Friday, December 15, 2017

How to Kiss and Tell. Writing Kissing Scenes

Writing kissing scenes is hard. Is anyone here good at this? Of course, since all of my books are squeaky clean, I don't have entire scenes of kissing. But the first kiss, at least, needs more than a three word sentence. Anyone want to share a scene with a good kiss in it? Or is this kissing and telling?

I would love to see your kissing scene! Please comment below. But only kissing! This is a flinch free blog! If it's from an already published book, please leave a buy link in the comments.

Here's a few kissing snippets from a few of my Facebook friends at Indie Clean Reads (the seriously best writers resource on the web):

She opened the box of ornaments. Their first Christmas ornament stood out to her immediately. Merry smiled as she put it on the tree. Had it really been four years? In some ways, nothing had changed. A frown creased her brows as she realized some things had. They no longer seemed as close as they had once been. The frown disappeared as Alex’s arms wrapped around her. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting ornaments on the tree?” she asked.
“I am,” he replied, nuzzling her neck. “There’s a bare spot right there, see?” He hung an ornament on the branch.
Merry giggled as warmth spread through her. “Ah, yes, wouldn’t want a bare spot. Good thing you saw that,” she added, turning toward her husband.
“We might have missed it all together,” Alex said, leaving a lingering kiss on Merry’s mouth.
She couldn’t think when he kissed her like that. Their home phone rang. “Ugh, mood killer.” From

Of Snow and Mistletoe by Jessica L. Elliott 

A soft chime told them the hangar pressure had equalised.

He took her hand. "Ready?"

The sudden fire in her eyes took his breath away. "Yes, the answer is yes."

In one deft move, she pulled him in, and their lips met.

His voice tight, he whispered, “I don’t want to misunderstand you, Hannah. What do you wish of me?”

The word wish, the veiled hope in his eyes… Hannah found herself unable to speak for a moment. So she closed her eyes and brought Cadeyrn’s gloved hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth, the almost imperceptible trembling, the smoothness of the leather against her skin.

Her eyes still closed, she whispered, “I wish you’d kiss me. I wish—“
His lips pressed against hers, and she couldn’t breathe for the spark that arched her back, a sudden rush of desire and emotion that caught her breath in her lungs and brought her thoughts to a standstill. Time shattered, and she didn’t care.

Cadeyrn pulled away, his arm braced on the stone wall. He was breathing hard, his breath warm against her hair, his own wild hair brushing the sensitive skin of her neck as he sagged against the wall.

A sudden thought curled sick within her belly, and she whispered, “You didn’t do that because I made you, did I? Can a wish do that?”

His soft laughter startled her. “No, Hannah. Wishes cannot compel love, and love is what you felt.”

She rested her cheek against his, feeling his breath against her ear, his hair tickling her face

“Hey, don’t cry.” He sat beside her and pulled her into an embrace. “I promise, I’m going to do everything in my power to get both your dad and your brother home safely. It’s going to be all right.”
“It’s not that,” she whispered, dropping her chin to
wards her chest.
“Then what is it?”
She raised her face, and their eyes met, her gaze soft yet somehow penetrating. An uncomfortable yet thrilling sensation of vulnerability swept through him, as if she could see straight into his soul. His breath abandoned his lungs. Her fingers twined into his hair, drawing him closer. Their lips met.
Common sense screamed at him to pull away, but the warmth of her held him captive. His arms tightened about her waist. He pressed his mouth harder into hers, hungry for her. Her lips parted in a gentle sigh that melted him like wax.
The kiss broke. She hid her face against his neck, her breath tickling his skin and scrambling his thoughts.

The old man leaned over. He hadn’t kissed a woman or any other creature in years. His German shepherd Lizzy didn’t count because the only time she ever kissed him was to lick the gravy off his face. he wondered if his lips could still pucker. He closed his eyes and then though better of it, what if he missed and got her nose. That would be awful old people’s nostrils had a terrible tendency to flair if the wind whipped up. Yuck. 
But he was determined. Love had pounded its way into his decrepit heart when he had all but given up on ever feeling its fierce passion again. It took him awhile to realize that he was actually falling in love with Ewanta, at first he thought it was just a prostrate problem. But nothing helped. Then it hit him he liked her, he actually loved her. And now the moment of truth had come the time for crossing the threshold. She wanted him to kiss her he wanted to kiss her so he leaned forward, slowly moving toward her beckoning pucker, then for some strange reason he opened his eyes.. Dang, that’s a big mole!


  1. Okay, this is from my book, The Wicked North, book 1 of my Civil War series Hearts Touched by Fire. This is the first kiss between the hero, Jack, and the heroine, Emma. This was part of a parlor game that used to be played then-anyone who didn't win a game got a forfeit and at the end of the evening, they had kissing games to pay off the forfeit. Mild flirtation of youth! Emma is collecting kisses for the 1st time by going to the '4 corners' and kissing the man there. This is her with Jack -

    Jack stood still. She fidgeted. The silk dress clung to her breasts and her narrow waist. Her cage crinoline maintained a respectable space between them, regardless of how much he wanted her closer. He put his hands at the waist of her skirt and felt her tremble. She bit her lower lip. Oh, how he wanted to soothe that lip.
    With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer. The motion unbalanced her, and her hands sought his arms. When she still didn’t lean up to kiss him, he brought her even closer, his eyes fixed on her lower lip as her teeth released it.
    He wouldn’t meet her halfway. This could be the only time he’d have the advantage, and he didn’t want to waste it. Because Emma’s feet were slightly lifted from the floor, she gripped his arms tightly.
    He brought her to him. As he kissed Emma, his tongue traced her lower lip before his mouth enveloped hers. He wanted her to open her mouth, and he prodded the crease between her lips, coaxing her with his tongue. She parted her lips but pulled her head back as his tongue invaded her mouth.
    She tasted like strawberries and wine. It was an intriguing taste and he wanted more. She felt soft and warm against him. He knew he was pushing the limits of the game and propriety, but when he glimpsed her eyelashes feathered on her cheek, he almost growled. Abruptly, Jack released Emma and set her on the floor, his hands remaining at her waist. He could feel her shiver as she looked into his face, her eyes wide open. He smiled.
    Within a second, she raced away from him as fast as she could in a ladylike manner. Jack smirked. She had enjoyed his kiss. With his head cocked to the side, he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy.

    The Wicked North
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    Thank you!

  2. I write clean romance, and I LOVE writing the kissing scenes. I love building up the tension between the two characters until their lips finally meet passionately. Here is a kissing scene from my most recent release, "A Thrill of Hope" a Christmas romance. To set up the scene a little, hero mistakes heroine for his girlfriend when he sees her in the darkened closet of the theater. H/H have known each other since they were kids - since he'd mistaken her for his girlfriend fourteen years ago and gave her a 'first' kiss.

    Frozen in fear, Holly couldn’t breathe. The stranger who had taken her in his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, smelled very nice, and he kissed extremely well. Flashbacks from when she was a twelve-year-old girl, kissing a boy for the first time in this very room, brought back horrible feelings of being inadequate and the humiliation that followed. Hadn’t she locked away that horrible moment in time in her mind so she wouldn’t relive it? So why had fate decided to bring it back and let it slap her in the face?

    The man’s muscular arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. She quickly placed her hands on his chest to stop him. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Of course, it surprised her that his chest felt as muscular as his arms. And his warm body was quite comfortable to lean against.

    He tore his mouth away from hers and trailed tiny kisses along her jaw toward her ear. A shiver of delight ran through her, and she questioned her own sanity. It had been months since she’d dated a guy. Well, to be quite honest, it had been a year, but this bold stranger was bringing back those longing, lonely feelings she’d suppressed in order to focus on her career.

    “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” he muttered as his lips traveled down her throat. “Or are you just so overjoyed to see me that you’re at a loss for words?”

    She swallowed hard, trying to bring back her voice. “Umm… I-I-”

    “I missed you, too, my darling woman.”

    His lips moved back and met with hers. He was being so tender, so loving, even if he had the wrong woman. Regardless, a burst of pleasure exploded in her chest before she could stop it. Heated tingles spread over her, starting from the tips of her long, heavily moisturized hair, right down to her manicured toenails.

    Slowly, she relaxed against him, even though she tried not to. He was still a stranger – a stranger who smelled good, felt good, and was extremely gentle with her. But that didn’t matter. She needed to focus.

    I’m still kissing a strange man!

    Once he finally pulls away and sees her in the light, he’ll wonder why she kept kissing him, knowing it was a case of mistaken identity.

    So then why are you still kissing him, Holly?

    The voice of reason inside of her conscious finally broke to the surface, helping her to ignore all of the butterflies dancing inside of her chest, and the warm tingling sensations scattering throughout her.

    Shaking her head, she pulled away from him. “No,” she said with a cracked voice. “I’m not who you think I am.”

    The man blinked a few times as he stared down at her. He was so tall. The top of her head probably reached his chin.

    “Katie?” he asked.

    This was the second time in her life she’d been kissed by a man who made her toes curl, in this very room, and he called out the wrong name. If this happened to her again, she was going to burn this place down herself.

    She licked her suddenly dry lips. The separation from his mouth disturbed her greatly. She felt as if her lips were meant to be connected with his. “No, I’m not Katie. I’m Holly.” She cleared her throat again. “Holly Kidman.”

    ON SALE ONLY 99 cents for EBOOKS!!

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    1. Whew! I definitely need to amp up my kissing scenes!

    2. Just remember to build up the emotion between h/h. When writing a kissing scene, write more about what they are feeling than what they are doing. Make sense?

  3. This excerpt is taken from my sweet and clean holiday romance, A Portuguese Christmas, The hero, Adolfo, is a Portuguese olive farmer. The heroine, Krystal, is an American surfer. The story takes place in Portugal:

    Women had accused Adolfo of being detached and aloof. Perhaps it was his nature, perhaps his upbringing. With Krystal, the urge to protect her from her foolish pursuits was so overpowering, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go.
 Unhurriedly, his fingers outlined the shape of her mouth, admiring the exquisite cupid’s bow. He kept everything feathery—his caresses, his voice, his motions. Dressed in form-fitting jeans and a red blouse draped attractively around her enticing body, she was incredibly desirable.

    His lips came within a fraction of hers. “What are you afraid of, Krystal?”

    “Afraid is a strong word.” In the course of shaking her head, she smiled, cancelling out both reactions. “Maybe you should explain why you feel so unbalanced around me, and why—”

    “Why, why, why,” he murmured. Her fragrance reminded him of crisp soap and clean water, a veil of sparkling simplicity.
    Take it slow. Don’t startle her. 

    She was every inch the enchantress. She could be furious with him, and then disarm him the next moment with her charismatic smile.

    Surely, she felt what he felt, this fate weaving a spell around them both.

She laid a finger on his jaw and drew a wobbly sigh. “Adolfo, I …I haven’t been kissed in a long time.”

    He captured her sigh with a kiss. Their breaths mingled.
 He claimed her quivering lips exhaustively, insistently, hungrily. Tentatively at first, her mouth answered his, surprising him with her eagerness. 
His kiss deepened. His hands explored every inch of her flawless face, and he brought her tighter against him.

    A Portuguese Christmas is available as an ebook, paperback and audiobook.

    Thanks, Kristy!

  4. Here’s a scene from Dangerous Friends.

    I remembered the first time Miyo kissed me—I mean really kissed me. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I had managed to ask after I caught my breath.
    She had giggled like a school girl. “I bet you never kissed a saxophone player before.”
    “You play the saxophone?”
    “Not anymore, but I played tenor sax in high school.”
    “I didn’t know that. One more of your many talents. But what does playing a saxophone have to do with kissing?”
    “Before you play the instrument, you have to moisten the reed. You do that by tonguing the reed—a lot. It’s like sucking a Popsicle. Would you like me to demonstrate again?”
    “Yes, please. Early and often.” And she had.
    We’d dated for two months, ever since she’d asked me over to enjoy the sunset from her balcony. Whenever she kissed me, it still made my knees weak.

  5. This is from HARD TO RESIST - Scene is clean, book is less so...
    Warmth bloomed between her legs, and she caught her breath and stifled a groan. She’d been fighting that unfamiliar and very pleasant sensation most of the previous evening, but she’d had a drink or two then, and her guard had surely been down. But now, when he was hurt? In public? In daylight? And he was being so offensive?
    And she was totally sober?
    “I could probably find you a big loose T-shirt?” she suggested.
    God! After keeping her control on such a tight rein for all this time, it had to be him who’d cracked through her defences?
    She saw his lips quirk.
    “I’m a lot bigger and looser than you, darlin’,” he said, surprising her by sliding an arm around her shoulders as though he needed something to lean on.
    Like hell he did, but she dared not push him away in case she hurt him. “What are you doing?” she demanded as he pulled her close to his uninjured side. The heat rolled off him in waves, along with a musky scent that had to be part soap, part sweat, and part … pheromones?
    “Just feeling a little unsteady.” His flashing grey eyes challenged her to disagree.
    “Hmmm…” Desperate to regain the upper hand, she raised her chin, glared across the road at her apartment block, and tried to ignore him.
    He was so close that his breath stirred the strands of her hair. Or was he even closer? She sensed gentle warmth against her scalp. “Did you just kiss my hair?” she demanded, trying to shake him off.
    His arm vibrated around her as he laughed. “Why would I kiss your hair?”
    She shrugged against hard muscle. “Well, that’s what it felt like.”
    This was hopeless. Where had her usual self-possession gone? She twisted her face up again to accuse him more thoroughly.
    His hand left her shoulder and slid under her jaw. His intense gaze held hers. “If I kissed you somewhere, you’d know all about it, darlin’. And I’d start here,” he murmured, nipping her bottom lip. “Followed by here… ” He relaxed his grip on her, and his mouth prowled leisurely over hers as millions of her nerve endings buzzed and clamoured for more. Then, to her desolation, he pulled away. She tamped down the desperate sound wanting to escape from her throat, and gasped a frantic breath.
    “Are we nice and clear on that?” he whispered. “I wouldn’t want you to miss it if I put some effort in.”
    She fumed at his nerve. At the way her lips now tingled. At the way he’d reduced her to gulping like a fish.
    She hoped her antiseptic really stung.

  6. I really like to get some humor into my love scenes rather than endless sloppy detail. And I like someone to be on the back foot!


    When Maggie turned away, still chuckling, she felt herself grabbed around the waist by a pair of strong hands. Spinning her toward him, Grayson lifted her lightly into the air, making her squeak in surprise. With a bark of laughter he eased her down again, keeping his hands at her waist until she was steady on her feet. Then he cupped her chin, bent his head ... and kissed her.
    Oh! was all her bedazzled brain could register – that, and the sweet dance blazing on her lips as he pressed his firm, warm mouth against hers. A pulsing heat flashed through her body like an electric current and she involuntarily closed her eyes.
    Oh yes ... YES!
    Instinct took over when Grayson felt her melt against him. Moving a hand to cradle the back of her head, he drew her closer and deepened his kiss.
    A swirling volcano erupted into a molten mass inside her. She was only barely aware of the strong arm drawing her against his body, making her knees wobble. In what seemed like an out-of-body experience, she felt herself returning the pressure on her lips with increasing passion. Her hands reached up from where they'd been resting lightly on his arms to wrap themselves around his neck, as she willed him to ... to....
    Suddenly the rational part of her mind shoved aside the hot fog of desire clouding it.
    Her shocked eyes snapped open.
    What the HELL?