Here's whats happening. I have posted 4 batches of First Kisses from some wonderful authors. With each batch, you have the chance to add another entry to WIN a $35 GC, a $10 GC, and books, books, books! This is a real romance lover's dream. Check out these prizes!
Here are the official rules:
Answer the question after each kiss in the comments below (comments will be screened) for a chance to win a $35 GC and a bundle of ebooks, plus a runners up prize of a $10 GC! Every set of five questions you answer correctly gives you another entry to the draw. Good luck - and enjoy those kisses! Excerpts are predominately m/m, but include some m/f and menage - we proudly swing all ways. And remember to check out MORE kisses and chances to WIN at my co-host Kay Berrisford's website. Go there and answer her questions as soon as you finish these.
Ready to Kiss? Don't forget to leave your email!!!!
Email your answers to me at tara at taralain dot com! After Jan 1st, do not leave comments on the blog. Please email them to me!
Excerpt one: Beach Balls by Tara Lain
The waves pounded, birdies chirped, gulls squawked, breezes blew, sun set. Funny. He barely paid attention to these things normally. But right now they seemed a part of Sky. Like his curls were one with the wind, and his eyes, a part of the darkening horizon.
Oh boy, he better take a poetry class. What the hell did this guy do to him?
Sky looked at him. Adam could feel the heat of his gaze. He turned toward the angel face. Sky’s lips were barely parted. Full and wet. He was so beautiful.
He leaned toward Adam. Yes, please. Adam closed the rest of the distance. Their lips touched.
Soft. Very soft. What did he expect from angel lips? An even softer tongue caressed his mouth, then pushed inside. Oh shit. Sweet velvet.
Sky scooted closer and wrapped those long fingers of his around Adam’s cheek. The tongue got more demanding, pressing deep. Every soft caress kicked sparks directly to his cock. He heard himself moan. More. God, more.
Sky pushed Adam back. He let go, hit the sand, and the long body came down on top of him. Hard chest to hard chest. Hard cock to hard cock. Heat and fire. Damn. His hips pushed up, and Sky pressed down on Adam’s throbbing erection. Felt so good. He wrapped his arms tight around that impossibly lean, muscled back.
QUESTION ONE: What kind of class does Adam think he should take?
Excerpt two: Bound to the Beast by Kay Berrisford
Tam wriggled but couldn’t break free. Herne clamped his wrists, holding them fast. Nausea rolled though Tam. Was this part of a trap laid by Calleagh and her sisters? Before God, he’d heard enough of the wiles of fairy folk, and Herne possessed the strength to rip his limbs off and see his blood drain for the foul spirits of Niogaerst. Or would Herne impale him on those frightful antlers? Maybe that had been Calleagh’s true sport all along.
Desperation cracked his voice. “I’m the one who’s been tricked. Yes, that’s it, tricked! Please. Let me go, sir.”
Herne tilted his head, confusion passing over his hard features. “Do I…know you?”
The relentless emerald flames pressed them closer, Herne’s tightening grip prompting so many fuddling sensations that words failed him. His mind demanded he kick the beast in his balls and make a run for it, but once again his body refused to obey. He stared up at Herne’s smoldering eyes, his skin weather-beaten and browned yet marked only by the finest of lines. A further revelation struck.
Now I understand the true meaning of beauty.
Herne growled, pulled Tam to him so their bodies pressed flush, and smoothed his thumb along the line of Tam’s cheekbone. Tam flinched as if he’d been branded with an iron, yet the contact sent blood coursing through his veins and rushing straight to his loins.
When Herne’s mouth claimed his, Tam yearned to be dominated, to be consumed in his flames like a helpless moth. He parted his lips, letting Herne devour him, balling his fists into the leather of Herne’s surcoat to urge him on, and relishing the scrape of Herne’s coarse beard against his chin. Herne tasted of herbs and the verdant depths of the forest. Amid the rage of life, Tam sensed also the stillness of rock, the brute strength of ages, and savage, tearing pain.
He kissed back, his tongue slick against Herne’s, letting the passion of their union quash the remnants of his alarm. If this was the means by which Herne punished him, then he would not resist a jot. He did not even care if the man kissing him bore the antlers of a stag or the cleaved hooves of the devil. Not when Herne cupped Tam’s arse with his massive hands, dug in his fingers, and squeezed so hard his flesh sang. Tam’s arousal jutted against Herne’s thigh, and—oh sweet spirits—Herne’s huge cock pressed into Tam’s tight belly, setting him awhirl with desire.
Herne tore his lips away from Tam’s as quickly as he had claimed them. Tam gazed up into his dark blue eyes, reading boundless suffering, insatiable yearning—and a glimmer of reflected gray light, too dull to be moon or enchanted flame. Indeed, both moon and flame had fallen away. The first light of morning crept from the easterly edges of the dell.
Herne relinquished Tam from his embrace. Still trembling in the aftermath of the kiss, Tam stumbled back, but not far. The green ribbon that he’d tied about his wrist now entwined Herne’s too, binding them together, and it stopped him short.
He stared anew at Herne the Hunter, who appeared equally perplexed by the ribbon pulled taut between them. He looked at Herne’s huge, ragged antlers. His awareness of everything that had happened prior to their kiss trickled back, and a sickening realization overthrew his desire. The question escaped his lips before he comprehended its full horror.
“You kissed me and bound me to you in the circle of fire before dawn. Does that not make you and I…betrothed?”
QUESTION TWO: What creeps from the easterly edges of the dell?
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I’m a fool, a hero-worshipping fool. My more critical facilities know that Vogt isn’t a saviour; he’s one of many, like any soldier ready to die for the Fatherland. And yet, I’ve chosen him to be special for me.
But why? It’s not simply his looks. He caught my eye first when he was standing with his squadron-mates on the airfield. There was Wolff, his Katschmarek, a friendly, broad-faced boy from Hamburg with black hair; and Simon, who sounds Southern, agitated, loud, and gifted with infectious humour. There’s Wischinsky, East Prussian, of course, high cheekbones, pale face with wide blue eyes, aloof, wide-framed, tossing out verbal barbs and ending conversations as easily as Simon starts them.
And then Vogt, standing just a step apart from the others. It felt like it was an effort for him to really be part of their group. That is how I sometimes feel. Like him, I belong by virtue of my training and my duty; I’m one of the black men, part of an always-frantic brotherhood.
Yet just like him, there’s one thing I cannot bridge, cannot overcome.
He comes closer, leaning in or inching closer, I can’t tell. I’m wholly taken by his eyes and the faint outline of a vein on the left side of his brow. I blink and answer his gaze, which is intent and focused, as if he’s searching the sky for a deadly foe. Or a target. It’s really both, and between us now, too.
Oddly, I expect him to kiss me. My heart somersaults and then plummets, but it never crashes; that pressure like nausea remains unbroken, until I’m nearly ready to beg him to do something. He lifts a hand and slides his fingers along my temple, as if he were pushing back a strand of hair. But my hair isn’t long enough for that. I stare at him, swallow, then his fingers trail down my temple, that soft, soft skin between cheek and ear, and then track my jawline. At my chin, his fingers change direction and trace the other side of my face. I ’m hypnotised. Entranced.
“Are you guessing it by now?” he asks, his voice so low, as if there were other people in the room who must never know.
Swallowing is painful now. I’m busy enough just with breathing. I feel astutely that this is the only opportunity I’ll ever have to risk everything, neck and life and sanity.
If the world ends tomorrow, how will I go? Without ever having risked anything, or having done the one thing I can’t stop thinking about? His eyes are mild, generous. Is that trust? I take his hand, notice his skin isn’t entirely dry, and neither is mine. I straighten somewhat, then stare at his lips.
And that’s when I kiss him.
My heart is still plunging, but the other sensations are strong enough to make me forget about the nausea. His lips are softer than I imagined them. He’s not wrestling for control. Neither is he demanding anything. The kiss is sweet, gentle, out of place. He lifts his eyebrows and puts a hand against my neck; the other hand squeezes mine, and I squeeze back. I’m no longer falling—I’m soaring now, breathless and miraculous, weightless. As if a wide blue sky has opened for me, like in the best moments of my glider training. I can’t believe we’re doing this. He’s holding my hand, touching my neck. Seems reluctant to release me.
I pull away, clear my throat. I can’t believe I kissed him.
QUESTION THREE: What are Vogt’s eyes like?
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“I made it for you,” Milan said. “I was thinking of you, and then I had the idea for the candy and I made it.” The flames in his cheeks matched the hue of his hair. Jesse couldn’t help but find it adorable.
“How did you get it so spicy?”
“Mexican chili powder. It is a natural with chocolate, a very complimentary taste. I used dark chocolate because it is richer.”
“And you made it for me?” Jesse repeated, sure he’d heard Milan wrong.
“I could not stop thinking about you.”
A shiver of anticipation took Jesse aback. He wasn’t sure what to say, afraid whatever words he chose would surely be wrong.
“I think you are very rich, like this chocolate.” Milan picked up another of the candies, using his fingers to tear it in two, the dark liquid center oozing onto his fingertips. “Sweet and dark.” He reached out to Jesse with chocolate-smeared fingers. Without thinking, Jesse took the fingers between his lips, his tongue licking at Milan’s flesh as much as the sweet coating. “I used Kahlua,” Milan continued, “for the filling. But I diluted it with cream, like a latte.”
Jesse couldn’t reply, too intent on what he was doing. Milan drew his hand back, Jesse following. Milan took the other half of the candy, swiping it across Jesse’s lips. Leaning in to the shorter man, his tongue began to trace a path across those same lips before they parted and he plunged his tongue inside Jesse’s mouth.
Jesse could taste the chocolate upon Milan’s tongue as he circled it with his own. Their lips spread the confection as they kissed, their tongues touching, circling, and exploring. The heat of the chili was a flame upon Jesse’s taste buds, quickly quenched by their tongues.
They were forced to break apart to breathe. Milan put his hands on either side of Jesse’s face, looking deeply into his eyes, smearing his cheeks with chocolate. “I’d like to touch you,” he murmured, his eyes seeking permission.
QUESTION FOUR: What could Jess taste upon Milan’s tongue?
Excerpt five: His Own Devices by Jessica Freely
Sunshine kissed Cam’s forehead, his cheek. They stared at each other.
“It’s okay,” said Sunshine. “This can be whatever you want it to be. You’re safe with me.”
He was. It was an amazing feeling. Cam clutched Sunshine and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “How do you know just what to say, when I don’t tell you anything? I mean, safe.
Why say safe?”
“Because it’s important to you and at the same time difficult for you to feel. You need reassurance.”
Cam lifted his head and kissed Sunshine. He ran his tongue over Sunshine’s lower lip and then dipped back inside for another taste. He pulled back. “I’ve been a coward.”
Sunshine ran his thumb over Cam’s algae-caked cheek. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Of course you’d say that. But it’s true. I haven’t been honest. Not with you. Not with myself. I…” He swallowed. “I love you too. And… I want the things with you that you want with me, but I’ve been afraid to admit it because I’m afraid of what it means about me. So rather than face any of that, I’ve just kept pushing you away. And I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it but, if you still want me after I finish telling you the truth, then… I want to try. But first you have to know, really know, about me.”s
“Okay. I’ll listen.”
QUESTION FIVE: Who hasn’t Cam been honest with?
And that's our last Kiss on my blog! Thanks so much to all the authors who participated and especially to Kay Berrisford who made this all happen! Happiest New Years! Don't miss a single kiss. Scroll down and hop over to Kay's! And if you need to be inspired again by the wonderful prizes -- Go HERE! Thank you so much for celebrating with us! Remember, email your answers to me! : )