Category Archives: book blog
The Princess and the Magic Shamrock for #stpatricksday2024
The Princess and the Magic Shamrock for #stpatricksday2024
A princess who wants a job… and a prince.
So she runs away from the stuffy old castle and…
Check out my #stpatricksday dramatic video podcast!
Meet the ‘Kissing Bandit’ in my short story for Valentine’s Day… otherwise known as my high school kissing disaster
Writers write what we know… even when it’s embarrassing.
Take my first kiss. High school. Drama class. Me, the shy new kid. And a snarky guy with a big ego.
Keep reading….it gets worse.
Valentine’s Day is a time for kissing.
But what if your first kiss was just plain awful?
Meet Riley Murphy. She’s a kissing virgin, waiting for the right guy to come along. Until she joins the Drama Club at Holywell High and has to kiss the class dweeb on stage in front of the whole school on Valentine’s Day.
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VIRGIN KISS
Jina Bacarr
Introduction
What’s in a kiss? A kiss by any other name is—
—sweet, romantic, intimate, passionate, wet, sloppy, disgusting, probing, awful, nasty, sexy, tingly, and sometimes just plain wonderful.
But what if it’s your first kiss? And you have to pucker up in front of a live audience at your high school? What then?
Pass the Altoids, please.
The kiss-from-hell happened to me, Riley Murphy.
This is my story.
* * *
A few weeks before Valentine’s Day…
I’m the new kid at Holywell High School, a shy, skinny freshman with cinnamon-colored freckles sprinkled across my nose. Flat-chested. I’ll never be Miss Popularity with the bouncy boobs and flirty lashes.
I’m more like an olive stuck on the end of a toothpick.
Even with that dossier, I’m not a total dork. I’ve gotten pecks on the cheek and quick brushes on the lips, but I’ve yet to experience the soul-melting kisses you see in the flicks. The passionate lip-lock I’ve dreamed about, wrote about in my diary.
I’ve pined for that kiss, but it’s yet to happen to me. God knows, I’ll be in graduate school facing lifelong debt before the right pair of lips meet mine.
To overcome my shyness, my mom convinces me to try out for the Drama Club. Somehow I land the leading role in a one-act Chekhov play.Yes, Chekhov.
I play this mad, beautiful countess with passion and heart. I love it. I come alive on stage. I can do anything, be anybody, say anything, I can—
—kiss the male lead?
A gangly sophomore named Harold Brimwell with long, greasy hair and an upper lip curled in a perpetual snarl. He’s going to anoint my virgin lips with my first kiss?
Forget the Altoids. I need a stress pill.
I quit the play. They can find another dupe. Not me. I’m not going to let him use my lips for kissing practice.
Then I hear this little voice in my head telling me this is acting. Going through the motions at rehearsals and on stage don’t count on the kissing scale. I can pucker up with Harold on stage and still be a kissing virgin.
Right?
After my pep talk to myself, I sail through rehearsals, knowing my lines and ‘connecting to my character’ according to the director. He says I’m a natural, my emotions raw but real. This is amazing. Me, Riley Murphy, the kid who’s always the ‘new girl’ at school because we move around so much because of my dad’s job, found something she’s good at.
Then the trouble starts.
The director insists on method acting.We don’t rehearse the kiss. He wants a real kiss on stage, not a phony smooch.
Worse yet, we open on Valentine’s Day with a preview performance at the afternoon school assembly. Not only do I have to kiss this guy, I have to do it on the most romantic day of the year in front of the entire student body.
I dump the Altoids… along with my confidence down the toilet.
* * *
Valentine’s Day dawns rainy and cold. Perfect weather for a Russian play.
I arrive at the gym early, put on my makeup in the girls’ bathroom then, with my hands shaking, I hook up my long Victorian black lace dress borrowed from the costume department, the silk petticoats rustling around my feet. I’m way nervous, but something cool happens as I run my lines over and over, my fear slowly dissolving into a shaky confidence as I slip into my character’s skin. Humming ‘I will survive’, I check my props, my fingertips tingling as I pull on my snug dueling gloves, then twirl the dainty parasol over my head like a spinning top.
I grab the small pistol for my big dueling scene, then heave out a big breath, praying I don’t drop it and everybody laughs at me.
I save putting on my lipstick for last.
First, I gargle mint-flavored mouthwash until my lips turn green and my mouth goes numb. Next, I line my lips with Chekhovian, dark red lipstick and smack them together. Perfect. I’m ready for my lip close-up.
It’s showtime.
I’m so nervous when the lights come up, I garble my opening lines. Then I trip over my own feet and nearly crash into the backdrop. Hot tears form in my eyes, but I want this too bad to give up now. All my life, I’ve stayed in the shadows. If I fail now, I may never get the courage to try again. I ignore the smirks and catcalls and swish my long skirts around like a real countess to boost my confidence.
I can do this.
Somehow, I get my groove on and my theatre training takes over. I sail across the stage, chin up, shoulders back, my voice clear, my lines down to a T. I’m ‘in the moment’. Much to my relief, the dueling scene goes off without the pistols misfiring.
Then it’s time for…
… the kiss.
I’ll never forget the expression on Harold’s face when he takes two long strides toward me. A mixture of sadistic pleasure and baddass ‘tude comes over his face, as shiny and sweaty as his palms, freaking me out. Lower lip snarling, my co-star gives me that ‘I’ve got you now’ look all fired up in his eyes, pinning me to the wall.
My teeth chatter. My mouthwash stops working.
It’s so quiet in the high school gym you can hear the director chewing on the end of his pencil.
My heart pounds so hard I can’t get my breath on when Harold pulls me into his arms, yanking me around like I’m a dollar store rag doll and then—
—he slams his mouth onto mine.
Bile rises in my throat as he pushes my lips apart and thrusts his mushy, saliva-coated gum into my mouth, making me nauseous. I swear if my dress wasn’t hooked up so tight, I would have ralphed all over him. Before I can push him off me, he shoves his tongue down my throat, way down, nearly gagging me.
I start choking.
I can’t breathe. Oh, my God, I’m going to pass out.
No, I can’t, I won’t. I’m determined not to faint. I have to get him off me. No gum-chewing, phony-macho sophomore is going to get the best of me.
I’m an actress, I tell myself, so act!
With stars circling around in my pounding head, I pull up my strength and kick him in the shin. There.
Startled, he jerks backward, but not before he bites my lower lip.
What the—
I taste coppery blood. Fresh, oozing, smearing my perfectly-applied lipstick. I’m in shock, disbelieving. It can’t get any worse.
Can it?
It can.
Dabbing my bleeding lip with my silk sleeve, I struggle in his arms, but he holds me tight, slobbering all over me, licking my face, my throat, coating my skin with stringy gum. My ears won’t stop ringing. The audience is going crazy, yelling and shouting like they’re at a basketball game and I’m the bouncing ball.
No, no, he’s not going to take advantage of me. I worked hard to get this part, learn my lines. Practiced how to walk, how to find the core of my character. Gosh darn, this is the first time in my whole life I’ve come out of my shell and done something really special.
He’s not going to ruin it for me.
I have to do something. Fast.
The pistol.
Where is it? After the mock dueling scene, I threw the prop gun down on the round table. It has to be there, but where?
I reach out behind me, my nails catching on the lace doily… I twist my head just a little… yes, I see it. I edge the gun toward me, an inch at a time. Sweat oozes down my too-tight collar and my knees buckle, but I don’t give up.
Almost got it… there. My fingers wrap around the pearl-inlayed handle. I suck in a breath then, without losing my nerve, I jam the prop into his ribs. Hard. I yank my body with such fury, I rip the black silk sleeve right out of the armpit. It slides down my shoulder, but it doesn’t stop me.
‘Get your hands off me, you sloppy-kissing, gum-chewer!’ I yell, ignoring the script and re-writing Chekhov. ‘Or you’re getting an “F” in drama class.’
The director gasps. Loudly. But he doesn’t refute what I said.
‘Yeah, sure,’ Harold stutters, letting me go, raising up his hands and backing away. ‘Anything you say, Riley.’
‘That’s telling him!’ a girl yells from the audience.
Amy Zanderbar. His ex-girlfriend.
She’s not the only one. All the girls stand up and start chanting, ‘Go, Riley, go!’
Wow. I hit a nerve with the females sitting in the bleachers who had their share of bad kissers.
They love it.
The audience starts clapping wildly and stomping their feet and continue chanting my name. I break the fourth wall and give them a ‘V’ for Victory high sign until the chanting dies down, then my thespian instincts kick in and I get back into character, giving Chekhov his due and ending the play as he wrote it.
I’ll always remember this night when a shy freshman girl in a borrowed Victorian dress took on a snarky sophomore and became empowered to stand up for herself in front of the whole student body.
It changed my life.
* * *
Epilogue
We performed the one-act play for the next few nights without further incident, faking the kiss each time. Harold is cool, not attempting any more way-out kissing. For me, it’s strictly acting.
I’m still a virgin in lip-land.
But I’ll never forget V-Day and my experience with the gum-toting, kissing bandit. Not a bad guy, just a rotten kisser.
And in case you’re curious, next semester I do find the right pair of lips to land that first kiss.
A hottie junior. Jack Dwayne.
When Jack takes me in his arms and lowers his face to mine, I quiver with anticipation and soon discover a kiss isn’t just a kiss, it’s…
… magic.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
——————–
PS — yes, Riley is me, a shy freshman back in the day.
And here’s a short clip of me back in high school…
—————
Music for Virgin Kiss: ‘Sweeter Vermouth’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/b…
Photos: https//www.Dreamstime.com
SISTERS AT WAR is Book One — I’m writing the sequel SISTERS OF THE RESISTANCE now… there was so much ground to cover with the Beaufort Sisters and the untold story of women becoming victims of rape and sexual assault during wartime, not just the physical pain, but the mental and shame women go through anytime sexual assault happens, there wasn’t room in one book to cover the whole story.
Thank you for listening…
Jina
AU https://amzn.asia/d/6fDfTJ9
Bold Book Club #womensfiction #historicalfiction
The Beaufort Sisters are at war with the Nazis… and each other
‘A must read for anyone’
‘Hard hitting and heart breaking’
‘An absolutely gripping, powerful story’
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/sisters-at-war-2
==============
THE OPRHANS OF BERLIN
I’ve been holding my breath for this moment… a long road… years in the making in a very personal way that made me cry as I write this.
Meet the Landau Sisters barely surviving in Nazi Germany… and Kay Alexander, the amazing debutante from Philadelphia who will stop at nothing to save them from the Nazis in 1939 Berlin…
And of course, there’s a British pilot hero to die for…
—————-
Love Forties Fiction?
A girl from a controversial upbringing becomes a famous perfumer during the war when she comes to Paris in 1940 to escape the Gestapo. Then how she uses perfume to do her part to win the war…
THE LOST GIRL IN PARIS is on Amazon!
US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B1QDRVW/
UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09B1QDRVW/
CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09B1QDRVW/
Australia https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B09B1QDRVW/
——————–
The Resistance Girl
Juliana discovers her grandmamma was a famous French film star in Occupied Paris & her shocking secret…
US https://amzn.to/2FoKKeS00READ MORE
Halloween, Speed Dates & Vampires, oh my!
Halloween, Speed Dates & Vampires, oh my!
My Speed Date with a Vampire is coming up next… find out all about my short story dramatic podcast with sound effects!!
————-
I’m the author of the Wartime Paris Sisters: Sisters At War Book 1
Sisters of the Resistance Book 2 coming July 2 2024
Green Libraries Week and how I made it my own with a memory of my childhood
It’s #GreenLibrariesWeek and I’ve reposted my fellow Boldwood Books authors out and about in the UK.
Makes me ‘green’ with envy since my Boldwood Books aren’t available in US libraries.
Alas, I made my own library here at home, including a very old (overdue?) green library book from my childhood and the cutest, porcelain little girl who could be the heroine in my #newrelease #SistersAtWar when she was little.
I couldn’t believe the resemblance between the two. What do you think?
Sisters At War:
Bold Book Club
#historicalfiction #womensfiction
The Sisters At War journey continues…
My blog tour for #SistersAtWar has come to an end!
I have so enjoyed reading all your fab reviews, your thoughts, your concerns.
The story of the Beaufort Sisters is so intense that one book isn’t enough to tell it all, so I’m working on SISTERS OF THE RESISTANCE book 2
Who are the Beaufort Sisters?
They’re beautiful
They’re smart
They’re dangerous
They’re at war with the Nazis… and each other.
Sisters At War buy link: https://t.co/bYrynTvs80
At last: Sisters At War pubs Monday Sept 25th
Out on Monday!
Waiting in the wings for pub day…
Butterflies dancing in my stomach… nerves
Because the subject matter in my story comes from a real place in my life. Sexual assault. What will readers say? Will they come along on the journey?
Should I have kept my secret like I have for such a long time?
I don’t know…
Hence the butterflies.
Come back with me to Paris WW2. Sisters At War is the next book in a series of books I’ve written about that era. I so hope you enjoy it!
#NetGalley reviews:
‘A must read for anyone’
‘Hard hitting and heart breaking’
‘An absolutely gripping, powerful story’
Pre-order: https://t.co/bYrynTvs80
My secret reading list in college for #ReadABookDay
I’ve loved books since I read my first fairy tale when I was a little girl at St Vincent’s in Philly. I read Nancy Drew, Dana Girls, the whole gang, then I ‘discovered’ the adult section at the little library on the beach when I was 13.
And I was off and running with the likes of Harold Robbins and Irving Wallace.
In college I discovered French historical novels… and well, you can guess what I’m reading here!
For #ReadABookDay I pulled out this photo of me back in college ‘studying’ at the student center
I’d read French novels whenever I could. No wonder I write Paris WW2 historicals
My latest is ‘Sisters At War’ and it pubs on Sept 25th.
Pre-order: https://t.co/bYrynTvs80
Boldwood Books
If you’re a bookblogger or reviewer, check out #SistersAtWar on #Netgalley: http://netgal.ly/gSCTrL
It’s my first 5 star review for Sisters at War and it’s lovely
I’m still glowing over this 5* review on #NetGalley for #SistersAtWar
I feel like a kid with an orange cream popsicle on a hot day!
(#boldwoodbooks orange, of course).
Jen C says, ‘Wow what a book! From the very first page I was totally hooked… An absolutely gripping, powerful story that I won’t forget anytime soon.’
If you’re a book blogger/reviewer and you’d like to request an ARC, go to NetGalley: http://netgal.ly/gSCTrL
Pre-order: https://t.co/bYrynTvs80
A Soldier’s Letter to his Sweetheart during WW2 for #WorldLetterWritingDay
You’ll feel every word this soldier wrote to his sweetheart on Dec 25 1943 before shipping overseas to fight in Italy
This is the #letter that inspired ‘Her Lost Love’
US https://lnkd.in/gnDxRZy
UK https://lnkd.in/g_uxs8w
#loveletter BoldwoodBooks
Happy 4th Birthday to my fabulous publisher Boldwood Books! (and check out my old college photo of me studying…)
When I was making this video, I found an old photo of me ‘studying’ back in the day at university. I was sitting outside what we called the ‘student center’ near the science building on campus. A friend captured the moment and I kept the photo in my college yearbook.
Yes, we wore dresses and I remember those black suede shoes. Low heels. I started out wearing 3-inch heels — red, of course — but that didn’t last. The campus was vast and hilly and I had to trek across the campus from the humanities building to the library and then to the science building.
A different time.
I lived in Laguna Beach steps from the ocean, got my first surfboard, and had a wonderful mentor from the golden days of Hollywood. A charming, older lady who helped me with my singing.
I’ve come a long way… but I’ll always remember those days sitting on the beach and reading my ‘Angelique‘ books.
And studying French and German.
I made it through college, then went to live in Europe, and embarked on the adventures that eventually made it into my novels. Especially ‘SISTERS AT WAR‘. The story of the Beaufort Sisters in Paris 1940 when the unthinkable happens to one of them… a violent sexual assault… and how it affects them both.
More later… and how I added my own life experiences to the story.
Jina
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#BoldwoodBirthday Boldwood Books
Once upon a story... 