((Hey, I'm on a roll writing my June 2010 release, so I'm cheating and posting a blog I wrote and was published over at www.Everyoneneedsalittleromance.com.
Oh, by the way, it's sort of appropriate, my June release is titled, SHUT UP AND KISS ME.
First Kisses
Do you remember your first kiss? Ahh, I do. I’ve been hesitant to blog about it because it’s one of those . . . extraordinary memories. And by extraordinary, I don’t mean . . . Well, let me just tell you about it.
I was thirteen and spending the night at my grandparents. My uncle, who was only two years older than me, also had a friend staying the night. Ahh, he was a hottie as well as what I considered an older boy. Probably fourteen and a half! After everyone had gone to bed, I heard someone say my name at the door. He said he couldn’t sleep and wondered if I wanted to talk. Yup, we’d shared a bit of dialogue earlier along with a few long lingering stares, but neither of us wanted my uncle to know we were intrigued in each other.
After I crawled out of bed, and put on my jeans, we sought out a place to . . . chat. My grandparent’s house had this old rambling floor plan where the rooms were built on to the structure one by one, but it only had one bathroom. We sat on a sofa, in the room connected to the bathroom. It was the only room away from the bedrooms with sleeping family.
We sat there and chatted for a few moments and even though he appeared as unsure as I was, he leaned in, slowly, and his mouth touched mine. Boy howdie was I nervous when I felt his tongue brush across my bottom lip. All I could think was that my first kiss was going to include tongue. (Hey don’t you remember talking about this when you were 11 and 12?) I opened my mouth ever so slightly, because that’s what I’d heard I was supposed to do, and that’s when it happened. A hiccup exploded from my lips. Not a light, cute noise, either. Nope. It was one that came right from the gut, pounces from the lips, and bounces off the walls. I mean, here was my first kiss, with an “older boy” too, and I got the nervous hiccups. Thank goodness he was sweet and said it wasn’t a problem.
After a few minutes of chatting (well, he did most of the chatting, I was too scared to open my mouth for fear another obnoxious sound would bounce out) he tried again to kiss me. His mouth drew near, his lips touched mine, and this time, the noise that exploded into the room wasn’t my hiccup. Nope, it was my granddad clearing his throat. And I should add that, with the exception of his worn-out tighty-whities, Grandpa was naked and his old-man gut hung over the edge of the weak elastic of his Hanes.
Older boy and myself just sat there on that sofa and stared at my grandfather staring at us. I opened my mouth to say something smart, something like, we were just talking, or something else equally unconvincing since he’d just witnessed the beginning of a kiss, but all that came out was another LOUD hiccup. Cute, older boy, shot up from the sofa and ran back to his bed, and I did the same.
Yup, my first-kiss memory could have been a tad better. Thanks goodness I managed to snag a few better kisses later on. And in spite of the fact that I had a less-than-desirable first kiss experience, I do love writing first kisses.
Not that I make the first kiss all that easy on my characters. Below is an excerpt from GOTCHA! of Macy’s “almost” first kiss. Set up: Divorced and hurt, Macy is finished with men. But when an escaped convict, (Tanks) is after her, and a hot and stubborn cop, (Jake Baldwin) is determined to protect her, she finds herself feeling things she wishes she didn’t. She’ll use just about anything to push him away, even if it includes discussing tampons. (I mean, don’t we all know how much men love talking about feminine protection?)
“I know that wasn’t easy for you,” Baldwin said as he pulled into her drive. His silence had ended right after they got back from buying the tampons. A part of her felt guilty for teasing him.
“I’ll be okay,” she said.
She would be, too. Jake Baldwin had offered her a helping—if exasperating—hand for the last eighteen hours, but it was time for her to stand on her own. Besides, even Jake’s partner seemed to believe Tanks was halfway to Mexico by now. The car had hardly stopped in her drive when she jumped out. Feet on her driveway, she dipped down to look at him though the window. “Thanks for…everything.”
Jake looked over at her as if he didn’t want to leave. “There’s going to be a cop driving by here every few hours. You’ve got my number.” He pointed to her purse, where he’d put his card. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I won’t need anything,” she said, holding fast to the belief that Tanks was long gone.
He took a deep breath. “I want to help, Macy.”
“You did.” But all things must come to an end. And this is it. Sayonara. Adios.
The seriousness in his eyes changed to a teasing twinkle. “I want to do more. But if you start spouting off again about feminine protection, I’m out of here.”
She smiled. Their gazes met, held for one second. She really did respect him.
Two seconds. She could really like this guy. She already liked him.
Three seconds. Crappers. This wasn’t just PMS.
She couldn’t look away. His smile tugged her emotions and tangled them tightly around her heart.
Enough! She didn’t need to start counting on a man to make her feel better. Hadn’t everyone in her life proven this? Heaven help her, the cliff loomed way too close. Jake didn’t loom quite close enough.
“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he suggested. “Somewhere nice. I could—”
“Nope.” She slammed the car door and stepped back, expecting him to drive off. Instead, he cut the engine, got out, and started around the car toward her.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
She took a backward step and held up her hand. “Yes, I am.”
He kept coming at her, like a man who knew what he wanted and planned on getting it. The way his masculine form swaggered closer brought more emotions banging around her heart. Her lungs: she couldn’t breathe. Her brain: she couldn’t think. Nerve endings throughout her body responded to his smile.
She started walking backwards around the car and, swallowing, forced herself to speak. “What are you doing? Um…if I gave the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in any—”
“Liar.”
He stopped when he was almost on top of her, and she had the craziest feeling he might actually try for a kiss. All sorts of mental voices were screaming Run, but part of her wanted this, craved it. Needed it.
“Seriously, I don’t…”
He looked into her eyes, and she could have sworn he saw things she’d never intended another man to see. That she was a woman hungry for a man’s touch. A woman aching to lean on someone. A…
A woman just like her dear ol’ mom. “I mean, if you got the impression—”
He brushed a finger over her lips. “The impression I get is of a girl who’s scared. One who can be very difficult to put up with. But I think you’re worth it, and I think—” His attention shifted over her left shoulder and his face went stone cold. She tried to turn and see what had brought on the change, but he caught her by the arm.
“Get back in the car.”
“What?”
He pulled out his gun. “Get back in the car. Don’t argue.”
He pushed her behind him, yanked his phone out of his front pocket, snapped it open, and hit a button. “This is Baldwin. I’m at 417 Jackson Street. I’m going to need backup.”
Yup, poor Macy’s almost-first kiss with Jake gets interrupted when . . . when some crap hits the fan, but hey, at least I didn’t give her hiccups or have an almost-naked relative show up.
So what about you guys? Do you remember your first kiss? Come on, let’s share a little, I told you my story.
CC
Do you remember your first kiss? Ahh, I do. I’ve been hesitant to blog about it because it’s one of those . . . extraordinary memories. And by extraordinary, I don’t mean . . . Well, let me just tell you about it.
I was thirteen and spending the night at my grandparents. My uncle, who was only two years older than me, also had a friend staying the night. Ahh, he was a hottie as well as what I considered an older boy. Probably fourteen and a half! After everyone had gone to bed, I heard someone say my name at the door. He said he couldn’t sleep and wondered if I wanted to talk. Yup, we’d shared a bit of dialogue earlier along with a few long lingering stares, but neither of us wanted my uncle to know we were intrigued in each other.
After I crawled out of bed, and put on my jeans, we sought out a place to . . . chat. My grandparent’s house had this old rambling floor plan where the rooms were built on to the structure one by one, but it only had one bathroom. We sat on a sofa, in the room connected to the bathroom. It was the only room away from the bedrooms with sleeping family.
We sat there and chatted for a few moments and even though he appeared as unsure as I was, he leaned in, slowly, and his mouth touched mine. Boy howdie was I nervous when I felt his tongue brush across my bottom lip. All I could think was that my first kiss was going to include tongue. (Hey don’t you remember talking about this when you were 11 and 12?) I opened my mouth ever so slightly, because that’s what I’d heard I was supposed to do, and that’s when it happened. A hiccup exploded from my lips. Not a light, cute noise, either. Nope. It was one that came right from the gut, pounces from the lips, and bounces off the walls. I mean, here was my first kiss, with an “older boy” too, and I got the nervous hiccups. Thank goodness he was sweet and said it wasn’t a problem.
After a few minutes of chatting (well, he did most of the chatting, I was too scared to open my mouth for fear another obnoxious sound would bounce out) he tried again to kiss me. His mouth drew near, his lips touched mine, and this time, the noise that exploded into the room wasn’t my hiccup. Nope, it was my granddad clearing his throat. And I should add that, with the exception of his worn-out tighty-whities, Grandpa was naked and his old-man gut hung over the edge of the weak elastic of his Hanes.
Older boy and myself just sat there on that sofa and stared at my grandfather staring at us. I opened my mouth to say something smart, something like, we were just talking, or something else equally unconvincing since he’d just witnessed the beginning of a kiss, but all that came out was another LOUD hiccup. Cute, older boy, shot up from the sofa and ran back to his bed, and I did the same.
Yup, my first-kiss memory could have been a tad better. Thanks goodness I managed to snag a few better kisses later on. And in spite of the fact that I had a less-than-desirable first kiss experience, I do love writing first kisses.
Not that I make the first kiss all that easy on my characters. Below is an excerpt from GOTCHA! of Macy’s “almost” first kiss. Set up: Divorced and hurt, Macy is finished with men. But when an escaped convict, (Tanks) is after her, and a hot and stubborn cop, (Jake Baldwin) is determined to protect her, she finds herself feeling things she wishes she didn’t. She’ll use just about anything to push him away, even if it includes discussing tampons. (I mean, don’t we all know how much men love talking about feminine protection?)
“I know that wasn’t easy for you,” Baldwin said as he pulled into her drive. His silence had ended right after they got back from buying the tampons. A part of her felt guilty for teasing him.
“I’ll be okay,” she said.
She would be, too. Jake Baldwin had offered her a helping—if exasperating—hand for the last eighteen hours, but it was time for her to stand on her own. Besides, even Jake’s partner seemed to believe Tanks was halfway to Mexico by now. The car had hardly stopped in her drive when she jumped out. Feet on her driveway, she dipped down to look at him though the window. “Thanks for…everything.”
Jake looked over at her as if he didn’t want to leave. “There’s going to be a cop driving by here every few hours. You’ve got my number.” He pointed to her purse, where he’d put his card. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I won’t need anything,” she said, holding fast to the belief that Tanks was long gone.
He took a deep breath. “I want to help, Macy.”
“You did.” But all things must come to an end. And this is it. Sayonara. Adios.
The seriousness in his eyes changed to a teasing twinkle. “I want to do more. But if you start spouting off again about feminine protection, I’m out of here.”
She smiled. Their gazes met, held for one second. She really did respect him.
Two seconds. She could really like this guy. She already liked him.
Three seconds. Crappers. This wasn’t just PMS.
She couldn’t look away. His smile tugged her emotions and tangled them tightly around her heart.
Enough! She didn’t need to start counting on a man to make her feel better. Hadn’t everyone in her life proven this? Heaven help her, the cliff loomed way too close. Jake didn’t loom quite close enough.
“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he suggested. “Somewhere nice. I could—”
“Nope.” She slammed the car door and stepped back, expecting him to drive off. Instead, he cut the engine, got out, and started around the car toward her.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
She took a backward step and held up her hand. “Yes, I am.”
He kept coming at her, like a man who knew what he wanted and planned on getting it. The way his masculine form swaggered closer brought more emotions banging around her heart. Her lungs: she couldn’t breathe. Her brain: she couldn’t think. Nerve endings throughout her body responded to his smile.
She started walking backwards around the car and, swallowing, forced herself to speak. “What are you doing? Um…if I gave the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in any—”
“Liar.”
He stopped when he was almost on top of her, and she had the craziest feeling he might actually try for a kiss. All sorts of mental voices were screaming Run, but part of her wanted this, craved it. Needed it.
“Seriously, I don’t…”
He looked into her eyes, and she could have sworn he saw things she’d never intended another man to see. That she was a woman hungry for a man’s touch. A woman aching to lean on someone. A…
A woman just like her dear ol’ mom. “I mean, if you got the impression—”
He brushed a finger over her lips. “The impression I get is of a girl who’s scared. One who can be very difficult to put up with. But I think you’re worth it, and I think—” His attention shifted over her left shoulder and his face went stone cold. She tried to turn and see what had brought on the change, but he caught her by the arm.
“Get back in the car.”
“What?”
He pulled out his gun. “Get back in the car. Don’t argue.”
He pushed her behind him, yanked his phone out of his front pocket, snapped it open, and hit a button. “This is Baldwin. I’m at 417 Jackson Street. I’m going to need backup.”
Yup, poor Macy’s almost-first kiss with Jake gets interrupted when . . . when some crap hits the fan, but hey, at least I didn’t give her hiccups or have an almost-naked relative show up.
So what about you guys? Do you remember your first kiss? Come on, let’s share a little, I told you my story.
CC
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2 comments:
I remember my first kiss. It's kind of a wistful memory because I don't remember being all that impressed with the whole other tongue in my mouth thing, but the circumstances of the kiss and after make it sweeter.
I was about 9 and he was my best friend up until I was 5 and we moved from the neighborhood. We were back for a party and his sister dared us to kiss (she was probably 12 and still liked to dream that we would end up sisters if I married her brother).
It was awkward to say the least -- in his closet the first go around and then we had to kiss in front of her because she didn't believe we'd done it.
No one caught us or anything like that. I don't think I really saw him again until I was 13 and he moved to our school district. We were never able to reconnect, though, and he died a year later in a car accident.
Sometimes I wonder what could have happened. We had lots of fun when we were 5.
Becky,
Ahh, what a story. Funny how remembering things takes us back and most of the time makes us ask, "What If...?"
Thanks so much for stopping in.
CC
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