lips . . . I like to make details stand out so that the kiss feels very real.
2. Do not shortchange the kiss. This goes along with #1. In my opinion there is nothing worse when there’s been such a build up between the hero and heroine of this longing as in one character has been deeply in love with the other without his/her knowledge, and then you get to the kiss and it happens in a blink of an eye. Do not build up all the tension and leave your characters—and your readers—high and dry. Reward your characters. Reward yourself. Reward your readers. Even if the kiss is a harsh, fast one—you still make it count.
3. Anchor the kiss in emotion. Whether it be in anger, desire, pent up frustration, longing, etc, I like there for the kisses to have an emotional factor to them.
4. Kissing changes things. And show that—how it changes the relationship, puts things into motion—because these characters can never go back to how they were before. Even if they’re married but separated for x many years, this is the FIRST time that they’ve kissed. So how does that change them? What do they do?
5. The kiss is a lead up to sex . . . or something more (if you don’t write sex scenes in your book). You’re building the foundations of the relationship between the hero and heroine with the kiss. Hopefully you want your characters to have an awesome sex life (even if you close the door on your sex scenes). Every kiss you write should build up to sex or something more or just keep raising the sexual tension.
6. And have fun! If you honestly enjoy writing kissing scenes and take pride in them, it will show in your writing.
Kissing matters. And if you do it right, you’ll create powerful stuff in your story.
And to show you one of my kissing scenes, here’s my second kissing scene from AS YOU WISH, which I’m self-publishing in September. To anchor the scene for you, Portia (the heroine) has just kissed Aubry (the hero) and it didn’t go that well. This is what follows. Please note though that this scene is unedited:
She’d acted rashly and now paid the price. And she couldn’t look at him any longer.
Portia turned around and went to the table where they’d eaten dinner. When there had been an easy camaraderie between them, and she had felt an elusive spark when he’d touched her palm.
She picked up her coat and hugged it to her chest as she sat down in the booth and searched for a pair of headlights. Nothing. There was no salvation in sight. Portia heard footsteps coming toward her. Closing her eyes, she prayed he wouldn’t sit down.
The prayer went unanswered.
Her eyes flew open, and she let out a little squeak as he sat down next to her, pushing her over to make room for his tall, lean body. Her coat was taken from her and thrown to the opposite seat. His hands went to her upper arms and turned her until her back was pressed to the wall, her head against the cold pane of glass.
He leaned over, his hair falling over his shoulders and forehead. He didn’t let go of her to brush his hair back. Without thinking, she did it for him and let the soft, silky fibers of his hair slide through her fingers.
His hands let go of her arms and cupped her face. His thumbs brushed under the hollows of her cheekbones. “I didn’t mean what I said—about your kiss being unpleasant.”
Suddenly, the weights were cut off and she broke the surface, sucking in grateful breaths of air. His thumbs continued to caress her cheeks, then outlined her mouth.
“You have such a wicked mouth. Fuller right here. Bee stung.” He lightly tapped against the middle of her lower lip, almost like he was testing the softness. “You tasted as sweet as honey. You could taste even sweeter.”
“I—I could?”
His fingers left her mouth and tilted her chin upward. Aubry lowered his head, his lips inches away from hers. His breath fanned over hers, and she shivered in delight. “See, a kiss is not just a kiss. To make it good—really good—anticipation is the key. You don’t go all-out, full throttle as you did. Slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady,” she repeated in a shaky whisper.
He held up one hand and raised his index finger. “You employ the five senses. First sense: smell.” Aubry’s forehead touched hers. “Peonies and peppermint. I can smell your perfume when you shake your head. I can smell it at the base of your throat and behind your earlobes. I want to take your earlobe in my mouth and suck it.”
“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.
“Next is sight. You know what I see? Your flushed response. Parted lips. A moist, pink tongue. Dark hazel eyes full of need and want. You want my kiss, don’t you, Portia?
“I can feel how you want me.” His finger skated a path down her throat, traced a small circle in the hollow. Her pulse hammered in the side of her throat. “Even here, your heart is beating fast. You’re so soft. Very soft and you feel better than the finest satin. Third sense is hearing. You hear how I want you. How I want to place my mouth over yours. Show you what a kiss really is and can be. How I want you naked under me, where your skin would be pale in the moonlight, and you’d be like hot velvet closing around me.
“But you don’t want a one night stand. I respect that.” His mouth still hovered over hers. Only his hands touched her. “Last are touch and taste. I’ve touched you. Here on your cheeks. Here on your lips. Here on your neck. Only with my fingers. I want to place my mouth on you. Lick you where the sweet meets the spicy. Taste you. Before I do that, I have to show you how to kiss. I could tell you. Give you a step by step instruction.”
“Don’t do that. Show me. Kiss me, Aubry.”
“As you wish.” Aubry’s hand left her throat, cupped her chin. She placed her hands against his chest, felt his heart pounding away. His mouth lowered so slowly, closing the painful few inches between them. Then his lips were finally on hers.
A soft, tender kiss nipped her lower lip gently, and when one kiss ended, another promptly began. He was slow. Steady. His lips moved over hers in an easy rhythm, teaching her how to move in tune with him.
It was dancing. Waltzing in his arms in some grand ballroom, one where he led and she gladly followed. Because she’d never danced like this. She’d never been really kissed until now.
She moved her hands up and around his neck. Surrendered. Let everything else fall away and finally began to live in the moment.
He kissed her again. Devastatingly light. One that promised more; it left her in . . . anticipation. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck and his lips left hers. She whimpered and tightened her hold. She didn’t want it to end so soon.
His knuckles ran down the side of her cheek. His lips trailed a patchwork of kisses along her jawline to her ear. He stopped. “I want to put my mouth on you everywhere. Kiss you where I haven’t touched you yet.”
Oh, yes, she wanted that, too. Desperately. She wanted to touch him. And kiss him from head to toe.
His teeth nipped at her earlobe. Suckled on it. A pinprick of electricity raced through her body, zapping her in delicious shockwaves. He kissed the side of her neck, licked the pulse racing there. Placed his lips at the hollow of her throat, traced a circle with his tongue followed by another soft kiss. Kisses back up to her mouth.
This time his kiss wasn’t soft or tender. It was fire. His lips demanded and urged her mouth to open further. His tongue slipped inside, teasing her. When he retreated, she followed him, tasting him in return.
He cupped her face tenderly, even though his kiss was nothing of the sort. It made her feel delicate and strong all at once.
His kisses made her hear music. Not the Christmas music that played from the speakers. Deep, dark rhythmic pounding, and the sound of chimes and footsteps.
Footsteps? Why did she hear footsteps?
So tell me . . . what do you think matters in kissing?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elyssa Patrick is a former high school English teacher who left the classroom to write fun, sexy, and emotional contemporary romances. Besides being slightly addicted to chocolate, she loves cupcakes, classic movies, and Shakespeare. She is a member of RWA. Elyssa lives in New York, where she is currently working on her next novel.
Website: http://elyssapatrick.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @elyssapatrick
To me, the best part of finalling in the Golden Heart was the amazing women I met on our finalist’s loop. I’ve sucked yet another one in to guest blogging. She’s lovely and witty, please welcome Ashlyn Macnamara talking about something we alllll do when reading or watching a good story with (or maybe missing) kissing!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like most writers, I came to writing through reading—but not, perhaps, in quite the same way. I read, and when I couldn’t get enough of an unfinished series, I turned to reading fanfiction, which led to me writing fanfiction. Eventually it led me to writing my own original characters.
But what, you ask, does that have to do with kissing?
Simple. Like a lot of fanfic writers, I started because of kissing, or more accurately, a lack thereof.
I got my start writing Harry Potter fanfiction, and much of what was being written during what became known as the thee-year summer between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix was romantic in nature. I think it became obvious to fans of the series that the kissing would come along eventually, even if romance wasn’t a focus of the books the way it is in Twilight. Only by book four, some readers were becoming impatient.
By then, it was becoming clear something was going on between Ron and Hermione, even if they’d both rather die than admit it—or Ron would. They didn’t manage a kiss until the final chapters of the final book.
But Harry Potter fans, impatient for the tension to play itself out, envisioned their own scenarios as to how the fateful moment would come about, and they turned those scenarios into scenes and novel-length stories.
Not that the fanfic authors stuck to pairings that were strictly canon. Some paired Harry and Hermione. When Luna Lovegood showed up in the fifth book, people wrote stories featuring her and Harry. Others paired Harry off with Ron—or even his seeming enemy Draco.
I always put Harry with Ginny, because that’s where I thought the series was headed. Other fans, less than enchanted with the final pairings, turned to fanfiction to get their fix of their favorite couples.
What can a writer take away from all this? That readers are voyeurs? Possibly. That we enjoy reading about that kind of thing, even in a series where romance isn’t the main focus? Yeah, I think you can say that. How about this: readers are sensitive to the various tensions between characters (whether or not the author intends romantic tension), and they look for pay-off. They anticipate. They savor it enough to write their own version if they have to.
So throw your readers a bone or two, I say. Give them the tension they crave, if not a full-out, on-screen lip-lock. Kissing doesn’t have to be the focus, but you can’t deny it adds spice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ashlyn Macnamara lives in the wilds of suburbia outside of Montreal with her husband and two teenage daughters. When not writing, she looks for other excuses to neglect the housework, among them knitting, reading, and wasting time on the Internet in the guise of doing research.
Her Regency romance A MOST SCANDALOUS PROPOSAL, will debut next February.
To me, the best part of finalling in the Golden Heart was the amazing women I met on our finalist’s loop. I’ve sucked yet another one in to guest blogging. She’s lovely and witty, please welcome Ashlyn Macnamara talking about something we alllll do when reading or watching a good story with (or maybe missing) kissing!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like most writers, I came to writing through reading—but not, perhaps, in quite the same way. I read, and when I couldn’t get enough of an unfinished series, I turned to reading fanfiction, which led to me writing fanfiction. Eventually it led me to writing my own original characters.
But what, you ask, does that have to do with kissing?
Simple. Like a lot of fanfic writers, I started because of kissing, or more accurately, a lack thereof.
I got my start writing Harry Potter fanfiction, and much of what was being written during what became known as the thee-year summer between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix was romantic in nature. I think it became obvious to fans of the series that the kissing would come along eventually, even if romance wasn’t a focus of the books the way it is in Twilight. Only by book four, some readers were becoming impatient.
By then, it was becoming clear something was going on between Ron and Hermione, even if they’d both rather die than admit it—or Ron would. They didn’t manage a kiss until the final chapters of the final book.
But Harry Potter fans, impatient for the tension to play itself out, envisioned their own scenarios as to how the fateful moment would come about, and they turned those scenarios into scenes and novel-length stories.
Not that the fanfic authors stuck to pairings that were strictly canon. Some paired Harry and Hermione. When Luna Lovegood showed up in the fifth book, people wrote stories featuring her and Harry. Others paired Harry off with Ron—or even his seeming enemy Draco.
I always put Harry with Ginny, because that’s where I thought the series was headed. Other fans, less than enchanted with the final pairings, turned to fanfiction to get their fix of their favorite couples.
What can a writer take away from all this? That readers are voyeurs? Possibly. That we enjoy reading about that kind of thing, even in a series where romance isn’t the main focus? Yeah, I think you can say that. How about this: readers are sensitive to the various tensions between characters (whether or not the author intends romantic tension), and they look for pay-off. They anticipate. They savor it enough to write their own version if they have to.
So throw your readers a bone or two, I say. Give them the tension they crave, if not a full-out, on-screen lip-lock. Kissing doesn’t have to be the focus, but you can’t deny it adds spice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ashlyn Macnamara lives in the wilds of suburbia outside of Montreal with her husband and two teenage daughters. When not writing, she looks for other excuses to neglect the housework, among them knitting, reading, and wasting time on the Internet in the guise of doing research.
Her Regency romance A MOST SCANDALOUS PROPOSAL, will debut next February.
Kristen Koster is one of those First Friends of Writing who you know you’re going to keep forever. She’s also got one of the best blogs on Regency Writing around. But today, she’s going to talk about kissing games. Get your bottles ready!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why is it every generation believes that they’re the first to discover kissing games? Spin the Bottle, Postman, Truth or Dare or even just playing a game of Tag, where the method of tagging is a kiss. These have been around for ages.
I have to admit, I was appalled to find my daughter and her friends playing Truth or Dare at a slumber party at our house two years ago. Oh, not so much that they were playing it… but that they were relying on an app to provide questions and dares. Have we lost all sense of imagination?
The truth is, when you put a bunch of hormonal youth together, you’re gonna get experimentation. It doesn’t matter when or where. Curiosity is gonna get the better of them, especially if there’s a lack of supervision (which leads to things like 7 Minutes in Heaven where anything goes) or possibly even more surprising, adult sanctioned activities that allowed youths to explore their sexual compatibility.
What?! Encouraged sexual exploration? I know Bria likes to keep this PG-13, but wait-a-minute… what on earth am I talking about here? Especially since the time period that I write in was 200 years ago and I know you’re thinking, “Weren’t they tight-laced, prim and proper goody-goody-two-shoes?”
Well, in 19th Century France, young couples would meet at their churches to practice “maraichinage” or what would come to be known as “French Kissing”. Couples would engage in some tongue dueling and their partners changed on a weekly basis. In some regions, this meant kissing behind parasols for some semi-privacy, but in others, the youths were forced to sit on opposite sides of narrow benches. In either case, this was a socially acceptable way to judge a potential spouse’s compatibility, or rather, it was until the clergymen banned the practice on the grounds that it was loveless and done only for the pleasure of kissing. Can you imagine?
In Regency England, things weren’t much different. Parlor games allowed a bit of naughtiness to creep into what we think of an as otherwise staid and proper society. In the game of “Blind Man’s Bluff”, one player sat in a chair and their identity had to be guessed by a blindfolded individual only by touching them. The game of “Guess the Kiss” was similar, only the blindfolded person was kissed and had to identify their kisser. I’ve seen a print possibly also from Le Bon Genre of an unknown game that looks an awful lot like a naughty version of Twister.
I can only imagine that many different cultures throughout time have had their own versions of kissing games as a way to size up their potential mates. There probably haven’t been as many variations on the basic themes as each generation would like to believe they’re responsible for inventing either. But we can hope imagination and common sense don’t become lost to future generations.
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Kristen Koster grew up totally left-brained and logical but always enjoyed right-brained and creative activities too. She started reading her mom’s stash of historical romance novels in the early 80s and never really stopped. Reading over 30 novels one summer in college convinced her she could do better. But life had other plans, including the introduction of her own hero to smooch. Twenty years into their HEA (after detours through some graduate work in Economics, a stint in online game design and wrangling two kids into their teenage years), she finally found her way back to writing Regency romance. One day, she might even get a novel published, if she can just stop over-analyzing everything. You can also find her on Twitter at @KristenKoster.
Kristen Koster is one of those First Friends of Writing who you know you’re going to keep forever. She’s also got one of the best blogs on Regency Writing around. But today, she’s going to talk about kissing games. Get your bottles ready!
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Why is it every generation believes that they’re the first to discover kissing games? Spin the Bottle, Postman, Truth or Dare or even just playing a game of Tag, where the method of tagging is a kiss. These have been around for ages.
I have to admit, I was appalled to find my daughter and her friends playing Truth or Dare at a slumber party at our house two years ago. Oh, not so much that they were playing it… but that they were relying on an app to provide questions and dares. Have we lost all sense of imagination?
The truth is, when you put a bunch of hormonal youth together, you’re gonna get experimentation. It doesn’t matter when or where. Curiosity is gonna get the better of them, especially if there’s a lack of supervision (which leads to things like 7 Minutes in Heaven where anything goes) or possibly even more surprising, adult sanctioned activities that allowed youths to explore their sexual compatibility.
What?! Encouraged sexual exploration? I know Bria likes to keep this PG-13, but wait-a-minute… what on earth am I talking about here? Especially since the time period that I write in was 200 years ago and I know you’re thinking, “Weren’t they tight-laced, prim and proper goody-goody-two-shoes?”
Well, in 19th Century France, young couples would meet at their churches to practice “maraichinage” or what would come to be known as “French Kissing”. Couples would engage in some tongue dueling and their partners changed on a weekly basis. In some regions, this meant kissing behind parasols for some semi-privacy, but in others, the youths were forced to sit on opposite sides of narrow benches. In either case, this was a socially acceptable way to judge a potential spouse’s compatibility, or rather, it was until the clergymen banned the practice on the grounds that it was loveless and done only for the pleasure of kissing. Can you imagine?
In Regency England, things weren’t much different. Parlor games allowed a bit of naughtiness to creep into what we think of an as otherwise staid and proper society. In the game of “Blind Man’s Bluff”, one player sat in a chair and their identity had to be guessed by a blindfolded individual only by touching them. The game of “Guess the Kiss” was similar, only the blindfolded person was kissed and had to identify their kisser. I’ve seen a print possibly also from Le Bon Genre of an unknown game that looks an awful lot like a naughty version of Twister.
I can only imagine that many different cultures throughout time have had their own versions of kissing games as a way to size up their potential mates. There probably haven’t been as many variations on the basic themes as each generation would like to believe they’re responsible for inventing either. But we can hope imagination and common sense don’t become lost to future generations.
- -
Kristen Koster grew up totally left-brained and logical but always enjoyed right-brained and creative activities too. She started reading her mom’s stash of historical romance novels in the early 80s and never really stopped. Reading over 30 novels one summer in college convinced her she could do better. But life had other plans, including the introduction of her own hero to smooch. Twenty years into their HEA (after detours through some graduate work in Economics, a stint in online game design and wrangling two kids into their teenage years), she finally found her way back to writing Regency romance. One day, she might even get a novel published, if she can just stop over-analyzing everything. You can also find her on Twitter at @KristenKoster.
There are two types of scenes people always seem to tell me are “hot” in my books – The Kissy ones and the Kiss-Off ones.
To that end, we’re going to have a little KISS / KISS-OFF throw down and YOU get to be the judges!
Here’s how it’s going to work:
I’ll be running a contest to get us to the Best Kissing Scenes (@briaquinlan and #TeamKissy). At the same time Valerie Cole (@valeriefm80 and #TeamKissOff) will be running the Best Kiss-Off Scene contest on her blog.
And then, we’ll go head-to-head. Now, on to the rules!
All times are BST (Bria Standard Time, which is currently EST)
WEEK ONE:
FRIDAY 8/31, 9am: Contest opens. Contestants enter the first 250 words of their scene. Anyone with more than 250 words will find their last sentence magically ending in the middle.
SUNDAY 9/2, 7pm: All entries must be in. If there are more than 50, the first 50 are in! Remember, Entries are anonymous. No names. No titles. No genres. No pimping yourself – honor system at work.
MONDAY, 9/3, 10am VOTING STARTS! Anyone can vote. You can pimp the contest, you just can’t pimp your entries
WEDNESDAY, 9/5, 7pm: VOTING CLOSES The Top 5 move forward – Yes, you read that right. Five.
EACH WEEK AFTER
SUNDAY, 9/9 7pm: Entries with ONE Additional sentence must be posted to the comments section. It’s a deadline. Don’t miss it.
VOTING SCHEDULE remains the same.
Comments may be used, but they must be HELPFUL, POLITE, TACTFUL feedback
Each week, one person will be voted off the island
FINAL ROUND
SUNDAY, 9/30, 7PM: Top 2 #TeamKissy entries must be posted
Agency Sister Monica BW is hosting the head-to-head featuring the top 2 #TeamKissy entries and the top 2 #TeamKissOff entries
Max final word count is 1,500
The KISS-OFF contest is running a little differently. Check it out HERE.
BUT, WHAT DO YOU WIN???
This is a truly amazing, awesome, super-dooper prize.
The winner gets The Laird!
Okay, you can’t keep her or all of us would come hunt you down.
But, if your manuscript is complete, our Awesome Agent Lauren Macleod will do a critique of the first 20 pages of your manuscript. If it’s not ready to go, she’ll do a 20 minutes phone call answering general publishing questions.
INORITE? Seriously awesome prize.
OTHER RANDOM RULES:
YOU WILL BE DISFALIFIED IF YOU ENGAGE IN ANY FLAME’ISH
Today another dear friend is stopping by to talk about kissing. With all this kissing going on, we might all need some ChapStick!!!
Welcome the super-fun Abby Mumford to the blog to share some of her favorite kissing scenes 
(An Aside: Tomorrow @ValerieFM80 & I announce the contest rules and the PRIZE! Check back.)
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What is there to say about kissing? Well, a lot, really, but since I keep that part of my life off the interwebs, I’m going to tackle the act of writing about kissing. As a writer who’s still learning the craft, I’ve made it my goal to read as many kissing scenes as possible. It’s all in the name of research, of course.
There are the super hot, super perfect, super blow your mind scenes, like this one from YOURS TO KEEP by Shannon Stacey (who always writes about kissing with all the passion it deserves (and then some)):
When his face got close enough so she registered his intent, she raised her gaze to his, but it was too late. Before she could react, his lips met hers, his hand still on her back to hold her close, and she closed her eyes.
Practice. That’s all it was. And if her body started tingling and her fingers itched to run through his hair, and her body wanted to melt against his…well, that just boded well for a month of pretending they were into each other, didn’t it?
The jolt of heat that ran like an electrical shock through her body could be an unwelcome complication, but she’d worry about that later…
Then there’s the seemingly more innocent, but still just as potent scene from IT’S IN HIS KISS by Caitie Quinn:
Before I knew what he meant to do, or could argue with him about the pity kiss, his lips brushed mine. And then they took mine. And then I lost track of time… maybe even days…or years.
It wasn’t so much that it made me remember past kisses. It was more like it made me forget every other kiss I’d ever had.
And on the other hand, there’s the kiss that is startling in its starkness from THE SCORPIO RACES by Maggie Stiefvater:
Puck unfolds her arms just enough to keep her balance as she leans to me, and when we kiss, she closes her eyes.
She draws back and looks into my face. I have not moved, and she barely has, but the world feels strange beneath me.
The delightful thing about kissing (well, okay, just one of the delightful things) is that each one is specific to the couple. It’s a grand way to learn about the characters, get to know their situations, read into their motivations, and have a helluva lotta fun while doing so.
Bring on more research!
Today another dear friend is stopping by to talk about kissing. With all this kissing going on, we might all need some ChapStick!!!
Welcome the super-fun Abby Mumford to the blog to share some of her favorite kissing scenes 
(An Aside: Tomorrow @ValerieFM80 & I announce the contest rules and the PRIZE! Check back.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is there to say about kissing? Well, a lot, really, but since I keep that part of my life off the interwebs, I’m going to tackle the act of writing about kissing. As a writer who’s still learning the craft, I’ve made it my goal to read as many kissing scenes as possible. It’s all in the name of research, of course.
There are the super hot, super perfect, super blow your mind scenes, like this one from YOURS TO KEEP by Shannon Stacey (who always writes about kissing with all the passion it deserves (and then some)):
When his face got close enough so she registered his intent, she raised her gaze to his, but it was too late. Before she could react, his lips met hers, his hand still on her back to hold her close, and she closed her eyes.
Practice. That’s all it was. And if her body started tingling and her fingers itched to run through his hair, and her body wanted to melt against his…well, that just boded well for a month of pretending they were into each other, didn’t it?
The jolt of heat that ran like an electrical shock through her body could be an unwelcome complication, but she’d worry about that later…
Then there’s the seemingly more innocent, but still just as potent scene from IT’S IN HIS KISS by Caitie Quinn:
Before I knew what he meant to do, or could argue with him about the pity kiss, his lips brushed mine. And then they took mine. And then I lost track of time… maybe even days…or years.
It wasn’t so much that it made me remember past kisses. It was more like it made me forget every other kiss I’d ever had.
And on the other hand, there’s the kiss that is startling in its starkness from THE SCORPIO RACES by Maggie Stiefvater:
Puck unfolds her arms just enough to keep her balance as she leans to me, and when we kiss, she closes her eyes.
She draws back and looks into my face. I have not moved, and she barely has, but the world feels strange beneath me.
The delightful thing about kissing (well, okay, just one of the delightful things) is that each one is specific to the couple. It’s a grand way to learn about the characters, get to know their situations, read into their motivations, and have a helluva lotta fun while doing so.
Bring on more research!
welcome back!! can’t wait to see what you have in store for us.
THANKS! I wish things happened fast and easy