Sudden Kisses

By Lisabet Sarai

When Judy and Marianne sent us instructions for their great Valentine's blog fest, they suggested we post here at the Party Pavilion about a kiss. "Share the build up," they said. "Let the readers see how the characters move toward one another, then maybe end with a brief excerpt."

I like this idea; the only problem is that my most recent release starts with a kiss (a mistletoe kiss, to be specific) that sets the tone for the entire story.

Suzanne has returned to her native New England for her old friend Helena's annual holiday party. She's been living in California and working much too hard as the CEO of her own high tech company. She feels awkward and out-of-place after so many years away. Then out of the blue, someone sweeps her into his arms and captures her mouth - someone who turns out to be not a stranger at all, but a man she's known since they were both teenagers.

Here are the opening paragraphs from Almost Home:

****

The kiss caught her off guard.

One moment Suzanne was standing in the doorway to Helena’s den, scanning the occupants and wondering if she knew anyone at all at this party. The next moment someone twirled her around and fastened a pair of firm lips on hers. Out of instinct or habit, she closed her eyes. The darkness heightened her other senses. Powerful arms circled her body and pulled her against a fuzzy male chest. Her partner’s scent rose around her, a complex mix of soap and musk, evergreen and wood smoke. His tongue teased the seam where her lips met and she let him enter, her self-protective reflexes dulled by his warmth and the glass of merlot she’d downed on her arrival. His mouth tasted of eggnog and candy canes, appropriately seasonal. He was delicious, in fact—not just his mouth but the quiet confidence of his probing tongue, the sculpted muscle she felt under his sweater, his bold hands wandering across her back to her buttocks. She hadn’t enjoyed a kiss like this in a long time.

She’d felt chilled and tense ever since her plane touched down in frigid Boston but now her muscles began to unknot. He was a miniature sun, melting her, turning her languid and dreamy. She clutched at his solid form and returned his kiss, trading heat for heat. Tropical colours paraded behind her eyelids—fuschia, lime, peach, and aqua—shimmering like the water in her pool back home. She even began to perspire, her long-sleeved velvet dress suddenly too warm for comfort.

****

Happy Valentine's Day to all! Drop by my website for lots of free stories, including an original myth about the origin of the holiday. (Note that most of the excerpts and tales on my site are at least R-rated.)

Oh, and I'm giving away a free copy of Almost Home. But you'll have to go visit the Whipped Cream blog and read my posts in order to find out how you can win!