Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine's Day Kisses

First kisses. Is there anything more romantic than the first time you kissed the one you love? In celebration of those momentous first kisses, I'm posting excerpts from my three published novels that feature my main characters' first liplocks.

The first two are sweet, but the last one will possibly melt your Valentine's candy!


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Mickey stood and pulled Jeana to her feet beside him. Even in the dark, she could see the deep blue of his eyes when she looked up at him, and she felt his fingers brush her cheek as he pushed the hair away from her face.

“I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he said.

“You should always go for what you want, Mickey.”

He clasped his hands at the small of her back and pulled her closer, and she realized his heart was beating as fast as her own. He leaned slowly toward her, and she watched the blue brilliance of his eyes gradually disappear under his eyelids. When his lips touched hers and she tasted the sublime sweetness of his mouth, she wondered how she had ever lived without his kiss and how she would survive when he let her go.

She had never felt so aware of every cell in her body as she did while in Mickey’s arms, and she marveled at how right it felt to be there, as if she had just come home from a long journey. She was where she belonged, and she never wanted to leave. The hero from her fantasies had a face at last, and she knew she would see it in her dreams for the rest of her life.

When their lips parted, he held her face in his hands. “Tell me you’re mine, Jeana.”

“I’ve always been yours, Mickey. I just didn’t know it until now.”


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Jess had noticed Lee immediately, of course, but she hadn’t met him until he came back to class after his knee injury and she offered to help him catch up on the work he’d missed. The first time they met at the library, she had commented on a letter to his parents and sister that she noticed on the first page of his notebook.

“I write to them every week,” he said without a trace of self-consciousness. “And I call home every Sunday when the rates go down.”

“You must be really close to them,” Jess said. “I think that’s great. I wish I were closer to my family.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty tight. My dad’s the greatest guy I’ve ever known, and my mom and my little sister think I came here from the planet Krypton.”

Jess laughed. “Were they at the game when you hurt your knee?”

His face sobered. “No, my dad had to work that weekend, thank God. They know I got hurt, but I told them it was just a minor sprain. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell them the truth—that I can’t play anymore. Football’s the only thing I can do.”

Jess didn’t know him well enough to disagree, but her intuition told her there was more to him than just muscles. “Then what are you doing in a journalism class? Have you done any writing before?”

He shrugged. “I wrote a few sports articles for the school newspaper. My friends liked them, and my English teacher said they were decent. Since I had to choose a major for college, I picked journalism, but I never really expected to do anything but play football. I should probably just go back home and get a job at the power plant where my dad works.” He slapped the notebook shut and looked at his bandaged knee in disgust.

“You should at least get an unbiased opinion of your writing before you give up,” she said. “Do you have any samples I can read?”

He looked at her intently. “Yeah, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind, really. But I should probably warn you that I’m extremely critical and brutally honest when it comes to writing.”

He pretended to chew his fingernails. “I’m not sure I’ve got the guts for something like that. You’re pretty scary.”

She nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah, I always heard baseball players are a lot tougher than football players. I guess it’s true.”

“Baseball players can kiss my ass.” He reached into his bag and took out another notebook. “Here’s a story I wrote about the state championship game we played my senior year. Do your worst, scary lady.”

She read it with her eyes gradually widening at how good it was. His mechanics were weak, but he had an unpretentious style and an engaging voice filled with genuine emotion that came through in his words, and Jess was truly impressed. When she looked up at him and saw how anxiously he awaited her appraisal, she knew the story she held in her hands was much more than just words on paper that he’d produced on a whimsy. She was holding the key to this particular pretty boy’s heart, and she decided to open it and see what was inside.

“Lee, I don’t even like football, but this story made me feel all the excitement you must have felt after winning the championship game. You’re a natural writer in the rawest of states, and if I ever hear you say anything again about quitting and going home, I’ll kick you in your other knee.”

His face was transformed by the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. Before she realized what he meant to do, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. By that time in her life, Jess had kissed plenty of boys—a few of them had even been somewhat of a local legend because of their aptitude in the lip-lock department—but never had she felt anything like the sensory tsunami that came with Lee’s kiss.

And before it ended, Jess had decided that she didn’t want to simply look inside this pretty boy’s heart. She wanted it to be her home for the rest of her life.


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Jaycee saw a police car pull up to the curb on the far side of the park and watched two cops get out and scan the crowd, clearly looking for someone. They’d spot Bud any second if she didn’t do something, and she’d be damned if she was gonna let this self-centered asshole screw up her life.

“Listen, Bud.” She put her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “I’ll help you find your car if you come over here in the grass with me for a little while, okay? We’ll have some fun while we listen to the music. What do you say?”

He looked down at her and grinned. “Okay, Jaycee Stevens. Bet you thought I’d forget your name, but I didn’t.”

She led him over to the shadows where the other couples were making out and got him to sit on the ground beside her. The cops were crossing the park toward the fountain, so she put her arms around Bud’s neck again and pulled him down with her as she lay back on the grass.

“I knew you wanted me,” he said. “I could see it in your eyes at the party.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Bud.”

He didn’t have to be told that twice. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue filled her mouth with the taste of whiskey. His fingers tangled painfully in her hair, and she found it difficult to breathe with him lying on top of her. She was disgusted by his arrogance and his obvious lack of self-control, and she couldn’t believe how low she’d had to sink. And despite all those things, kissing him was still the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

She forgot about the cops and the baseball team and the crowd, lost in the ecstasy of his mouth. She’d thought she’d been aroused when he’d watched her dance at the party, but that was nothing compared to the way her body was reacting to him now. She despised the hateful clothes keeping them apart and wanted to tear at them until they were both naked and his skin was next to hers. Her hands longed to explore that magnificent body of his while he discovered her own most sensitive places.

God help her, she wanted Bud Stanton more than she’d ever wanted anything.

~Stay true to yourself, and your dreams will come true!