Category Archives: Writing

Meet the Princess and the Stilettos for Valentine’s Day and “Virgin Kiss” short story

Valentine’s Day is here!

This is one of my favorite videos I made about princesses:

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And here is VIRGIN KISS

I wrote this fun short story about a high school freshman and her first kiss disaster — here’a preview of Virgin Kiss:

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Riley Murphy is 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.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

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 what if you have to pucker up in front of a live audience? What then?

Pass the Altoids, please.

The kiss-from-hell happened to me, Riley Murphy. Let me set the stage for you.

I was the new kid at Holywell High School, a shy, skinny freshman with cinnamon-colored freckles sprinkled across my nose. And flat-chested. Not exactly Miss Popularity with the bouncy boobs and flirty lashes. More like an olive stuck on the end of a toothpick.

Even with that dossier, I wasn’t a total dork. I’d gotten pecks on the cheek with quick brushes on the lips, but I’d yet to experience the soul-melting kisses you see in the flicks. The passionate lip-lock I dreamed about, wrote about in my diary. I pined for that kiss, but it didn’t happen. No doubt I’d be in graduate school facing lifelong debt before the right pair of lips met mine.

To overcome my shyness, my mom convinced me to try out for the Drama Club. Somehow I landed the leading role in a one-act Chekhov play. Yes, Chekhov. I played this mad, beautiful countess with passion and heart. I loved it. I came alive on stage. I could do anything, be anybody, say anything, I could—

—kiss the male lead?

A gangly sophomore named Harold Brimwell with long greasy hair and an upper lip curled in a perpetual snarl? He was going to anoint my virgin lips with my first big kiss?

Forget the Altoids. I needed a stress pill.

I quit the play. They could find another dupe. Not me. I wasn’t going to let him use my lips for kissing practice.

Then I heard this little voice in my head telling me this was acting, right? Going through the motions at rehearsals and on stage didn’t count on the kissing scale. I could pucker up with him and still be a kissing virgin.

After that, I sailed through rehearsals, knowing my lines, and “connecting to my character,” according to the director, who insisted on method acting. That’s how the trouble started. We didn’t rehearse the kiss. He wanted a real kiss on stage, he said, not some phony smooch.

I panicked. This was not what I’d planned. Worse yet, we opened on Valentine’s Day with a preview performance at the afternoon school assembly. Not only did I have to kiss this guy, I had to do it on the most romantic day of the year in front of the entire student body.

I dumped the Altoids down the toilet.

Valentine’s Day dawned rainy and cold. Perfect weather for a Russian play.

I arrived at the gym early, put on my makeup in the girls’ bathroom, then hooked up my long Victorian black lace dress, the silk petticoats rustling around my feet. I checked my props, including a dainty parasol, dueling gloves, and a small pistol. I saved putting on my lipstick for last. It had to be perfect.

First, I gargled mint-flavored mouthwash until my lips turned green and my mouth went numb. Next, I lined my lips with Chekhovian dark red lipstick and smacked my lips together. Perfect. I was ready for my lip close-up.

It’s showtime.

I was nervous when the lights came up, but after the first few minutes I relaxed. My training took over and I was “in the moment.” The dueling scene went off without the pistols misfiring and that meant it was time for…

the kiss.

My co-star walked toward me with that “I’ve got you now” look fired up in his eyes, his lower lip snarling. I freaked. My stomach did flip-flops. My teeth chattered. My mouthwash stopped working.

It was so quiet in the high school gym you could hear the director chewing on the end of his pencil. My heart pounded as I held my breath when he pulled me into his arms and—

—slammed his mouth into mine. Bile rose in my throat as he pushed my lips apart and thrust his mushy, saliva-coated gum into my mouth, making me nauseous. Then he shoved his tongue down my throat, nearly gagging me. I started choking.

I can’t breathe. I thought I was going to pass out, but I was determined not to faint. I had to get him off me.

With stars circling my pounding head, I pulled up my strength and kicked him in the shin. Startled, he jerked backward, but not before he bit my lower lip. I tasted blood, but it wasn’t over.

He held me tighter, slobbering all over me, licking my face, my throat, coating my skin with stringy gum. The audience went crazy, yelling and shouting like they were at a basketball game and I was the bouncing ball.

I had to do something. Fast.

The pistol.

I panicked. Where was it? After the mock dueling scene, I threw the prop gun down on the round table. It had to be there, but where?

I reached out behind me, my nails catching on the lace doily, edging the gun toward me, an inch at a time. Sweat oozed down my too-tight collar and my knees started to buckle, but I didn’t give up. I couldn’t let him take advantage of me.

Almost got it…there. My fingers wrapped around the pearl-inlayed handle. Without losing my nerve, I grabbed the pistol and jammed the prop into his ribs. Hard. I yanked my body with such fury, I ripped the black lace sleeve out of the armpit. It slid down my shoulder, but that didn’t stop me.

“Get your hands off me, you sloppy kissing, gum-chewer!” I yelled, ignoring the script and re-writing Chekhov. “Or I’ll plug you.”

The director gasped. Loudly.

“Yeah, sure,” Harold stuttered, letting me go, and then backing away. “Anything you say.”

“That’s telling him!” someone yelled from the audience.

Amy Zanderbar. His ex-girlfriend.

Seems I hit a nerve with the females sitting in the bleachers who’d had their share of bad kissers. They loved it. The audience started clapping wildly and stomping their feet, shouting for me to let him have it.

I was tempted to push him off the stage and give them what they wanted, but my thespian instincts kicked in and I got back into character, giving Chekhov his due and ending the play as he’d written it.

The poor darling. I’m certain he had a restless sleep in his grave that night.

We performed the one-act play for the next few nights without further incident, faking the kiss each time. My co-star was cool, not attempting any more way-out kissing. For me, it was strictly acting. As far as I was concerned, I was still a virgin in lip-land.

I haven’t forgotten that 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, as time went by, I did find the right pair of lips to land that first kiss. A hottie senior. Jack Dayne. Sexy and perfect.

And when I did, I discovered a kiss isn’t just a kiss, it’s…

magic.

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PS — yes, Riley is me, a shy freshman back in the day.

I still remember the black-beaded Victorian dress I wore when I performed the part of Elena.

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My High School Kissing Disaster on Valentine’s Day

What if your first kiss, and I mean your Virgin Kiss was just plain awful?

Meet Riley Murphy — you won’t believe her high school kissing disaster in Virgin Kiss

A very short kissing story I wrote.

I bet we all remember teenage angst…there’s nothing more angsty (if there is such a word) than that first kiss. Even worse is when it’s not your dream guy.

It’s the guy in the school play.

And boy, does he have ‘tude. Like, power play to the max.

Riley almost lets him get the best of her, then she does something that empowers her in front of the whole school. Find out what that is in Virgin Kiss. I’ll post the short story in its entirety on Valentine’s Day!

Or: you can watch it on my Instagram Page in Parts — up to Part 8 today.  

I wrote this before the #MeToo movement, but it was never more true today as the heroine fights back against this snarky guy in a funny and humorous way. And with a Chekhov play, too!

PS — I still remember the black-beaded Victorian dress I wore when I performed the part of Elena. Yes, Riley is me.

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Riley Murphy is 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.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

 

Photo and Music Credits:
Photos: http://www.Dreamstime.com
Music: Sweeter Vermouth Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)

 

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Valentine’s Day “Virgin Kiss” preview on Instagram

Valentine’s Day is coming!!

I wrote this fun short story about a high school freshman and her first kiss disaster — here’a preview of Virgin Kiss:

Riley Murphy is 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.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

Photos: http://www.Dreamstime.com
Music: Sweeter Vermouth Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)

And here is Part 1:

View this post on Instagram

Virgin Kiss Part 1 #Valentine

A post shared by Jina Bacarr (@jinabacarr) on

A Purple Dragon, a Princess, and a fairy tale ending . . .

I love dragons. Pink, blue, green, purple like our friend here. Our princess is reading a fairy tale to him. Hmm. Once upon a time there was a dragon who was in love with a princess. I wonder what happens . . .

Does he turn into a prince?

If frogs can do it, why not a dragon?

 

I have no doubt our purple dragon turns into a prince…how about you?

Catching up with my Vision Board 2019 and Making Dreams Come True

I’m honored that Joyce Schwarz invited me to part of her Vision Board book. Check out my Instagram video for more info and here’s a preview of her book:

and ————

Here’s my Instagram video for Make Your Dream Come True Day — check out the fun pix I added to the graphic. Love the one with me and the crystal ball.

Poetry at Work Day and the Frog who makes dreams come true

Poetry at Work Day:

The art of writing fairy tales is a joy I claim.

But frog or toad, what’s in a name?

’Tis a prince I seek at the end of my tale

And that happily ever after, but to no avail

Ah, but yes have I the power of the pen So with my snappy keystrokes

Poof! I say. He’s here. Amen!

Who’s that cute little frog sitting on my typewriter? Could he be a prince?

(check out the prince in my next video below)

View this post on Instagram

Here is the prince from my #poetryatworkday video

A post shared by Jina Bacarr (@jinabacarr) on

 

What our Happy New Year Fairy and Cinderella have in common

Guess what our New Year’s fairy borrowed from Cinderella for our video?

Happy New Year 2019, everyone!!

Jina

So excited for the new year and hope all your writing wishes come true

I’m no angel . . . when it comes to Brownies

I’m no angel when it comes to brownies…

I love, love them!! Especially homemade when the chocolate ganache icing gets all gooey when you spread it over the warm brownie. ”

Who can wait to let them cool? Back to writing . . .

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No brownies left! Guess I’ll have to make some more…

I love “Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day”

Come along with me on our own time machine back to the Battle of Antietam in 1862

It’s getting to be a habit with me.

Time travel, that is.

First, I went back to Paris 1889 in my erotic romance Naughty Paris.

Then back to 1862 during the Civil War in Love Me Forever. (on sale December 8, 2018 for 99 cents)

And I’ve finished a WW 2 Christmas time travel back to 1943, and just sent off a proposal for a fairy tale time travel romance with a heroine who goes back to 1889 to become Cinderella.

It ain’t easy traveling through time. You leave your old life behind when you’re a time traveler.

Like all those dumb texts you sent…the gossip at work about you and the cute delivery guy. Googling yourself.

And you know what’s going to happen tomorrow…next week, next year. Especially when it’s well documented like the Civil War.

That’s the case for Liberty Jordan, the heroine in my Civil War time travel LOVE ME FOREVER. In this excerpt, she finds herself pondering the events yet to come…while ogling the sexy Union Army surgeon quizzing her:

Liberty sat up straighter, her mind racing. But she had the advantage. As if each fleeting moment gave her the strength to go on. She knew what was going to happen. They didn’t. The war would drag on for three more years. Lincoln was alive and so was Grant, and a young woman named Louisa May Alcott was playing games with her sisters in an attic. And somewhere on a stage, an actor named Booth had no idea his infamous role in history was yet to come.

She could use that information to find her way back to her own time.

Then her mind circled back to the present. She looked into the major’s dark, probing eyes, his passion for medicine fascinating her. His good looks sending a thrill through her.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, Lieutenant.”

“What?” she asked.

“Where did you get that bandage?”

“Like I told you, it came with my uniform.” Liberty sighed, exasperated. He’d never believe the truth.

“You Southerners are full of tricks, but I won’t let that stop me.”

She blinked. Did he know she was a woman? What if he tried to seduce her?

The peculiar thought played with her mind in such a way that both frightened and intrigued her. Took her adventure into a whole new dimension. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him. He deliberately offered her a challenge. Adjusting to life in this time could prove interesting with the handsome major.

Her life, after all, was in his hands.

LOVE ME FOREVER

She wore gray.confessions_TT
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

 

Love_Me_Forever_500x798

LOVE ME FOREVER is a saga of love and romance and war. Believe me, I walked every road, fought every battle with my characters, even walked around in a hoop skirt to “get it right.”

This is a book of the heart…any questions? Please ask!!

Thank you for stopping by.

Jina

 

 

Pink Hibiscus: An Army Nurse’s letter to her sister on December 7, 1941

pink_hibiscus_pretty_nurse

If you like stories about love, war, and medicine, check out my Civil War time travel romance, LOVE ME FOREVER – a Civil War medical drama that takes place in 1862 in Virginia in a plantation turned into a hospital.

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

December 7, 1941

7:30 a.m.

Dear Peggy,

I’m bustin’ with news to tell you, little sister. I only have a few minutes before my shift at the hospital starts, pink_hibiscus_couple_moonso bear with me. I don’t know where to begin. It all happened so fast. I met Jimmy at the Officers’ Club when I first got here last summer and the handsome Army Air Force lieutenant asked me to dance. The band was playing Moonlight Serenade and before I knew it he had his arms around me, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

Then he kissed me.

Oh, it was so romantic. The warm night breeze blowing in off the ocean, the smell of pink hibiscus making me wild with desire, his hand reaching under my long evening gown and sliding up my thigh. Then he picked me up in his arms and carried me down to the beach and we…

7:45 a.pink_hibiscus_nurse_phonem.

Sorry, I got called away by the nurse-in-charge. She was worried about a patient wheezing and coughing. She thought it might be pneumonia. Just a couple of nurses on duty this morning, so she asked me to help her with paperwork. I was disappointed, seeing how I haven’t had much chance to use my nursing skills since I’ve been here. Still, Pearl is the best duty an Army nurse could wish for. We get a few pilots scraped up after a rough landing or with a bad hangover, but it’s mostly sunny days and balmy nights.

I bet you and Mom were all bundled up when you did this year’s Christmas shopping at Wanamaker’s. I love walking down Market Street with all the holiday decorations. The soft, white snow landing on top of the pretzel man’s cart. The hot cocoa with Mom’s fresh whipped cream. I miss you and the family so much, but don’t worry about me, I’m having the best time of my life. I’ve nearly worn out the soles on my new high-heeled pumps dancing every night with Jimmy.

Here’s my news, he…

7:55 a.m.

Something’s happening, Peggy, something awful. Sirens going off, a loud explosion, and everyone’s scrambling. I’ll write more later. I’ve got to get back to my patients. They’re jumping out of bed and yelling for their pants.

We’re under attack . . . oh, God, what’s happening?

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11:30 p.m.

It’s over. For now.

A mad, insane day that I shall never forget . . .

But my job is just beginning. I wish I could call you on the telephone and hear your voice, tell you that I’m okay, but that’s impossible, so I’ll write everything dopink_hibiscus_nurse_clipboardwn as fast as I can. Here’s what happened earlier today on December 7, 1941 . . .

The second wave of the surprise attack lasted until nearly 10 a.m. I haven’t stopped since then and I’d still be racing from one patient to the next if the nurse-in-charge hadn’t insisted I get some rest.

First, I’ll give you detailed account before I grab a few minutes of sleep, then go back on duty. My thoughts are scattered, so bear with me.

By the time you read this, you’ll know the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on a quiet Sunday morning at 7:55 a.m. I was recording a patient’s vitals when a soldier with a broken leg asked me to help him stand up. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked real nervous. Said he heard something that didn’t sound right. Planes flying overhead that weren’t ours. I thought he was joking, then I looked out the big, square hospital window—

Oh, my God, Peggy, I don’t know how to describe what I saw. Planes roaring overhead with red suns emblazoned on them. Loud, ear-splitting explosions. Black plumes of smoke swirling into the sky like a death flower.

It was maddening. Fear choked my throat. My body went numb. Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks. I

wiped them away with defiance.

Nurses don’t cry.pink_hibiscus_nurse_soldier

I let go with a long shudder. I don’t know what came over me. Fear, I guess, but I was okay now. Duty came first. This was what I’d spent years studying for, watching, observing, the sleepless nights working in the emergency room in the big Philadelphia hospital. It all came together for me in that moment.

Thank God.

Within minutes, the wounded came pouring in. Carried in on anything sturdy enough to hold them. The sound of antiaircraft fire ringing in our ears, bombs exploding outside and shaking the walls. I don’t want to shock you, but you and those at home must know what we’re up against in this war. The pain, the horror. Men missing limbs. Bloodied wounds. Ugly burns with exposed flesh. Others in shock. We had no electricity, no elevators to transport the wounded to surgery. Not enough nurses. Supplies running out fast.

But we did it. We saved as many lives as we could and prayed for those we couldn’t.

I went from one patient to the next, never stopping until—

I saw him. My lieutenant. Carrying a wounded soldier on his back, blood splattered all over his uniform.

“Jimmy, Jimmy!” I yelled out, trying to get his attention.

pink_hibiscus_hugging“Kitty . . . ” He looked so relieved to see me it made me tear up. I could see in his eyes he wanted to hold me close to him, never let me go. I wanted to feel his warmth, smell his woodsy, masculine scent. Prove to myself

he was here, alive.

My patient came first.

After I stabilized the wounded man, Jimmy held me in his arms and pulled off my nurse’s cap, and then ran his fingers through my hair.

“Thank God, you’re okay, Kitty,” he said, his lips brushing my cheek. He told me we lost several battleships and more than a hundred planes, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He was going to get into the air no matter what he had to do. Drive all over the island until he found a P36 gassed up and ready to go.

He cupped my chin and said,  “I’ll be seeing you, babe.”

I smiled up at him. “I’ll be waiting.”

Then he left. I blew him a kiss. I knew what he was thinking. He had his job and I had mine. Whatever words and soft kissepink_hibiscus_flags we’d exchanged under the swaying palms would have to wait.

We were at war.

And God willing, we’d be together again soon.

But nothing will erase what happened here on this Sunday morning at Pearl Harbor, the sun bright yellow and hot. Then the sky became dark with enemy planes set on destroying us and our way of life. My heart is so heavy with the pain of what I saw today. The suffering and the dying. It’s my job and the job of every serviceman and woman to stop them before they reach our home shores.

You have a job, too, Peggy. Take care of Mom and Dad, and tell them not to worry about me. I know everyone will do whatever they can so our fighting men can return home safe.

I can’t wait until I see you all again. When this horrible mess is over, we’ll sit under the old apple tree and eat bonbons and I’ll show you the prettiest engagpink_hibiscus_kissingement ring you ever saw. Yes, that’s my surprise. Jimmy asked me to marry him.

Till then, little sister, pray for me. And our boys fighting what some say will be a long, hard battle. But we’ll win. We have to. For the sake of free men and women everywhere.

Love, your big sister,

Kitty

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World War 2 women soldiers

I hope you enjoyed reliving the events of December 7, 1941 through Kitty’s eyes. She came to me in an instant when I wanted to write a tribute to the brave men and women at Pearl Harbor and told her story to me. I couldn’t type fast enough…

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Thank you for stopping by! If you like WW 2 romance, check out my holiday novella that takes place on Christmas Eve during the cold winter of 1943: “A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.”

A Soldier’s Italian Christmas from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

December 1943 Italy

He is a U.S Army captain, a battle-weary soldier who has lost his faith. She is a nun, her life dedicated to God. Together they are going to commit an act the civilized world will not tolerate. They are about to fall in love.

Winner in the Novella Category in the I Heart Indie contest

A Soldier’s Italian Christmas is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited

~Jina

Also, my Civil War medical drama:

Women Soldiers in the Civil War from “Love Me Forever” from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

LOVE ME FOREVER is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited and is on sale December 7-9 for 99 cents!!

Christmas during the Civil War in 1862 from “Love Me Forever” from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

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Southern Belle and Spy: Excerpt from LOVE ME FOREVER from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

Featured Image -- 2069If you love Civil War romance and time travel and TWO hunky military heroes, check out my Kindle Scout winner:

LOVE ME FOREVER  on SALE for 99 cents until December 9, 2018

She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war.
And time.

 

 

 

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And finally, a word about my Christmas time travel WW 2 novel: I’ve submitted my women’s fiction story about a woman in 1955 who goes back in time to Christmas 1943 to save the man she loves from being killed in the war — it’s on submission at a trad publishing house. When I have news, I’ll be bursting to share it with you!

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“Christmas Once and Again”

On a cold December day in 1955, I got on a train to go back home for Christmas.

This is the story of what happened when I got off that train.

In 1943.

The “Mistletoe Flyer” is a magic train that goes back in time to 1943…

 

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