Friday, January 17, 2014

Excerpt from my WIP

Today, I'm going to do something totally out of the ordinary for me. I'm going to post an excerpt from the book I'm currently writing. It's unedited and totally raw but I'm going to put the first kiss in. I love the first kiss in a romance novel. There's something so sacred and so pivotal about it. It shows so much about the relationship and the chemistry between the characters.

Let me first tell you a bit about this story. In my debut novel, Wedding Gown Girl, Kienna, who works at a bridal boutique is shocked when one of her brides confesses that she's marrying a man she doesn't love. Rachelle says she's marrying Blake for stability only. Kienna has to warn Blake and thus the romance between Blake and Kienna develops. Rachelle was through and through the villain in this story. I never ever considered writing her story.

Then a book reviewer reviewed Wedding Gown Girl and said they would love to read Rachelle's story. I mulled on that idea as crazy as it was to me and I began to forgive and sympathise with Rachelle. Lol, I had to forgive her first. Rachelle has totally redeemed herself in my WIP. In fact, I love her to bits. So, here's the excerpt with a bit of setting the scene before the kiss:

The evening passed by with little conversation, a delicious supper, tame music and a couple more drinks. They had only an hour to get back to ship and he didn’t want the night to end. Rachelle was like a male friend, a companion without demanding anything.
She leant back against the chair, puffing out her chest in a forest-green sleek blouse, her hands behind her now dry, but rather frizzy hair. The generous curve of her cleavage reminded him that she wasn’t a male companion at all. Romantic she wasn’t but undiluted female she was.
“Is it still raining outside?” She asked as she rose to peer out the tiny, dusty window of the pub.
“Afraid of getting wet again?”
“Not too keen on braving the cold air.”
“You could borrow my jacket.”
“I think not. After tonight, we part ways. You’re still … um … booked.”
“Booked?” He winked at her. “Sorry to talk about it, but I would have thought she’d contact me by now. She’s been back in PE for hours now.” He looked at his watch just to confirm the time. Eleven at night. “I’d like to know how her father is doing.”
“Father?” He could see she was curious. Feeling more relaxed, he decided to let it all out. Besides, they wouldn’t see each other again.
“Her father had a massive heart attack. That’s why she left.”
“So, she didn’t end it?”
“She ended the engagement because she didn’t want to think of that and her father at the same time. What I don’t get is why she didn’t want me to go back home with her. She wants to deal with her family crisis alone. She said I would just get in the way.”
Rachelle made an ‘o’ with her mouth again but didn’t say anything.
“I’m thinking of ending the whole relationship.”
The woman walked to the fire and placed her hands near its warmth. “The air by that window is cold.”
“The weirdest thing is that I’m actually enjoying being away from her.”
“Would you like another drink?”
It was actually humorous how she avoided the conversation.
He shook his head. “I’d like to get to my ship cabin safely without toppling overboard.”
“Are you feeling relaxed?”
She shrugged.
He couldn’t bear it any longer. He rose and moved to her in a moment, placing his hands on her sagging shoulders. “What did you run away from?”
“I’m sorry?” She turned to him, her eyes haunted, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment or was it the heat of the fire?
“I can see it in your eyes – the hurt, the confusion.”
She pulled away and attempted to walk back to the window but he grabbed her hand, desperate for her to open up and release the pent-up energy, albeit negative energy. The force of their opposite movements made her spin around to face him, her soft cheeks inches from his gaze. Her lips were pursed and pale pink. No lipstick, no cracks, just smooth and plump. A warm vanilla scent wafted from her hair, mingling with the lazy smell of liqueur and wood smoke. In a moment, she was tucked up against him and he’d moved his lips onto hers. The pressure he gave her surprised him, as also the need to remain there, locked in a kiss in a smoky bar in Spain when his future wife stood vigil in a hospital back home.
He expected her to pull away and break the contact. He waited for her scathing comment to add fuel to his guilt. Instead, her whole body softened in his grasp, making him unable to pull away. He explored her mouth with simple movement which she mirrored. They were instinctively in tune and the arousal he experienced sent shock waves through him. It was so intense that he was now convinced that Desia wasn’t the only woman who stirred him to such passion. In fact, this was way deeper and more intense than …
“I have to go.” She pulled away and turned from him, grabbing her jacket in haste.
“I don’t know the way back.”

“You’ll have to follow me then.” A deep sigh followed her statement but she refused to look at him.

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