Favorite Kiss — Day Five

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Howdy!
Well, this is the final day of our excerpts of our favorite kiss. Let’s have a look first, however, at yesterday’s excerpts. The first excerpt, which was not only inspiring, but so well written that it brought a smile to my face — “that can never happen again…” Yeah, right… Okay, did you guess Mary Connelly? If so you are very, very right.

 

 

And for the next favorite kiss excerpt. Did you guess Charlene Sands? Ah, you are doing so very, very well. Charlene is one of those author’s whose word useage is a little like poetry, isn’t it? Okay now it may seem apparent that Pam Crooks and Pat Potter are the only two fillies left to share their favorite kissing scenes with you. And while this is true, you still have to guess which one is theirs. Are you ready? Here’s the next filly favorite kiss.

“Bathe with me, Elena,” he whispered. He sucked gently against the curve of her neck. “Then make love to me.”

Her breath caught at his bold proposition, and she trembled again. “I can’t.”

“I want you.” He dragged his teeth slowly along her jaw. Licked and tasted her wet skin. “You have any idea how much?”

“Jeb.” She’d kept her arms between them, but now, they unfolded and moved to his chest, her palms tentative against him, as if she wanted to snake her arms around his neck but held back before she did. “Please.”

“Please what? Please make love to me, Jeb? Please strip me naked and get in the water with me, Jeb?” he taunted in a husky whisper.

She pressed her lips together. But her eyes closed, and she angled her head, giving him freedom to nuzzle her some more.

“What do you want, Elena?” Persistent, his hands rubbed down her spine, spread to cup her buttocks in his palms. He pressed her against him, let her feel how hard he was for her. “Tell me.”

A sound of distress escaped her, and her arms lifted hesitantly to his shoulders. Still, she held back, and he marveled at her self-control when his own was disintegrating like smoke in the wind. He dragged hot kisses over her cheek, her cheekbone, the corner of her eye.

He tasted the salt of a single tear snared in her lashes, and he knew, then, he was moving too fast. Ramon de la Vega had tromped upon her womanly needs with his violence and buried them so deep he made her afraid to feel them again.

Afraid.

Jeb swore inwardly and reined in tight his own needs. Elena had been through hell. He had to remember that. He had to give her the time she needed to heal.

Damn it, he intended to see that she did. A beautiful, vibrant woman like Elena needed a man to pleasure her senseless until she felt so utterly female she would forget that horrible hell she once lived.

Jeb took her mouth with his in a gentle but persistent assault of kisses. They would be the beginning, his kisses. To break through the barriers of apprehension and resistance until she couldn’t deny she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

His hands slid back up her spine and circled her tight. She rose up on tiptoe, letting him hold her, kiss her over and over. She molded to him, her lips moving, seeking. Wet.

His blood burned hotter. He didn’t know how long he could keep his restraints in place with all she made him feel. He groaned, low and not a little frustrated, then pulled back, fisting his hand into the soap-clean tangles of her hair. ”

Isn’t that wonderfully hot? I think I might need a cold shower. I’m away from home right now, and…

And now for our final filly favorite kiss.

Okay, did you guess? Try to guess before I post the answer, okay?

And here’s our last, but not least, famous kiss: ###

I had a problem here. My favorite kiss runs ten pages.
It comes from “Notorious.” The hero and heroine are both in their forties and both misfits. He’s a cynical gunfighter who wins a saloon in San Francisco and sees it as a chance for redemption. She’s a former child prostitute who owns the saloon next door and has no intention sharing the clientele. They declare war, including her having him shanghaied.
Here’s the beginning of their first kiss:
“Their voices had lowered into little more than husky whispers. The air in the closed carriage was sparking, hissing, cracking. Threatening to ignite. His hand moved to her arm, his fingers running up and down it in slow, caressingly sensuous trails.
“The heat surrounding them was as intense as that in the heart of a volcano. Intense and violent. She wondered very briefly if this was a version of hell. She had just decided it was when he bent toward her, his lips brushing over hers.
” And heaven and hell collided. . .
“The kiss had been as inevitable as day following night.
“Marsh had known it from the moment he saw her in the Glory Hole.
“The only way in hell to get her out of his system was this, and he was deadly determined to accomplish it. He’d hoped that the fireworks which constantly surrounded them would prove to be nothing more than a brief flurry of sound and fury. He hoped Shakespeare would forgive him for his literary liberties, but the diversion helped in reestablishing some kind of equilibrium.
“Until his lips touched hers.
“He hadn’t really known what to expect. Ice that would cool the damned heat burning him inside out? Emptiness that would swallow his unexpected and disturbing need?
“But there was no ice, No emptiness.
“She was as unwilling a participant as he in the damnable attraction, the veritable hurricane of desire that engulfed them. It was explosive, filled with the hot expectancy of a pending lethal storm. Her lips, at first reluctant, wary, suddenly yielded, yet he knew she wasn’t surrendering. Instead, he suspected, their mutual astonishment stunned her into a certain acceptance. He wanted to explore, to taste, to test. Even savor the currents of hot pleasure that surged through him.
“He felt her arms go around him, just as his had wrapped her tightly against him. Gingerly at first. Even reluctantly, but inevitably, as if some force propelled her against her will. He felt every movement in her body, every quiver, every stiffening awareness as his own arousal pressed into her. How long had it been since he’d felt this alive? Had he ever felt like this before . . . even before war, and hate and revenge had robbed him of feeling??”
“A low moan rumbled through his body as, unaccountably, his mouth gentled in a way it hadn’t since long, long ago. It was new, so new, so enticing, this very odd tenderness. He didn’t understand where it came from, where it had been lurking to emerge at this damnably inconvenient time. Still, it was . . . pleasant. More than pleasant as their lips explored this strange new sensation.
“Her mouth opened hesitantly under his lips, greeting him with an unexpected longing that he felt straight through to his core, and his tongue ran knowingly over the sensitive crevices of her mouth. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze moving to her eyes, and he was almost lost in the smoldering green of them, even as he sensed the hostility that was still there.”

And it goes on.

###
Did you guess Pam Crooks for the first kiss? If so, you are very, very clever.

And did you guess Pat Potter for the second filly favorite kiss? You did? I applaude you!

And now, in case you didn’t catch it from my first post, there will be a prize awarded for one lucky person who tried guessing at our exciting scenes of passionate kissing. However, instead of having to have guessed correctly each and every time, I am going to place all you who have participated every day into a hat and draw out the lucky winner.

I want to thank each and every one of you for participating in our favorite kisses. More later after we’ve had the drawing. In the meantime, I wish you passionate, soul-stirring kisses.

The Ballad of Ten Fillies

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Welcome to our front porch!  Come on over, put your feet up and sit a spell while we tell you a story….

THE BALLAD OF TEN FILLIES   written by Kate Bridges

Ten pretty gals rode in one day

Their legend was heard for miles away

With Miss Pam as their founder, they forged their town

A place for their stories, to write them all down

Some worked in the library, local paper, saloon

The church, the ranches, some wrote by the moon

With quills in hand and heroes to test

Romantic writers of the Wild West

They were known as the Fillies and word soon spread

Their tales about love, sacrifice and villains to dread

By the swish of a petticoat and glint of a gun

At Wildflower Junction they’re all for one

They comfort their animals, share coffee with friends

They nurture their children and dance with their men

With quills in hand and heroes to test

Romantic writers of the Wild West

Miss Pam, Cheryl, Linda and Pat

Always put out a welcome mat

Miss Mary, Elizabeth, Stacey and Karen

Weaving their tales, sometimes funny or quite daring

Miss Charlene, Kate, and Felicia with her charm

The fastest penslingers to give outlaws alarm

With quills in hand and heroes to test

Romantic writers of the Wild West

*     *     *     *

Hope you enjoyed the poem! I’m proud to be a part of Petticoats and Pistols for all the fun and entertainment it provides us, the writers, hopefully as well as you, our friends and readers.

Thank you to everyone who’s dropped by this week to help us celebrate our first anniversary and how far we’ve come. We couldn’t have done any of this without YOU! The number of visitors we get each day continues to amaze us. To our surprise and delight, several of our blogs have been picked up by the media, such as USA TODAY, Reuters and the Chicago Sun Times. Which just goes to show, you never know who’s reading!

How did you first discover our website–who told you about it?  And what elements of Petticoats and Pistols do you enjoy the most? Do you visit any other pages on the site, or do you usually stick to the current day’s blog?

http://www.katebridges.com

Favorite Kiss — Day Four

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Howdy to all you Western Romance Lovers!

 

Well, here we are on day four of our author’s favorite kiss.  Let’s go over yesterday’s post first, though, shall we?  

 

Did you guess me, Karen Kay, for the first favorite kiss?  If so, you are entirely right.  This kiss was inspired by the first kiss I received from my husband-to-be, way back in 1996.  We were married shortly after that kiss.  : )  It was soul stirring and had me “waking up,” wondering, “who is this man?”  Needless to say we’ve been married now for 12 years.

          


And the second favorite kiss?  Did you guess Cheryl St. John?  If you did, you are entirely correct.  A more intensely written, suck-you-in, gotta-read-more kiss you may not find. 

 

And now for today’s excerpts.  We have some more soul-wrenching, hot, hot scenes for you today!  So cuddle up and read on.

 

 

 

            Grant heaved a sigh of despair. “They’ll never leave my family alone.” He turned to face Hannah. “They were this mad after yesterday and yesterday there was no trouble. Just wait until one of your students goes home crying because Sadie beat him in a spelling bee. That bunch will be back.”

            Grant noticed Hannah’s hands were trembling as she crossed her arms.

“I can’t believe they let me off as easily as they did. I thought I was done for from the minute they showed up because I was going to quit before I let them drive your children out of the school.”

            “Don’t sacrifice your job, Hannah.” Grant put his hat on with a rough jerk of the brim and turned to go. “I don’t expect you to do that for me.”

            “I wouldn’t cross the street for you, you idiot.” She grabbed his arm and spun him around.

She only managed to manhandle him because he was turning back toward her anyway in surprise. Grant had one split second after she exploded, to marvel at how well she’d kept her cool with that posse of orphan haters. Then she attacked.

            “If you think I’d side with that mean-spirited, selfish bunch of vigilantes over your children. You don’t—”

            Grant held up both hands to ward her off. “Look, Hannah, I didn’t mean—”

            Hannah grabbed the lapels of his flannel shirt. “—have any idea who I am. Why, if you think—”

            “It’s not that. I didn’t say—” Grant backed up a step.  

Hannah followed him all the way to the wall. “—I’ll stand by and let Sadie get thrown out of school because of the color of her skin—”

            “I’m sorry. Really, Hannah. I wasn’t suggesting—” Grant, caught her hands where they were shaking his collar. She seemed determined to strangle him to death.

            She tightened her grip. “—or slam the door in the face—”

            Grant stopped trying to placate her and leaned over her, “Listen, I didn’t mean to imply you had anything against orphans. If you’ll—”

            “—of any child—”

            All his tension uncoiled like a striking rattler. “—just shut up for a second—” He pulled her hands off his throat.

            She yanked away from his grip. “—orphan or not—”

            “I’ve got a lot more to lose here than you.” He just needed her to shut up for a minute so he could tell her how much he appreciated her standing by him, and how sorry he was she had to face down a mob, and how annoying she was, and how pretty, and sweet.

“—who wants to learn—”

He turned her around and trapped her. “—and let me apologize, I’ll—”

            She turned her face up, her eyes flashed with fire and spirit, her cheeks flushed. “—then you’re the most insulting man I’ve ever—”

He couldn’t think of any other way to close her yapping mouth.

He kissed her.

            It worked.

She shut up.

            He jumped back so fast he tripped over a desk. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

            “You shouldn’t have done that.” Hannah covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, watching him like he’d grown rattles and fangs and attacked her.

            Grant shook his head and felt his brain rattle, so maybe he was close to growing the fangs and he was very much afraid he might attack her again.

            Hannah ran her tongue over her lips as if she wanted to wash the taste of him away. Or just taste him. “That can’t ever happen again!”

            “That can never happen again.” Grant couldn’t back farther because of the desk. That’s the only possible reason he went forward instead. And kissed her again.

 

#

 

I love this scene.  And now for the next favorite kiss: 

He held her carefully, without menace or threat, and she went willingly to him, allowing him the liberty of brushing her body to his, finding his gentle strength thrilling.

 

A half smile on his lips brought her attention to his mouth, and when she looked at him, he searched her face for a moment, their eyes locking. Hidden against the dark side of the barn, where moonlight seemed to have vanished, Clint dropped his hands lower, his fingers splaying wide, making circles on the small of her back, sending magnificent shivers spiraling through her body.

 

 “You like the feel of that, honey?”

 

His voice flowed out like smooth silk. Tess swallowed and stood still, wanting his touch but fearing it, too. He moved his hands farther down, to the very tips of her derriere, stirring her senses and creating havoc inside. Her breaths came rapidly and her emotions rocked out of control. “You know what I want to do.”

 

Silk again, smooth and edged with promise. “Clint,” she said, meant as a warning, but his name came out a breathless whisper.

 

He smiled right before he cupped her head with one hand and drew her lips to his.  Their mouths mated and she reeled from the initial contact. Every nerve ending tingled with pleasure. Sure and confidently, he moved his mouth over hers but with enough gentleness to assure her freedom. It was her decision to make, but ultimately it was not.

 

She couldn’t deny the impact of his kiss or the flutters inside from being claimed by this man. He stroked her lips with the tip of his tongue, outlining their shape, then plunged deeper into her mouth, until small pleasured sounds escaped her throat. Their tongues mated, causing rapid-fire heat to shoot through to her woman’s center.  A tiny ache built between her legs, and she felt unfulfilled and needy, a sensation altogether new to Tess.

 

She cupped Clint’s face now, responding to his passion and stroking him the way he did her returning his kisses with equal enthusiasm. He held her firmly and she arched her back allowing him access to her throat. He drizzled kisses there, wetting her skin and catching the coolness of the outside air. Her senses spiraling out of control, she barely felt the sash to her robe coming undone. It hung now from her shoulders exposing her chemise.  “I’ve seen you without this robe, Tess. I want to see you again.”

 

#

 

Hot!  Hot!  And a beautiful useage of words, I think.  It’s a little like hot poetry, don’t you think?  Do you know who wrote it?  Well, come on in and let’s talk about it.

Dancing Naked on the Table

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A question I’m often asked is how long I’ve been writing and how I got started. The subject seems to fascinate non-writers. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t write. As a child I wrote stories and drew covers for them. When I was fourteen, I submitted a romantic short story to Redbook Magazine. I still have that form rejection. My next project was a book that took about a year off and on to complete. It was rejected, too.

After that I wrote sporadically, but not seriously. I married, had four babies, and didn’t get back to writing with a purpose until my youngest went to first grade. I started in the fall and wrote a book from beginning to end that school year. My mom and dad both read it. It was set during the forties, so they even helped with first-hand research. Trust me when I say this book deserved rejection. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. No plot, only external conflict. It was a story only a mother could love.

But I wrote more stories. A couple of contemporaries and then an ambitious 500 page historical set in Pennsylvania Dutch country. That was when I joined an RWA group started by a lovely Southern lady. The late Diane Wicker-Davis was the first published writer and “expert in the field” to ever read my work and give me feedback. She crossed out page after page with big red Xs and the words “nothing happening” in the margins. She did this critique on a holiday. In her precious spare time. Her honest opinion took the air out of my sails for weeks. And then I loved her for it. I still love her for it. She took time to explain the most basic things to me and to encourage me that I had a talent worth investing time and energy in. That book was HEAVEN CAN WAIT. I took her advice, rewrote it twice, and eventually it went on a shelf.

I dug into learning. My RWA chapter has always been a teaching chapter, and I learned so much from others and the great books we studied together. I’m a firm believer that what goes around comes around in our lifetime, and I’ve made it a point to share whatever I may have learned and to always encourage hopeful writers.

I’d improved and grown tremendously by the time I started a spin-off. I got an agent and RAIN SHADOW was my first sale. My editor looked at HEAVEN CAN WAIT and told me if I’d cut 100 pages, she would buy it, too, so that book made it to print in the end.

Exposing your writing that very first time can be an extremely difficult experience. You want desperately to know whether or not you can do this, but you’re terrified to learn that you can’t. You’ve poured your heart and soul into a project that, once it’s shared, will undoubtedly expose a very private, very vulnerable part of you.

We Fillies are as diverse in our personal stories as we are in our fiction. Sharing stories about our experiences is always fun and helps us to know each other better. To celebrate our first year as Official Fillies, I asked everyone to disclose a personal experience. I enjoyed their replies and I know you will too.

Here’s the request:

Share about the first time someone read something you’d written.

And here are the responses:

Charlene Sands:

“The first person I ever told I was writing a book was my husband. He’s not a reader at all, and doesn’t ever read my books … well maybe one time. But I’d never find a more supportive encouraging soul who constantly has faith in me and believes in my talent. When I’d get rejected, he’d say, “They just don’t know what’s good.”

“I’m finding it not so unusual that I didn’t tell anyone about my writing, I see others kept quiet about their writing as well. For me, I didn’t want the pressure of friends and family asking me if I’d sold a book yet. I was venturing into scary new territory and didn’t know what I was in for. I wanted the freedom to learn and yearn without being scrutinized. I remember feeling, and I still feel like I hit the jackpot finding my passion and purpose in life. At times, I sympathize with those who haven’t experienced the thrilling excitement, chilling fear and challenge I face everyday at the computer.

“When I felt confident about my writing, I showed my dearest friend, childhood buddy, and maid of honor in my wedding, Allyson, my work. It was my first proposal to Harlequin, and she read the chapters and kept asking for more. I knew I could trust her with what was near and dear to my heart. She’s not a writer, but a reader of all genres and she LOVED the character I’d created in Lily from my story Lily Gets Her Man. Her encouragement helped me finish that story. It was our secret and Lord knows we’ve had many over the years. When Lily sold, she was the next person I called after telling my husband. She sent me a gorgeous “lily” bouquet and I’ll never forget her words of encouragement and support.”

Patricia Potter:

“I’m a former newspaper writer and have been writing in print since I was sixteen. So writing a novel should be no sweat, right? Wrong in spades. I jumped into fiction late. My mindset was who, what, where and why. Just the facts, ma’am. I was comfortable as an observer.

“An author, particularly of romance novels, is not an observer. She/he cannot be an observer. They have to be a participant. They have to pour themselves into a book, which, of course, makes it highly personal. You expose yourself in ways you’ve never done before. Your emotions, your hopes, your failures, your periods of grief. When you write a book, it’s not just an object. It’s part of you, and rejection is a rejection of yourself.

“So when I wrote my first book, I did it in a closet. I told no one. I wrote it because I had an idea that wouldn’t stop haunting me, and I really had no intention or expectation of publishing. But when I finished it, I thought maybe I should try to do something with this. But I was terrified to let anyone view the places and parts of me that no one knew. I had no idea whether it was any good or not, whether the idea and characters would attract anyone but me. Then I heard of Romance Writers of America. I joined the local chapter because I heard there was a contest. Wow!. A way to have someone read my manuscript anonymously. No one knew me. I didn’t know anyone. I wouldn’t be humiliated in front of friends and family.

“To my shock, it won second place. Those judges became my friends and helped me along the rest of the way. I met the editor who bought my book at the next local conference. Both are reasons, I will always love Romance Writers of America.”

Elizabeth Lane:

“I can’t remember a time when I haven’t shared my writing. As a very little girl I used to write poetry. It was pretty bad but it was funny. My Grandpa used to read my poems to his buddies at the pool hall. I was a minor celebrity (hey it was a small town). When I started writing seriously in my mid-thirties I belonged to a local writer’s group. We’d all read our stuff out loud. Some of the writers were already publishing. My efforts were well received and gave me the encouragement I needed to go on.”

Stacey Kayne

“The first person I confided to about my writing aspirations was my mother. When I realized I was trying to write a book, I asked her bring me a bunch of the books she read *G*. Since she was reader, I asked if she’d look at something I’d started, and admitted I was trying to write a romance novel.

She agreed, and showed up at my door the next day in tears, and said, ” I didn’t know you could write like Danielle Steele!!” She has been my biggest supporter. When I was too shy to attend my first writer’s club meetings, she went with me to The California Writer’s Club and Romance Writer’s of America. And now that I’m published, she hasn’t missed a book signing!”

Karen Kay:

“The first time I ever let someone read something I’d written was in high school. We all wrote a story anonymously, and then the entire sophomore class voted on which story they liked best. Mine was a science fiction story — that’s all I remember about it now. Anyway, it came in 2nd place. I remember being shocked that anyone else might like something that I wrote. It did encourage me, and I went on to write other stories, but it was this that really made me think about writing as a possible career.”
As regards romance stories, the first story I ever wrote and let someone read was again a science fiction story, but with a strong romance. It was a short story. I let my ex read it, and his only comment was that there were too many sentences starting with “But”. No other comment or praise was ever given. At the time, it hurt and I never let him read my work again. However, as time has gone on, I have realized that not everyone knows instinctively how to critique a work so that one doesn’t kill the person’s creativity outright. It’s really a sort of art form. That understanding would have done much then. But it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is that my husband of 12 years, my darling Paul, loves my writing and is one of my biggest fans and supporters.”

Pam Crooks:

“Well, does the first time in letting someone ‘read’ what I wrote equate to the first time ‘reading’ what I wrote out loud?

“I didn’t get the courage to let anyone read my work until I’d joined a critique group and worked up a degree of confidence–or should I say courage?!–to let someone read my manuscript.

“I wrote in supreme secrecy for years until I joined my local chapter, whose president invited me to join her critique group. I was incredibly honored–and terrified. But that first morning of critique convinced me I was where I needed, and wanted, to be. That critique group contained one of the Fillies–Cheryl! Before I began to read, they warned me it was “like dancing naked on the table.” And oh, they were right!! I was so scared to read that my hands literally shook, and I had to pause mid-way through my reading to take a drink of water. But I got through it, and if it was nauseatingly awful, no one had the heart to tell me so. In fact, they were all quite kind. I kept going and going until I was good enough to lead my own critique group. And I’ve been doing so for what? 18 years now?

“But if you’re looking for that first someone to read my manuscript, it was my mother. She was the one who handed me my first romance, FLAME AND THE FLOWER, so she knew I was hooked on them. I think she knew, too, that I was writing one, and when I finally gave her this behemoth of a manuscript, she read the whole thing and told me she really liked it. When we started talking about this and that in the book, I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice, and the pride, too. It meant so much to me. I guess if you can’t trust your mother, who can you trust, eh? :-)”

Mary Connealy:

“It’s possible that the first time I ever let anyone read my writing was at a critique group gathering at Pam Crooks’s house. All I really remember is we were really short on time, and that Pam gave me some good advice about how to open a book. Other than that, not much came of it. First book I ever wrote.

“I was pretty reclusive about my work for a long time. I still love that book, although I have gained a lot of skill since then. It’s never been published but maybe someday.”

Linda Broday:

“I’ll never forget my first critique session. A group of writers met at an English teacher’s house here in town. I hadn’t been writing for very long and didn’t really know what to expect of critique. I wasn’t prepared for the devastating blow that came. One woman in particular seemed to take utter joy in ripping my story to shreds. She told me every single thing I was doing wrong in no uncertain terms. I left that meeting feeling lower than low. I didn’t see that I had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever being a writer. I was ready to quit. It took quite a while to regain my confidence. The only thing that kept me from giving up was my husband’s faith in me. He told me I could do anything I wanted to and no one except myself could ever stop me. I’m glad I listened to him and kept plugging away.

“I learned a valuable lesson that night. Whenever I critique another person’s work, I put myself in their shoes. I take extra pains to make my comments constructive and word them in such a way so as not to destroy their self-esteem. I’d hate to know I caused a writer to stop writing.”

Kate Bridges:

“My ninth-grade English teacher announced one day that she was going to read her favorite story from the ones we’d submitted. She didn’t say who wrote it–till the end–but as she started to read, I could feel my face turning really hot and my eyes watering. It was a short humorous story about me and my mom, and I never imagined anyone else would see it had any value. It did a lot for my confidence, especially when it got such a nice reaction from the rest of the class. That day opened my eyes to the possibility of being a writer. My teacher moved away after that year and we lost touch. I did dedicate one of my books to her, thinking maybe one day she would open it somewhere, and see herself being thanked.

“As for novel writing, I kept it all a big secret from everyone, including my husband. I started writing while on maternity leave with my newborn daughter. One day my husband came home, six months after I’d started writing, and asked how my day went. I finally blurted out that I was writing a novel. He dropped what he was doing, came over with a smile and a hug and said, “Wow.” He’s been my biggest supporter and always has something good to say about my writing. I know I’m lucky.”

Yee haw!

I hope you’ve enjoyed learning about the Fillies and their early days of writing. I know you’re as glad as I am that each of the Fillies pursued her dream, because now we can read stories by ten of the hottest authors writing western romances today!

In stores now: The Magic of Christmas

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Since this seems to be a week for kisses, I thought it would fit right in to announce the release of my October Christmas novella A BABY BLUE CHRISTMAS with a kiss teaser for you.  Look for it in stores near you!

 

Gabby furrowed her brow with a quizzical frown. “Will I still be here next week?”

Confident and capable were attributes he’d hang on her, but he’d caught her at a completely vulnerable moment. She needed to feel safe. He’d brought her here. He was responsible for setting her mind at ease. “Let’s say you’ll be here and make a plan.”

She raised her eyebrows in concern. “They don’t know what I am or who Willow is, do they, Turner?”

What she was? She was a caring unselfish person trying to do the best she knew how for two helpless children. “You’re a widow who was passin’ through and needed a place to stay.”

She searched his face as though hoping to find assurance. “And the truth is our secret?”

She made it sound clandestine, intimate…and he reacted to her words and trusting expression in a physical way that caught him off guard and delivered a sucker punch to his lungs.

Her gaze fell to his mouth.

Turner had to concentrate just to breathe again. When he did, her clean soap-and-talc scent washed over him.

“Our secret,” he agreed and the word made his body tingle. She’d raised her chin, and her lips were so near that he could…had he leaned over that far without intending to?

Turner lowered his mouth the last few inches and rested his lips against hers. Her surprised sigh fluttered against his mouth, sending sensory signals to his brain. He added slightly more pressure and tasted the sweetness of her sugary tea and the essence that was uniquely hers. For an endless moment there were no other distractions, no past, no future, and he was free to experience the softness of her lips and the pleasure of unhindered discovery.

It had been a long time since he’d felt anything so soft, since he’d experienced a sensation so pure and without a dark edge of pain. There was unexpected honesty in these fleeting moments.

The gentle touch of her fingertips against his cheek startled him. Embarrassed him. Brought reality into acute focus. He opened his eyes and drew away.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “Oh,” she said on a sigh and touched her fingers to her lips.

He hadn’t done anything that reckless for a long time. Maybe not ever. He’d guarded his heart so carefully. Turner backed away. “You won’t be of any use to those babies if you don’t take care of yourself. Go get some sleep.”

She watched him retreat, uncertainty in her eyes now. She nodded, set her cup aside and stood. “Yes.”

Without another word, she hurried from the room, the swish of her skirts loud in the silence.

He kept his gaze on the chair where she’d been.

No arguing, he had tender feelings for the woman. For her plight and that of the babies. He’d felt protective toward her from the first. Gabrielle and her tiny wards were ripping open wounds that had never properly healed. Being back in this house, being near her, smelling her, holding those babies…his defenses had been relentlessly bombarded. Now what was he to do?

The thought of anything happening to any of them was unbearable. Her obvious unhappiness and fearful uncertainty tore at his conscience.

Turner picked up her cup and looked at the dark liquid in the bottom. He had the power to do something about her situation. He’d been powerless over the things that had happened in his past, but he could do something about this.

Fierce determination rose inside of him.

He would do something about this.

Favorite Kiss — Day Three

by

Good Morning!

Are you ready for some more of those sizzling hot kissing scenes?  Let’s have a look at our scenes from yesterday.  Quote #1, which was very, very beautiful.  Did you guess Linda Broday?  If you did you are so very, very right.

And how about the second scene.  Wasn’t that hot?  Did you guess Kate Bridges?  Again, if you did, you are very right.

And not for our next kissing scene.  Are you ready?  Here we go:

#

“She should back away.  She tried to make herself do it; she couldn’t.  His head gradually descended toward her.  And her reaction?  She leaned in closer.

Then it happened.  His head came fully down to hers.  She didn’t even have a chance to think before all at once his lips crushed down on hers, and in that moment Genevieve thought her world might surely end.

It was a savage kiss…and yet it wasn’t.

Her stomach twisted in response to him; her limbs refused to move, and she couldn’t think to question why this man would be kissing her.

In truth, there were a thousand things she should have done, a hundred things she should have uttered.  She neither said nor did any of them.  Instead, she stepped in closer toward him, and if anything, he leaned farther down.

The kiss deepened, going from savage to sensual, and Genevieve became unable to think of anything else but those lips on her own, their feel, their warmth, ther…arrousal.  She responded in an odd way, too, as though she had known this man all her life, as though he were some titled gent, as though this man belonged to her and she had every right to–

He broke off the kiss, and Lady Genevieve stood still for a moment, not able to move, not able to produce one coherent thought.

She noted that somehow her hands had found their way onto his chest, that somehow she had drawn in even closer to him, that–

“You see,” he broke into her thoughts.  “I was right.  You are a woman of no honor.”

She could only stare at him for several moments, and it was a long time before she could speak, and then only uttering, “Oh!”

She backed up then, but her gaze never left him, and she wondered what she should do. She felt suddenly as though she should return the insult with cutting words of her own or, faililng that, at least shove him away.  But she did neither.

Glancing down, Lady Genevieve lifted the hem of her dressing gown.  Taking one step back, she pivoted away, fleeing the cabin in a fluidity of motion that would have rivaled the swift descent of a hawk, the swish of her dressing gown the only echo of her distress.

But one thought kept coming back to haunt her as she fled down the steamship’s corridor.  She had never been more excited in her life.”

#

Do you know who wrote this scene?  Is it?…

a)  Karen Kay

b)  Pam Crooks

c)  Charlene Sands

And here’s the second kiss scene.  Can you guess who authored this?

“You don’t know me and you don’t know about my life.”

            “I know something about self-denial and sacrifice,” he told her.

            She could only look at him.  Wonder what he spoke of.  Wonder why he cared what she did with her life.  He didn’t know anything about her or the things that had shaped her into the woman that stood before him.  His touch on her wrist radiated warmth along her arm and sparked an awakening fire that humiliated her.

            This time the look in his eyes was not amusement or curiosity.  He was looking at her with sensual awareness, with restless heat and keen longing that ripped the air from her lungs as though she’d been struck.

            She lost track of any coherent words she might have thought to say.  Her attention focused on his lips, parted now and shaped with a fascinating bow in the upper and tempting fullness in the lower.  Her heart chugged like a freight train climbing the Rockies, and her breath caught.

            In the seconds that followed, she wasn’t quite sure how she came to be standing in the circle of his arms or when he’d released her wrist and wrapped that arm around her shoulder to draw her close against him, but the next thing she knew they were locked in an embrace and she was kissing him back with all the longing and passion she’d buried for a lifetime.

            The kiss wasn’t wise, but it was real.  This feeling that exploded and took over her senses didn’t listen to caution, but blazed ahead and turned her bones to jelly.

            He was beautiful, this man.  Strong arms and hard chest, lips that delighted and aroused, and at that instant she would have given everything to cast the rest of the world aside and know only this man and this moment and never let go.

            Everything that had been asleep in her woke up at his bidding and pushed aside the tears she’d cried and the promises she’d made herself.  She’d made all the mistakes she was going to.  Wisdom was her ruling trait now.

            Seth kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of her, as though he didn’t need air as much as he needed to taste her.  At the velvety touch of his tongue against hers, she sighed and collapsed against him, but he easily absorbed her weight and held her fast.

            He threaded his fingers into her hair and she reached to grasp his jaw.  His rough chin and cheek were an exotic texture she explored until her palm tingled.

            From the outer room the grandfather clock chimed the hour in deep resonating tones, and the sound filtered into Marvel’s senses, awakening her to reality.  Time wasn’t her friend.

 Who is the author? Is it:

1) Karen Kay

2) Cheryl St. John

3) Pat Potter

Come on in and enter your opinion and let’s debate, shall we?

 

 

How Well Do You Know the Fillies … Answers

by

Here we go.  Answers in Wildflower Purple!

1. Which Filly writes in many different historical time periods, including China’s Boxer Rebellion, Scottish tales and Colonial America. She has also written short and long contemporary books as well as romantic suspense novels.

a.  Pat Potter

b.  Mary Conneally

c.  Charlene Sands

 2. Which Filly worked for years as a pediatric intensive care nurse and is interested in comedy script writing, but is best known for her westerns?

A.  Kate Bridges

B.   Mary Connealy

C.  Pam Crooks

3. Which Filly got her inspiration to write romance from such books as LaVryle Spencer’s Hummingbird and Lisa Gregory’s Rainbow Season, is an expert blogger and also lists questions authors hate to hear, with some pretty funny answers?

A.  Cheryl St. John

B.   Mary Connealy

C.  Elizabeth Lane

4, Which Filly tours extensively during the year to promote her terrific books and gives tips on writing and how to add more romance in your life on her website? 

a.  Linda Broday

b.  Karen Kay

c.  Cheryl St. John

5. Which Filly has traveled to such exotic places as Nepal and Panana and is quite a great belly dancer. She has written under the pen name of Lisa Lancaster?

a.  Elizabeth Lane

b.  Pat Potter

c.  Mary Connealy

6.  Which Filly is a die-hard country western music fan and teaches childbirth and baby care to pregnant mommies-to-be?

A.  Elizabeth Lane

B.  Stacey Kayne

C.  Charlene Sands

 7. Which award-winning Filly grew up watching westerns and always wanted the hero to ride off into the sunset, not alone, but with the woman that he loved?  She also shares writing tips with unusual names, such as Half-Baked Cake.

a.  Kate Bridges

b.  Linda Broday

c.  Pam Crooks

8, Which Filly lives on a ranch near the Sierra Nevada Mountains, began writing her dynamic westerns after taking an American History class and has been a Golden Heart Finalist?

a.  Karen Kay

b.  Charlene Sands

c.  Stacey Kayne

9.  Which Filly wrote her first book when she was twelve years old, has an infectious sense of humor, and has recently signed an eighteen book contract with Barbour?  (That’s 18 books!)

a.  Stacey  Kayne

b.  Pam Crooks

c.  Mary Connealy

10.  Which Filly had the great insight to develop the Petticoats and Pistols Blog, lives in the ranch country of Nebraska and has penned 11 wonderful westerns thus far?

a.  Cheryl St. John

b.  Pam Crooks

c.  Linda Broday

Half a Million Thanks to All of You!

by

Dear Readers and Friends,

Due to all of your wonderful support our Petticoats and Pistols site has received over half a million hits this year.

What great news for our first year anniversary celebration!

The Fillies extend their heartfelt thanks, at least half a million of them, to all of you who have stopped by to say hello, lend your comments, participate in our games and contests and most importantly have become our friends!

We’re at 532,000 and counting!!

Favorite Kiss — Day Two

by

Good Morning!

Are you ready for the results from yesterday’s post?  Okay, kissing scene #1.  Did you guess Elizabeth Lane?  If you did, you are so very, very right.  What a spellbinding scene.

 
And the hot, hot post #2.  If you guessed Stacey Kayne, again you are right!  After reading that scene, I needed to call my husband home.  : )

Okay, here is kissing scene number three:

 

A jagged flash revealed her ashen face. He’d already lost what he spent his whole life looking for. Sucking in what little air remained, he gathered her into his arms. Then she tilted her face. If anyone had said looking at someone through tears could form halos around their head, he’d have called them crazy fools. He kissed the sightless, stone-washed eyes. Then the tip of her nose. Despite his intent to stop there, he could not. A groan rumbled in his throat. Trembling under her spell, he teased the curved mouth with tiny flutters of his tongue before he feasted fully on the bounty.

This is a beautiful scene. Can you guess who wrote it? Is it…
a) Karen Kay

b) Cheryl St. John

c) Linda Broday

And here’s kissing scene #4:

 

 

“Keep the coat. There’s just one more thing.”

At the low timbre of his voice, her stomach dropped to her toes. He slid an arm behind her back and crushed her body to his, then his lips thundered down on hers.

He kissed as though he’d been caged for a year. Hungry and primal. He slid his large hand behind her duster and up the back of her blouse, resting it just above the waistband where every fiber in her body seemed to connect with his heat. With his other hand, he cupped her face, so tantalizing, such a soft caress in contrast to the firm embrace of her body.

She kissed him back. Perhaps it was she who’d been caged for a year. 

#

Another hot, hot scene. Can you guess who wrote it?1) Cheryl St. John

1) Cheryl St. John

2) Pam Crooks

3) Kate Bridges 

Hope you are enjoying these wonderful, wonderful scenes.  If you have your own favorite kissing scene to tell us about, please come on in and tell us about it.

 

How Well Do You Know The Fillies at Wildflower Junction?

by

It’s our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY and we thought it’d be fun to see how well you know the Fillies here at Wildflower Junction.  Simply read the question and then send us your answers in the Comment Section.  

Hint:  Most info can be found on their recent blogs or on their website. Happy Hunting!  

Ready?  Here goes …

1. Which Filly writes in many different historical time periods, including China’s Boxer Rebellion, Scottish tales and Colonial America. She has also written short and long contemporary books as well as romantic suspense novels.

a.  Pat Potter

b.  Mary Conneally

c.  Charlene Sands

 2. Which Filly worked for years as a pediatric intensive care nurse and is interested in comedy script writing, but is best known for her westerns?

A.  Kate Bridges

B.   Mary Connealy

C.  Pam Crooks

3. Which Filly got her inspiration to write romance from such books as LaVryle Spencer’s Hummingbird and Lisa Gregory’s Rainbow Season, is an expert blogger and also lists questions authors hate to hear, with some pretty funny answers?

A.  Cheryl St. John

B.   Mary Connealy

C.  Elizabeth Lane

4, Which Filly tours extensively during the year to promote her books and gives tips on writing and how to add more romance in your life on her website? 

a.  Linda Broday

b.  Karen Kay

c.  Cheryl St. John

5. Which Filly has traveled to such exotic places as Nepal and Panana and is quite a great belly dancer. She has written under the pen name of Lisa Lancaster?

a.  Elizabeth Lane

b.  Pat Potter

c.  Mary Connealy

6.  Which Filly is a die-hard country western music fan and teaches childbirth and baby care to pregnant mommies-to-be?

A.  Elizabeth Lane

B.  Stacey Kayne

C.  Charlene Sands

 7. Which award-winning Filly grew up watching westerns and always wanted the hero to ride off into the sunset, not alone, but with the woman that he loved?  She also shares writing tips with unusual names, such as Half-Baked Cake.

a.  Kate Bridges

b.  Linda Broday

c.  Pam Crooks

8, Which Filly lives on a ranch near the Sierra Nevada Mountains, began writing her dynamic westerns after taking an American History class and has been a Golden Heart Finalist?

a.  Karen Kay

b.  Charlene Sands

c.  Stacey Kayne

9.  Which Filly wrote her first book when she was twelve years old, has an infectious sense of humor, and has recently signed an eighteen book contract with Barbour?  (That’s 18 books!)

a.  Stacey  Kayne

b.  Pam Crooks

c.  Mary Connealy

10.  Which Filly had the great insight to develop the Petticoats and Pistols Blog, lives in the ranch country of Nebraska and has penned 11 wonderful westerns thus far?

a.  Cheryl St. John

b.  Pam Crooks

c.  Linda Broday

Post your answers in the comment section and see how well you did! 

Find your answers tomorrow!

HAVE FUN!!

Petticoats & Pistols