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February 16, 2013



For the next four days (Thursday through Sunday) we'll be posting first kisses here on the Plotting Princesses blog. Come back each day, read these wonderful little vignettes and leave a comment.

Why should you leave a comment? Ah, now that's the best present of all. Every person commenting between Valentine's Day and Sunday, 02/17/2013 at midnight EST will be entered in our Sweetheart's contest. The Prize: A brand new NOOK! Yes, you read that right. We'll be giving away a Nook SimpleTouch with GlowLight including a beautiful pink cover, to one lucky person who leaves a comment. That means every single day you have a chance to enter—just by reading the blog post and commenting.

What's sweeter than chocolate at Valentine's Day? A new e-reader so you can read about love, romance, and hope all year long. (Contest is open to U.S. Residents only.)

(Elizabeth Essex)

His low voice was full of a strange sort of gentle, exasperated wonder, and he was regarding her through those dangerous, soot-dipped lashes, with such minute attention, as if she looked as strange and foreign as he. As if she were the map of a place he had forgotten he had visited.

“You’ve dirt,” he murmured, as he smudged something off her skin, “on your face. And you’ve done something to your hair to make it darker and duller. Such a crime. And you are still attiring yourself in that horrid gray. Always gray. But somehow, despite all that, you look so lovely, I have the strongest urge to kiss you.”

That way lay madness. Or at the very least, bad, bad, regrettable decisions.
She squelched it all down—the vanity and whatever unmet longing was attempting to stir itself back to life. “I beg you would suppress it.”

“No.” He shook his head again even as he gave her his one-sided smile, and the corner of his mouth hitched into a single lovely, bittersweet dimple. “I think not. I think I’ve come a deuced long way to find you, and I’ve done with polite, English caution.”

Yet, he took her face in his hands cautiously, slowly and carefully, in the way a man raised a too-full glass to his lips, bringing his mouth to hers. Even as she told herself she should not—she should push him away, and run as fast as she could in the other direction and not stop until she had reached the ocean—she let him come nearer and nearer. She watched, her eyes open wide, searching his face, helpless with the need to reconcile this handsome Englishman with her memories.

The first touch of his lips was soft, almost tentative, as if he, too, were tasting and comparing. As if he, too, were feeling his way across the passage of time and miles. She prayed fervently for a moment that she might be spared, that she might feel nothing for him, that her well of frustrated longing for him might have finally run dry.

But his lips were still the texture of ripe fruit, smooth and taut, and tasting of plums. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes closed, and took in a deep breath, as if he could take her in. As if she was as necessary to him as air.

In response, her own mouth dropped open, parched and thirsty, longing foolishly—so foolishly—for another taste of him. And like a dying woman in a desert who will drink even the deadliest brine, she took another sip, pressing her lips to his.

He slanted his mouth across hers and kissed her more deeply, searching her out, pushing his hands into the tight constriction she had made of her hair, pulling apart the low fist of the bun, scattering pins into the ground. And she was falling or melting, or going somewhere far, far away, dissolving into nothingness, and everything-ness, all at the same time. With his thumbs fanned along her cheeks and his big hands wrapped around the back of her head, drawing her into him, he kissed her with heat and abandon, drawing her out with lips and tongue, and with the very breath from his body, as if she were the very water that fed his tired, dusty soul.

Heard It Through the Grapevine (Lizabeth Lipperman)

Crushing her against his body, Colt pressed his mouth to hers, a guttural moan escaping as his heart pounded in his chest. His tongue first traced the outline of her lips, then forced them open, sending shock waves through his entire body. He felt her shiver in response.

Every logical reason why he should walk away popped into his brain. Every argument why this shouldn’t happen assaulted his senses, the unnerving voice in his head screaming Lainey could never be just another woman.

That scared the hell out of him. But when she moaned softly in his arms, his brain cried “uncle”. She smelled so damn good, like flowers on a windy day. Tasted so damn good, as he possessed her with his mouth.

For the Love of Hades (Sasha Summers)

The catch in her voice moved Hades, forcing his eyes to hers. Under her gaze, he felt something dangerous shift inside him. He felt vulnerable. He felt lonely. He should feel nothing. “You owe me nothing.”

He saw her swallow, heard her whisper, “I do not mind… Truly.”

Her eyes held him. His body responded even as confusion plagued him once more. What did she want from him? Why did she torment him so?

Her fingers were cool upon his forehead, soft as silk. Her wrist, the inside of her arm, was lightly fragrant.

She moved suddenly, swaying, pressing the curves of her chest against him. He shuddered, completely unprepared for the touch of her full lips upon his.

By the Fates, she was warm and lush.

He could not bear it. But he must. His hands fisted, denying the urge to pull her to him. He closed his eyes. He would not catch her hair in his hands, or clasp her curves to him. His hands throbbed, clenched tightly.

But his lips would not be denied. They fitted to hers briefly, hungrily tasting her.

How she threatened his control, enticing him mercilessly. He could not give in to this temptation.

Hell Week (Phyllis Middleton)

“She’s my woman.” JC tucked Mistry behind him and took a defensive stance, raising a finger in Butch’s direction. “Touch her and I’ll take you out.”

“Prove it.” Butch countered. “Prove she’s yours.”

J.C. spun to her, grabbed by the waist and pulled her tight against him. He whispered in her ear. “Play along if you want to stay alive.”

Breathless, she could only nod. But she play along with what? Mistry’s first impulse was to push him away, except his warning filtered through her mind.

The night air was chilly, but his body radiated heat. She drew closer to his warmth and the scent of him triggered a response of longing inside her. He looked down at her, his face showing her gentleness. His lips were on hers. His tongue stroked her lips, demanding entrance. Her mouth opened and his tongue swept in to tangle with hers. Her gut twitched in response. Heat coursed through her, settling deep. His tongue steadily stroked, coaxing hers into play, imitating what she wanted from him. She arched into him and it felt so natural, so right.

Still something wasn’t true. She tried to grab onto thoughts racing through her head. Her career... her friends... what was she doing? A vision flashed in her mind of her turning in her badge, disgraced, but instantly replaced with her lying on top of his naked body. Oh, God, it felt right. And she needed more. More of him. Her hands roamed across his chest aching to touch bare skin. This was no longer a game to deceive his fellow bikers. Mistry knew he wanted her too.

A moan of surrender escaped just loud enough for only him to hear. She pushed closer to him, struggling to find that special place that would satisfy her need.

J.C.’s hand grabbed her thigh, lifting and pulling her into the spot she hunted. His hard-on pressed against her abdomen, and moisture pooled. She was more than ready for him. She wanted him to take her right then and there.

Unexpectedly, he pulled away, his breath heaving. His attitude switched back to biker. The intense connection between them broken, she staggered back. The kiss and his touch were gone, leaving her unfulfilled. Leaving her cold again.

What the hell?

“Satisfied?” J.C. said.

No, I want more. But through her daze, she knew he was speaking to the biker.

Remember to come back every day through midnight Sunday, read about the first kisses of some amazing characters, and post a comment to be eligible. The more times you come back, the more chances you'll have to be the proud new owner of a NOOK SimpleTouch GlowLight with case.


Anonymous said...

I remember my first kiss like is was yesterday…behind the BIG tree on the playground…in the first grade.

Vicki Batman, sassy writer said...

Hi, Lisa! Thanks for posting on the PP. And sharing your story. So very cute! Come back often.

Jody Settles said...

Ii remember my first kiss and after 30 years we're still friends. The best first kisses came from my husband of 13 years and my 2 little girls <3

Unknown said...

I've never had my first kiss! :) I'll keep waiting for that special day.

Conda Douglas said...

Okay, more great excerpts, I now am filling up my bookshelf with some hot new reads!

And I remember my first kiss, on my 16th birthday! There's a part of me that will love my first boyfriend forever.

Charlotte Henley Babb said...

From Maven's Fractured Fairy Tales, "Bubba and the Beast." (spoiler alert)

"Kiss me, you witch!" the frog/prince said, and swept me off my large butt and long webbed feet with his strong, if short, green arms.

Ever been French-kissed by a frog?

I remembered how long since I had been kissed, held in a passionate embrace, since I made a wish.

I forgot Griz and Bubba. I forgot magic.

I forgot: Fiona eats romance novels for supper.

When we came up for air, not something frogs have to do often, it felt like dawn for a breathless prince and a dizzy fairy godmother.

He wrapped his cape around me, offering to take me home--his or mine. On the table beside us was my wand, restored.

Unknown said...

My first real love Hubby of 10 years, I flew up to the UK to visit him, I was stationed in Italy, when we met at Gatwick, he had just gotten off work , he was a postman, and my first thought, was, "OMG! his butt is smaller than mine!" We had met on, and spent months talking/texting so, this was our first real meet and his hands shook when he kissed for me, that day and that kiss will always be my first kiss....thank you for this, bringing back wonderful memories....

Unknown said...

I'm late to the party, but I wanted that thank everyone for stopping by to read our excerpts!

And wow, everyone has fab first kiss stories! I love it!

Kathleen Baldwin said...

What a line:
... he took her face in his hands cautiously, slowly and carefully, in the way a man raised a too-full glass to his lips...

Wow! great imagery

Unknown said...

Aww. Thank you, Kathleen. :)

That's from SCANDAL IN THE NIGHT, coming in July.

I can't wait!

Eva's Flowers said...

I remember my first one was around 3rd grade, he proclaimed to everyone that he was going to kiss me at recess and I didn't want him to, so when recess came I ran but he followed and sure enough he did:)


Unknown said...


Sometimes persistence is not a virtue. Especially in 3rd grade. :)

Thanks for stopping by to share your story!

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