My Hero Is A Bad Kisser?
The hero of my historical romance is an autistic savant and a Crimean soldier with severe PTSD. Think Rain Man with "X-Men" Wolverine's attitude in Jude Law's body. On a good day, Wilhelm Montegue composes music and fiddles with calculus equations. His bad days are the reason he lives sequestered in the country.
His story isn't all bleeding hearts and sad violin music, though there's plenty of drama. I had way too much fun creating a socially awkward character. He's a disaster, really, especially when he tries to impress Sophia Duncombe, a jaded socialite.
Who likes male virgin stories? You do? Well, Wilhelm has never even been kissed. Or at least, that's what he says. In this excerpt, Wilhelm has just won a bet with Sophia, and the collateral is a kiss.
“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know how,” Lord Devon said.
Was this some game? Was he mocking her?
“No need to look so disturbed. I only want a kiss. But you will have to teach me if I am to be any good at it.” He flashed his debonair grin, the one with dimples that made her heart kick in double time.
She decided to play along. “Well, you have it set up properly; romantic scenery, a participating party… So get on with it, my lord.”
“I told you, I am anxious. Come a little closer, will you?” He reached around her shoulders to slide her hat off, then unraveled her chignon.
“I think you are merely stalling, Wilhelm.”
He traced her lips with the tip of his finger. “Is it so obvious? I was hoping you would lead the way, being that I am in uncharted territory.”
Sophia was already giddy with the pleasant buzz of mild arousal, from only his touch. “Very well. Then I will stare at your mouth and bite my lip, which in turn will make you stare at my mouth.”
His breath quickened and his lips parted as he stared. “An effective manipulation. I cannot look away, and now I have this embarrassing urge to lick you.” His voice sounded low and smooth with a hint of flirtation, like chocolate liqueur.
She did it first. She slid her hand behind his neck and drew his face to hers then ghosted the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip.
He rumbled with a quiet growl then broke into an absurd smile. “Do that again, woman, and I might drop dead.”
Sophia lowered her mouth to his and painstakingly closed her lips over his. He was slow to respond, as though he truly had no idea how to kiss. She gave him another short kiss. “Do it back, Wilhelm.”
He tried, puckering too much. Boyish. A bit limp. She took control, showing him again, rolling her lips over his, then again but harder. “Tilt your head to the left, and I will go the other way, so we don’t bump noses.”
Either he was a quick study or a hustler. He cupped her face and kissed her back, tenderly at first then aggressively like sparring, like the way they argued. Intoxicating how his pine-leather-mint-cognac scent became a flavor. She hummed in her throat, he hummed back, a mutual agreement of pleasure. He was thorough, patient, as though he would be content to kiss all day and do nothing else.
Is Wilhelm truly an amateur, or is it a ploy to get Sophia where he wants her? Check out Song for Sophia, a ‘12 RWA Golden Heart finalist & ’12 National Reader’s Choice Award winner published by esKape Press.
To win a man’s heart, a woman must have the mind of a diplomat, a general, and Cleopatra, all in one.
Desperation has led Anne-Sophia Duncombe to a life of exile. Still, she is always just one mistake away from capture and a marriage she would rather die than endure. As a last resort to remain hidden from her former life, Sophia attempts a radical scheme; a life of humility and disguise.
Rumor has it Wilhelm Montegue, the Earl of Devon, is insane. A tormented war hero haunted by scandal, he is only tolerated because of his brilliant mind and swarthy good looks. His unmentionable “condition” which keeps him confined to his country home is also the source of his talent for composing music.
When a new housemaid is hired at Rougemont, Lord Devon is perplexed to find himself fascinated by her. He knows the exquisite beauty is keeping secrets but her siren’s voice draws him ever closer, and he can’t resist the intoxicating scent of danger surrounding her.
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About the Author:
Moriah Densley sees nothing odd at all about keeping both a violin case and a range bag stuffed with pistols in the back seat of her car. They hold up the stack of books in the middle, of course. She enjoys writing about Victorians, assassins, and geeks. Her muses are summoned by the smell of chocolate, usually at odd hours of the night. By day her alter ego is your friendly neighborhood music teacher. She lives in Las Vegas with her husband and four children. Published in historical and paranormal romance, Moriah has a Master’s degree in music, is a 2012 RWA Golden Heart finalist, 2012 National Reader’s Choice Award winner in historical romance and ’12 NRCA “Best First Book” finalist.