Skip to main content

Sweet, sensual, or demanding, all good romances have them. Do you remember True Love's First Kiss?


Whether we are young and innocent...

Older and wiser...

We all remember the first kiss from our true love.

Each time I release a new book, I search for some of the best first-kiss scenes in novels to share along with mine. I hope you'll agree these are some great picks. In the interest of space, I provided you with the name of the novel, which is a link to Amazon and the author's profile page. Without further ado, let's read!


His hand slid up her other arm and wrapped around the back of her neck, resting there. His other hand moved to her face. He simply gazed into her eyes for a second, giving her a chance to say no, but she couldn’t find the power to resist anywhere inside her.
“You’re beautiful, Cassandra, and so incredibly feminine. I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment on the riverbank. I hated seeing you shivering; I wanted so badly to comfort you.”
She gulped, unconsciously licking her lips, not sure if she was supposed to respond to his comment.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He pulled her head forward slowly while still gently cupping her face. His lips touched hers lightly, retracted for a second to gauge her reaction, and then he pressed his mouth to hers again. His lips were warm and soft as they moved over hers, testing and experimenting with the feeling. His mouth worked wonders, and she found herself opening up to him, allowing his tongue to softly circle hers. His hand moved through her hair following her curls down her back pulling her closer, and then his other hand slowly fell from her face only to follow her arm down to her lap, retrieving her hand and placing it on his shoulder.
She realized she had been immobile up to this point, locked in his grasp like a falcon and its prey. She moved her hand up his neck, entwining her fingers through his hair. As wild as his hair looked, it was soft, incredible soft.
There was a low groan from his throat, and then he pulled back unexpectedly, his eyes guilt-ridden. “I’m sorry, Cassandra I shouldn’t have—”

Preston set his mug on her desk and sat in the chair opposite her. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. Perhaps I was a bit too forward asking you to dinner and taking you to look out at the lights.”

Really? He was worried about dinner? “I didn’t mean to make you think that. You were a gentleman.” She stood from behind her desk. “It’s just – well, I’m not very good relationship material.”

Preston stood and rose above her making her shift her eyes up to his. “Perhaps you’ll have to fill me in on that.”

“On what?”

“What makes you so bad in a relationship?”

Her words were swelling in her throat as he looked at her with his dark eyes from across the desk. No man had ever stumped her into silence. “It would be more of the track record of my mother that leads me away from relationships.” She placed her hands on the desk to steady herself, but only found that she was leaning in closer to him. “I just don’t see relationships as very useful.”

“Useful.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “I’ve never heard of relationships used that way.”

His hand caressed her skin and her thinking had become foggy. His skin had warmed from the coffee mug, but there was still that bite of chill as he touched her. She watched as he moved in closer to her over the top of her desk, her paperwork slid from under her hands.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he drew her closer to him, his hand still caressing her cheek. “I’m a fairly useful guy. I can run errands. I can sell you a nice car. I can help you with all these orders when you need it.”

She could feel his breath on her face as she stretched toward him. God, she wished she could think of something to say, but she wanted him to pull her closer.

Preston stopped, their lips just a whisper apart. “I can also turn your heart upside down. And, Tabitha, I think that might be useful to you.”

There was nothing she could say when his lips pressed to hers and heat ripped through her body. Her eyelids closed and color swirled behind them. There was a moan, and she was very sure it had resonated from her throat, but she couldn’t be sure.

His hand tunneled through her hair and rested on the back of her neck. He pulled her closer until her thighs pushed against the edge of the desk.

Tabitha’s mind wandered from the paperwork she’d fretted over, now crumbling beneath her fingers, and focused on the man who had her body turning helplessly limp.

Her eyes opened when he pulled back slightly.

His eyes were darker and focused in on hers. “I’d say that was very useful to me.”

Tabitha swallowed hard and tried to pull back, but his hand was still on the back of her neck and he prevented her escape.

“We can’t …”

“We can.”

She laid a trembling hand at the base of her throat. “I lost the pendant today, there in the river. The leather thong was old and frayed, and it finally parted. I was looking for the necklace when the crocodile dragged me under.”

“I’ll make you another. I can’t believe how close I came to losing you.” He lowered his head, hesitated a moment, gazing into her eyes, before taking possession of her lips.

She kissed him, twining her hands in his glossy black hair. His tongue slipped past her lips, exploring her mouth, engaging her tongue in an erotic dance. Her pulse pounded. I’d long ago gotten over the fantasy he might be a rich merchant, might want to marry me even without a dowry. I hoped he’d want me as a concubine, because I could sing for him. But what can a mortal offer a Great One, save for easy pleasure? My heart is so confused. He wants me, I ache for him, but we can’t have a future together.

WIDOW’S TALE (Golden Heart-nominated) Maureen A. Miller

"Honey, look at me." Helpless, his thumbs brushed at the tears coursing down her cheeks.

Powerless to stop this torture, Brett searched in vain for a way to invade her daze—a way to penetrate her torment. The invasive ring of laughter thwarted all his efforts. Distraught, his fingers wound into Serena’s hair.

 Any indecision was lost to this sense of urgency. In a move fueled by despair, he yanked Serena’s mouth to his.

Brett thought the shock of the act might penetrate Serena’s anguish. Initially, she was cold and unresponsive. He swiped his lips against hers and tasted her tears, licking them away, using his roaming hands and unleashed passion to distract her.

If God struck him dead for this, so be it. If Serena herself wanted to kill him as a result of this, that was understandable. If she was coherent enough to hate him—that would be satisfaction enough.

But right now he still tasted her sobs.

Rough and insistent, Brett’s kisses became a constant. His hands tangled in Serena’s hair, capturing her into compliance until gradually he felt her respond. When the soft tip of her tongue emerged to graze his bottom lip, Brett jolted, but he held her steady. Serena’s mouth opened under his as he heard a soft rumble of desire purr deep in her throat. The warm invitation was just too much to pass up. He greedily partook.

Cool white fingers caught his collar as Serena kissed him back. Tiny whimpers of despair or yearning were the only discernible sound, while he distantly acknowledged the child’s laughter had ceased. He was not gallant enough to withdraw yet, and couldn’t have done so if he wanted to; such was Serena’s hold on him. Taut fingers gripped his shirt, her soft lips responding to his every touch.

Brett’s knees spread apart as he hauled her between his thighs, pulling her closer, nearly onto his lap. The wanton embrace made his kiss intensify and it also altered Serena’s whimper into a husky groan.

He had to stop.

If he didn’t stop, he would lie her down on the floor and kiss her until there were no more ghosts, no more pain—just him.

He reached into his pocket and brought out a pine cone which he held up to her. "As the evergreen is seen unchanged throughout the seasons, so too is my love for you eternal yet still ever growing."

 She took the cone and smiled, wiping the blood from his lip with her thumb. "Oh, Steve, you really are a Sweety." Then she paused. "But why do they call you that?"

 "Cause I'm the youngest of these three Musketeers."

 "The youngest, the bravest, and My Love," she added as she kissed him.

 Suddenly, both felt all the love within them flooding into their hearts. It was so great that they had to share its flow, or they'd burst. In that moment they became One Heart.

 She took the ring he held out and put it on her finger. The love she felt filled her eyes and then ran down to her smile where he kissed each tear joyfully.

 "Touchdown!" yelled Joe and Ken with their arms held high.

 "Would you like to dance?" he asked as the band 'Rizin Starz' began to play a slow song.

 "I love to dance," she sighed, putting her arms around him.

 They swayed gently together, gazing into the each other’s eyes as they softly sang the lyrics.

 A sudden clap of thunder echoed off in the distance from outside as a storm began approaching. Several couples started to quickly gather up their belongings to leave, but they just listened to the music playing in their heart and danced on.

 "Sue!" Janice cried out, holding her beach-bag and hat by the door. "Come on or you'll get caught up in the storm!"

 Sue continued to dance, smiling to his smile.

 "I already am," she said, seeing herself in his eye.

“I don’t know you—”

“Yes, you do.” When did his arm circle her shoulders? When did his face get so close to hers? When did her recalcitrant tear ducts start leaking again? Before she could stop the stupidity, she buried her face in his shoulder, the one without the sling. Her tears drenched the fabric of his shirt.

He stroked her hair until she settled, and then tilted her head back. His lips hovered for one tantalizing second before his mouth found hers. The wind and the night and the ocean and the desire to belong to him swirled around her as if wrapping chains around her willful, disobedient heart. She pushed him back before she reached the point of no return.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t happening,” she said. She grabbed the handrail and pulled her weary body off the top step.


“You don’t understand. I can’t do this again.”

“I’m not that guy, whoever he was.”

She looked down at him. His countenance betrayed a mixture of disappointment and hope, curiosity, longing, and just a hint of fear.

She couldn’t stand the confusion on his face. She had to shatter this thing between them—whatever it was—before it was too late.

And introducing MJ Kane, the newest published author with 5 Prince Publishing. Her novel A Heart Not Easily Broken will be available fall 2012, you can find excerpts here, THE BUTTERFLY MEMOIRS.

This excerpt is from, JADED, the second in her six-part series.

He didn’t let go. I looked at our hands then up into his eyes. The deep hazel irises seemed to darken as his gaze went from light and fun to something else.

“I think we should sit down,” I managed, trying to convince myself the increased heartbeat was a result of physical exertion due to dancing.

“I disagree.” He released one of my hands and gripped my waist instead.

There was no way to escape the sensual smell, of his cologne up close and personal, mixed with the musk of flesh damp from dancing. A rush of heat and desire covered me from head to toe.

“What are you afraid of?” he challenged.

Um, being this close to him? Wanting him? Falling for him?

“I’m not afraid of anything.” I put as much steel in my voice as I could muster. Liar, liar…

Zack pulled me close and moved our bodies in time to the music. His gaze never left mine, nor did he focus on anything around us. It was as if we were the only two people listening to the music. The clinks of glasses, short bursts of laughter, the sound of children running around the room, were lost to the sound of our beating hearts.

Smooth jazz filled my ears, losing me in the rhythm and gentle sway of our bodies.

Okay, I could do this.  I was a grown woman used to the strength of a man’s arms and feel of firm muscles pressed against me. I could control my body and ignore the ripples of desire rushing through me, making my knees weak.

What I could not ignore was the heat from his gaze as it explored my mouth, the warmth of his breath against my cheek, or the gentle slide of fingers along my waist as he enveloped me in his arms.

As if that were not enough, the lyrics to the song hit every nerve. The artist sung of the struggle to ignore the pain of past relationships and allow love to come in again. 

I closed my eyes, dipping my head down to find pieces to the wall I built around my heart. It was impossible; Zack seemed to be tearing the wall down. The pain plaguing me from past relationships was a distant memory while in his arms.

“Yasmine,” his whisper was husky, the laughter from earlier gone. “Look at me.”

I did, which was a bad thing to do.

Never had a man’s gaze pulled me in so hard. Desire replaced reasoning, so strong it was impossible to ignore. How did this happen? Was it the theme of the day or the alcohol consumed?  Or was it the fact this man seemed to have eyes only for me?

Zack gazed hungrily at my mouth and licked his lips.

Panic built inside. This could not be happening. No matter how much I wanted what was certain to happen next, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I wanted it to happen.

Maybe even needed it to.


My lips parted of their own volition, as Zack lowered his mouth slowly to mine.

The moment our lips connected the world stood still. The need to breath ceased as a wave of heat exploded inside of me and threw me deep into territory I longed to explore.

Who knew a kiss so simple could be this earth shattering?

Instead of pulling away, I pressed closer to his body, and slid my hand to the nape of his neck, giving in and accepting everything he gave. The first touch of his lips was a soft contact, testing. The second, an exploration of the water, dipping a toe into the pond.
The third was so much more. My mouth opened involuntarily and Zack didn’t pass up the opportunity to slip his tongue between my lips.

About me, the blog author, Carmen DeSousa:

While I do not write "Christian" books, I do share my characters' Christian beliefs. My characters are real people who come with real flaws; no perfect people allowed.

I characterize my stories as modern-day fairytales, as they are overflowing with romance, mystery, suspense, and of course, tragedy. After all, what would a fairytale be without a tragic event setting the stage? All of my novels are sensual, but not erotic, gripping but not graphic and will hopefully make you cry, laugh, love, and hope.

Both of my published novels, She Belongs to Me and Land of the Noonday Sun, have reached bestseller status right alongside Nicholas Sparks, J.D. Robb, and other great authors. My third novel, Entangled Dreams, is now available.

I love talking about all things books, so please connect with me via one of the links below.

Books available:

After secrets and a mysterious background leave a wife’s life hanging by a thread, a husband must look for answers in the only place he knows—the past.

When two strangers have nothing left but their dreams, they must forge a relationship in Nantahala, North Carolina, a small town known as Land of the Noonday Sun.

When Alexandra’s choices dissolve into Entangled Dreams, pushing her down a dark and dismal path, she must trust her instincts to escape danger, but be able to surrender all to find her happily ever after. Knowing how to decipher the difference, will be her toughest challenge.
Now available at:


  1. Thanks Carmen! I'm feeling all warm and tingly now!!!

  2. Great way to start the day. :) Thank you.

    1. My pleasure, Maureen. Thanks for joining. I hope you liked the excerpts. I soooo can't wait to read "Widow's Tale". I started, but then had to finish another project, but loving it already.

  3. Thanks for including my excerpt!


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"As in any fairytale, everything good must come to an end." ENTANGLED DREAMS:

Now, if you’ve read any of my novels or excerpts, you know I don’t do happy-go-lucky beginnings; and as in any fairytale, a little rain must fall, or in the case of my stories, I prefer a monsoon. This week’s excerpt: But alas, as in any good fairytale, everything good and wonderful must come to an end. After the tragic accident that snatched her mother away from Alexandra, her father moved them away from the beaches of Destin to another beach in Florida. Cocoa Beach. Cocoa Beach was loud, the water murky, and there were no weekend adventures as there had been in Destin. Her father married her evil stepmother, Lilith, who Alexandra was certain was a witch with her long, black as midnight hair and pale-white skin as if she’d never seen sunlight. Her father had admitted he wasn’t in love with Cruella, as she had come to think of the witchy woman, but that he’d wanted Alexandra to have a mother and siblings. Well, she definitely got that. The k

To prologue or not to prologue, that is the question. Readers, please weigh in!

Personally, I love prologues. They get you right into the action whether it was in the past or something exciting that is to come. But that’s exactly why most agents’ blogs I’ve read say not to use them. Paraphrasing…“If you need a prologue, then your story must not be strong enough…” Hmm … well, I like them, and I use them. But I’m curious what readers think, and I’d love you to weigh in. AND, if you have some great examples, please leave the title in the comment section. Now … here’s what I’ve noticed. Plenty of bestselling books have used them, even though they aren’t always called prologues . Same diff in my opinion. My biggest example is ‘Twilight’. If that little blurb wasn’t in the beginning, I don’t think I would have made it through the first chapter. How about movies? I don’t watch a lot. But I’ve started to notice how many have “prologues”. I also don’t have cable, but I have NetFlix, and hubby has just started watching ‘Breaking Bad’. Okay … I

The rule of thirds: No matter what you do, someone will hate you. Get over it and Write On!

No matter what you do in life, a third of the people will love you, a third will hate you, and the rest will be indifferent. Get over it and Write On! Yes, I'm talking to myself. If you're listening, GREAT! It's good advice! Is it easy advice? Heck No! For some reason, even though that percentage is rather low on my books--the percentage of people who hate my books runs about 4.6%--it still hurts.  Note: I only averaged the 'firsts' in my books, the books I actively promote. Because if I go to the second, third, and fourth books in my series, those numbers drop drastically. Obviously, if readers don't like my first book, they don't go on to the rest of my books in a series, so those books receive little to zero one-star reviews. So...if the number of one-star reviews we receive is less than five percent--Thank God ALL of the 33 1/3% of the haters don't write reviews--why do we get so depressed when we receive a one-star review