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What if your first kiss was just plain awful? Virgin Kiss FREE Feb for Valentine’s Day!

Royal Kiss promo 60sec 1 from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

I’ve been writing about teenage angst in Royal Kiss…there’s nothing more angsty (if there is such a word) than that first kiss. So for Valentine’s Day, here’s a short story about that FIRST KISS. Grab your FREE copy of VIRGIN KISS, a YA very short story.

~Jina

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Virgin_Kiss (2014_09_10 01_32_35 UTC)What if your first kiss, and I mean your VIRGIN KISS was just plain awful?

That’s what happened to Riley Murphy, a new student at Holywell High.

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 Luke Vanmeer 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.

Find out what  happens when Luke tries to embarrass Riley on stage in front of the whole school… VIRGIN KISS is FREE Feb 14-15th on Kindle!! VIRGIN KISS is a YA very short story.

And check out the video with Riley:

Virgin Kiss from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

Don’t forget VIRGIN KISS is FREE Feb 12-15th!!

================

Featured Image -- 2069

 

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

LOVE ME FOREVER

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

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

 

 

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My Wild Elevator Ride #shortstorysunday

Wild_Elevator

I love to write stories and sometimes those stories take a long time to write. My Civil War time travel romance, LOVE ME FOREVER, took me three years to write before it was selected as a Kindle Scout winner. I’m very proud of that.

But writers do get lonely. So I came up with this fun character who is a writer and what happens when she goes out into the world and goes on a wild elevator ride…

I hope you enjoy my short story.

~Jina

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My Wild Elevator Ride

I work in a cubicle surrounded by books, computers, and ideas.

I get lonely.

Very lonely. Hey, a girl can only fantasize so much about meeting a sexy guy who’ll knock her bunny slippers off. (Crazy, but I don’t wear shoes when I’m writing.)

So when I go out, which isn’t often when you’re trying to promote your work online and get through the quagmire of the first chapter in your next book, I get talkative.

Very talkative.

It goes back to junior high and the austere looks and extra homework laid on anyone who talked in Mr. Hamm’s second period geography class. I can name every state capital forwards and backwards because he gave me so much homework for my extracurricular talking in class. By the middle of the semester, I’d learned my lesson, but ever since then when my goddess gets her gab on, I can’t stop her.

My therapist says it’s repressed speech syndrome ad finitum. Or something like that.

Anyway, I got in over my head when I walked into the elevator in my hotel. I was in town to speak at a writer’s group which always makes me a nervous wreck. I was going through my usual ritual to calm my nerves. A six-pack of diet soda and dark chocolate.

The only problem was, the soda was warm.

I like ice. Cold, numbing ice. Makes me forget I have to face a room of creative ladies who are probably way more talented than I am, but for some reason they think I’m cool. I just got lucky, I tell them, but yeah, I earned my stripes in this business. Writing, getting rejections for years, and working my butt off. I’m grateful to be where I am.

So what I didn’t need was a guy chatting me up about his hundred thousand dollar a year sales job and his black BMW. Nice enough, but I wasn’t looking for anything more than an ice machine that worked.

The one on my floor was broken.

Now I was stuck in an elevator with a sales guy who had obviously removed the wedding band from his left hand. His tan line blinked at me like a neon sign. Come on in, it seemed to say, the water’s fine.

I don’t swim with the sharks.

“You don’t want to drink alone,” he said, observing my ice bucket filled with chilled cubes.

“I have my laptop for company.” I smiled. “Besides, I have work to do.”

“Are you here with the software convention?” he asked warily.

“Well…” I wasn’t, but I decided to play along.

“No way…a pretty girl like you can’t be a techie.”

“Why not?” I shot back, perturbed. I hated guys who put down a girl’s ambition. “Can’t women use their brains to get ahead?”

“Not when they have natural attributes…” He eyed my chest. Mind you, I was wearing navy blue sweats and my pink bunny slippers with floppy ears. This guy was either desperate or he’d been on the road too long.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, “but I’m a writer.”

“You’re kidding?” He seemed genuinely surprised, which didn’t help my ego. “What do you write?”

Ooh...I couldn’t resist shooting him the punchline.

“I write sexy novels.”

“Well, you are full of surprises,” he said, edging closer to me. “We should get to know each other better.”

The air in the elevator suddenly got stuffier and I prayed my deodorant didn’t work so he’d get the message. So far, no one else had gotten on the elevator and I had two more stops before we got to my floor.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I wiggled the ears on my rabbit slippers, hoping to shoot down this guy’s sex-o-meter. That should have stopped him right there.

It didn’t.

“How about a nightcap in my room? My bottle of bourbon and your—” He paused, wetting his lips. “Ice cubes.”

“You mean do research for my books?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“I bet,” I said.

I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but sometimes we writers just ache to act like our heroines and throw back those snappy remarks. I tried to discourage him, but when he started breathing in my face, I knew I was in over my head. I did what any romance heroine would do.

I dumped the bucket of melting ice on his pinstripe suit.

“Hey, what the—” he called out and thank God, the elevator door opened. It wasn’t my floor, but I didn’t care. One more minute with Mr. BMW and I would have ended up served on a chilled platter.

Before he could brush the ice off his shoulders, out I ran. Down the long corridor and then I jammed down the stairway to the next floor to my room.

I never looked back.

I imagine that was the last time he tried to pick up a girl in an elevator wearing pink bunny slippers.

==============

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

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

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

Ride, Baby, ride…my excellent Paris adventure #shortstorysunday

ride_baby_ride

His name was Romain and I was in Paris on a summer break from college when he nearly ran me over with his motorcycle. Okay, it was my fault since I was ogling this gorgeous hunk of masculinity in his ripped T-shirt and tight jeans and I got too close to the curb and stumbled into the street.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” he said, knowing he wasn’t to blame, but taking it on the chin anyway.

Brooding dark eyes with unruly dark hair gave him an outlaw look. Sitting astride his big motorcycle, he glared at me, his strongly arched brows furrowed as if he were sizing me up. I felt naked under his penetrating gaze. And I liked it. I was sure the gods watching over lonely college co-eds in strange lands had sent him to me.

How could I resist when he offered me a ride?

We became a twosome that summer. Inseparable day and night. I have no doubt he drove the fastest, sleekest motorcycle in Paris. Speeding up and down the bustling Boulevard Saint-Germain and the Latin Quarter with me on the back. A long, crusty baguette in one hand, holding onto his muscular bod with the other.

My fingers seeking his hard chest through the holes in his ripped T-shirt.

Ah, yes, the moments memories are made of.

“Hold on tight, ma chérie,” he yelled into the wind scented with the lingering perfume of lost queens and courtesans. Even the smoky exhaust couldn’t mask it. “I’m going to put pedal to the metal, as you Americans say.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I snuggled up close to him. Damn, I loved the feeling I got hugging his body. The strong musky smell of his maleness hit my nostrils, reminding me of the sultry nights I’d spent in his arms in my tiny hotel room on the rue du Sommerard…our bodies twisted together in harmony, him whispering words of endearment in French, me wishing I’d paid more attention in French class.

M. Appel, my professor, would have raised an aristocratic eyebrow and tapped his pointer on the edge of my nose. “Bien, mademoiselle,” I could hear him say. “I told you someday you’d regret not studying your French idioms.”

So be the folly of youth.

But Romain and I didn’t have trouble communicating between the sheets. I was tempted to tell that to M. Appel when the fall quarter started. In three weeks. Till then, Romain was all mine.

“Bon,” the sexy Frenchman said, shifting his weight on the leather seat of his motorcycle and pushing his butt into my groin, sending me to paradise. “Let me show you Paris like you’ve never seen her.”

Off we went.

We rode around Paris on his big, sexy motorcycle. Up the steep hills of Montmartre and past Sacré-Cœur, then the fancy boutiques on the rue de Rivoli before zooming under the bridges where the homeless of Paris sought refuge from the chaos above.

As they had for hundreds of years.

Every day, we stopped under the bridge and brought fresh baguettes to the people huddled there. Gathered around the burning flame in the old metal trashcan, eking out an existence. I had no idea Paris had so many les exclus, as they were called. It broke my heart. I saw them begging on church steps, at train stations, in the park with the carousel.

Romain told me his family was once homeless after his father died. His mother and three little sisters lived under the bridge when he was fifteen and they couldn’t find room in a shelter. He worked as a laborer till his hands bled so he could get them a tiny apartment. Over the years, he worked even harder to better himself, go to university and, now in his late twenties, he had his dream bike.

He rode it everywhere.

His muscular arms and big hands maneuvering his lean, mean machine through ancient narrow streets and back alleys. Me on the back. His strong torso crushing my breasts, his hips grinding against mine, his body heat so wonderfully intense, I melted into him. By the time I had to go home to the States, I’d ripped apart half a dozen of his T-shirts with my nails. Holding onto him. Wanting him.

And when we made love at night, he rode…mais non, that’s my little secret.

A summer in Paris I’ll never forget.

===================

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

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

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

What if your first kiss was just plain awful? Virgin Kiss FREE today for “Do Something Nice Day”

do_something_nice_day

Be an Angel…Do Something Nice Day!

I’ve been posting about teenage angst…there’s nothing more angsty (if there is such a word) than that first kiss. So on Do Something Nice Day, I want to do something for you guys. Grab your FREE copy of VIRGIN KISS, a YA very short story. And don’t forget to do something nice today. Smile at your cranky boss, help the office gossip with her filing. Buy that handsome guy standing in line behind you at Starbucks a cup of coffee.

And don’t be surprised if you asks you for a date.

You never know. It could happen on Do Something Nice Day!

~Jina

===============

Virgin_Kiss (2014_09_10 01_32_35 UTC)What if your first kiss, and I mean your VIRGIN KISS was just plain awful?

That’s what happened to Riley Murphy, a new student at Holywell High.

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 Luke Vanmeer 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.

Find out what  happens when Luke tries to embarrass Riley on stage in front of the whole school… VIRGIN KISS is FREE Monday, October 5th on Kindle!! VIRGIN KISS is a YA very short story,

And check out the video with Riley:

Virgin Kiss from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.

Don’t forget VIRGIN KISS is FREE Monday October 5th!!

================

Featured Image -- 2069

 

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

LOVE ME FOREVER

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

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

 

 

Name Your Stud…I mean, Name Your Car Day and a very short story…Terry and Me and a Hot Car

name_your_car_day

TERRY AND ME AND A HOT CAR, a very short story

I crushed on a guy in high school who drove the coolest car and wore the coolest black leather jacket.

You couldn’t miss him or his muscle car in the campus parking lot. Before school, after school…during classes. Yes, Terry was a bad boy. The kind teenage crushes are made of. But he always smiled at me. A freshman. Ponytail swinging, arms filled with books. Once he even picked up my red Algebra book when I bumped into a lamppost while I was staring at him.

“You gonna need this class, kid,” he said, smiling at me with twin dimples, “to go to college.”

“Nah, I’m going to be a writer,” I said with the confidence of a fourteen-year-old with big dreams.

“Still, you gotta pass all your classes.” He opened the math book. My test paper with big fat “D” fell out. He shot me a look that would melt the panties off a mannequin. “This ain’t gonna get you into college, kid.”

“So?”

“We’re going for a ride.”

I freaked. Was that my heart pounding? My face sweating, I wet my lips, trying to look all sexy-like. It didn’t work. The only extra-curricular activity on Terry’s mind was putting pedal to the metal and revving up my brain for algebra.

“You remind me of myself, kid,” he said, shifting into high gear. I was riding shotgun and praying someone would see me with him.

“Yeah?” I said, scooting over closer. I could scarcely breathe when my knee touched his for a nanosecond.

He didn’t say a word, but jammed on the gas and we took off like a fire rocket. If I hadn’t had my seatbelt on, I would have ejected.

“Yeah. You’re a loner. Hanging out in the library during lunch, reading all the time.” He made a right turn so fast I swore we were taking the corner on two wheels. “You have a family?”

I nodded. As normal as pancakes and bacon strips on Sunday, I wanted to tell him, but I was too embarrassed, so I made up a story. “My dad is a roadie with a band so I never see him.” He was actually a sales rep for a bank and traveled a lot.

Terry lifted a very sexy right brow, as if to say, Yeah, right, and then got all serious. “I don’t have a family, really. Wish I did. But that’s not what’s important, kid. Your math class is.”

He pulled into a big park with thick trees and sunshine poking its nose through the branches. We sat in his car that day and other days after school. Him drilling me on algebra equations, x+y  and all that jazz. Me, drooling over him.

I was totally in love.

With a senior.

But Terry had the hots for a cheerleader. No surprise here. But she wouldn’t give him the time of day. I wanted to run up to her and say, “Hey, what’s a matter? Isn’t he good enough for you?”

The truth was, Terry was smart (the way he aced those math equations proved that), but he didn’t go to class. The gossip mill said it was because his dad was always drunk and hit him. So he was like on this rebellion against society.

But he always found time to help me with my algebra. Made me study until I got it.

I scored an “A” in the class.

Then one day, I didn’t see Terry or his hot car in the campus parking lot. I panicked. I wasn’t worried about math or my grade or even riding in his car.

I was scared shitless about him.

I found out later Terry took a swing at his old man when his father hit his mom. Hurt her bad. Terry didn’t wait for answers. He took his mom to an abused women’s shelter and left town. Word was that he joined the army. I was sad, but happy for him. I’d hoped he found the family he was looking for among his fellow brothers in arms.

Soon after I got a postcard from him from some faraway place. Said life was good and he’d sold his car to help his mom get out on her own. I was so proud of him. I knew how much that car meant to him.

Then nothing from him.

Months later, the town was buzzing with news.

Terry was killed on a routine patrol. The bad boy with the good heart had taken a hit.

I was devastated. Didn’t sleep, eat.

But I did my math homework.

For Terry.

Knowing he was up there in heaven.

Wearing that black jacket of his.

And jamming through those pearly gates in his hot car.

A hero.

===================

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

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

LOVE ME FOREVER is now available from Kindle Press at Amazon.com

Valentine’s Day for a Princess and a Kissing Virgin

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

I’ve got not one but two special videos today to celebrate the holiday.

First is my video poem: The Princess and the Stilettos.

The story of the princess and the stilettos…and how she found her prince is a Valentine’s Day video poem told in rhyme and pictures with music and my voiceover.

Photos: www.Dreamstime.com
Music: Fairytale Waltz Kevin MacLeod (www.incompetech.com)

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And second is Virgin Kiss, a very short story FREE this weekend on Amazon Kindle (Feb 14-16):

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: www.Dreamstime.com

Music: Sweeter Vermouth Kevin MacLeod (www.incompetech.com)

Enjoy!
Jina

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