International KISSING Day. Yes, it’s a real thing, and it graces our calendars each year on the 6th of July. If you’re like me, one of the world’s greatest holidays has been hiding right under your nose—which is fitting because you know what else is hiding right under your nose? . . . Eh, eh? (Here at MTP we come for the books and stay for the cheese. Check back next week for more grade-A puns.)
If you’ve ever breezed through our catalog, you’ll know that we MTP authors LOVE our romance, and what’s a great romance without an epic KISS? When we collectively decided to pull together excerpts featuring our smoochiest scenes, you can bet your sweet lips I was first to volunteer. Because, really, is there anything better than some solid smoochery on a Friday afternoon? (Of course there is, but not that we should be sharing on our public blog.)
Today, we’re featuring nine kissing excerpts from our ever-expanding catalog of Fantasy and SF so that you can get a taste of the writing styles of our various authors while taking in your fill of savory, emotional, angsty kisses. See one you like? Then we highly suggest checking out what else the book has to offer—we promise there’s much, much more we couldn’t show you.
Leave a comment below telling us your all-time favorite kissing scenes (we’re fangirls too), and be sure to drop your best ideas for future excerpt posts like this one.
Until next time (and with all the savory, emotional angst in the world), smooches!
Seeds of Sorrow by Elle Beaumont & Christis Christie
“Are you all right?” Draven breathed, slipping his hands to rest on either side of her waist.
The simple gesture was enough to undo her. Eden leaned forward, pressed her lips against his, and discovered what the king of Andhera tasted like.
She inhaled the metallic sweetness of him, and encouraged by his arms wrapping around her, she pressed on, allowing her tongue to slip into his mouth.
Draven groaned as Eden wound her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair as their bodies pressed closer than they had been on the dance floor. She moaned into his mouth as he pulled her hips flush against his and his hardened length pressed into her.
In all her life in Lucem, she had never been so heated. It spread from within, awakening a piece of her that had been asleep for far too long.
“Eden,” Draven rasped into her mouth, his grip tightening on her, which only brought forth moans of excitement.
Her name lingered on his lips, causing an ache to form in her body. “Draven, please,” she panted, uncertain of what she meant by it. But her body knew exactly what she meant. She wanted him to peel the layers of her clothing off and show her a world of pleasure as their skin melded with one another. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she lost herself in the feeling of his mouth on hers.
Come True: A Bomb-Ass Genie Romance by Brindi Quinn
I may be panting, and Velis, a being designed to draw out desire, is feasting on it, probing his hands over me, kissing my shoulder, my neck—
But if he doesn’t kiss my mouth soon, I’m going to die.
“Vel,” I breathe, “I wish you would—”
He seizes my mouth from behind. “You don’t have to wish for a thing like that.” He drags his fingers down my lips, peeling them away from my teeth before he spins me and bends me and gathers up my hair to steady my head while his shadow spreads over me.
He kisses my chin, withdrawing to examine my reaction with his perfect, chiseled face and those piercing, probing, delicious eyes.
What a TEASE.
Lapping it up, he moves in to kiss the corner of my mouth while my nails make his shirt pay for the angst he’s causing.
We don’t have time for this bullshit.
Unable to handle the flushing tension, I snap, forcing him to finish the job with my arms flung around his neck.
I always knew he had the perfect mouth for kissing, full and soft and grinning naturally between each connection.
He opens it to let me taste him, sliding warm against me, mixing with me, moving in unison with me, leaving me scorching each time his tongue passes mine. And to hear him breathe between each kiss, it’s like his breath carries a blueprint for what else he wants to do to me.
I’ve kissed . . . a fair amount of guys. One girl too.
Never has it felt like this.
With everything in me, I hope it feels the same for him.
He breaks to suck at my collarbone but doesn’t stray far, returning to my mouth and bending me over the rail, holding on tight to keep me from flying away. If this is what it’s like to kiss him, I can only imagine what the rest of him’s like.
I’m worried it’s going to ruin me.
Windsong by Stephanie E. Donohue
“I’m sorry,” the man whispered. He bent over and pressed a kiss to my cheek. His lips were warm, his beard tickled my skin.
I wanted more. I grasped his biceps and stood on my tip-toes, brushing my mouth against his. He shuddered, one arm twining around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. His other hand cupped my chin, his fingers caressing my skin as he deepened the kiss. His mouth was so soft. His hold so unbelievably gentle. The scent of snow, pine, and musk filled my nostrils. The bear’s scent. His scent. And, in that moment, I saw what could’ve been: he and I roaming these snowy hills. Not as bear and human, but as man and woman. Holding hands. Stealing kisses as we watched the sunset. My eyes burned as I dug my nails into his skin, holding on for dear life. In meeting the bear, I’d found things I didn’t know I needed. In discovering the man, I’d lost everything I didn’t know I wanted. The wolf howled again. The man pulled away with a whimper and ducked down and slipped his hands behind my knees. “Don’t you dare—” I started, but he was a lot bigger than me, a lot stronger, and he lifted me clean off my feet. “You need to leave,” he insisted as he tossed me onto the horse’s back. His fingers, already discolored from the cold, tightened around my gloved hand. “I enjoyed our year together, and you gave me fond memories to cherish. The best thing you can do for me now is get yourself to safety.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, giving me one last kiss before he whispered, “Goodbye.”
The PAN by Jenny Hickman
Vivienne’s breathing hitched. “Prove it.”
Deacon wanted to. But she had no idea what she was asking. “Vivienne, you’re drunk.”
“I’m tipsy but I’m not drunk.” Another poke. “And I want you to prove it.”
Prove it. Prove he wasn’t untouchable. Prove that all of this was for her. Prove that he couldn’t get her out of his head. Prove that his heart was in bloody ribbons in the snow. “That’s what I thought.” Vivienne’s lips curled into a derisive smile. “Go ahead and fly away, little boy who’ll never grow—”
His lips crashed against hers, and his hands tangled in her hair, and he dragged her back onto the snowy bench. His ass and back were getting soaked, but he didn’t give a shit because there was a beautiful girl on top of him, clinging to his collar like her life depended on it. And she tasted so damn good, like champagne and strawberries, and her tongue moved in and out of his mouth the way he wished he could be moving in and out of her body, and if he died now, he would die happy.
And when he thought it couldn’t get any better, she shifted so she was straddling him, and if he hadn’t invited so many damned people, he would have flown her straight up to his bedroom and proved exactly how he felt about her.
He’d missed her and he hadn’t even known what he’d been missing. And now that he’d found her . . . he wasn’t letting go.
The Syren’s Mutiny by Jessica S. Taylor
Consequences Be Damned
Caelum rose too, moving to stand in front of me. He brushed a strand of hair away from my face before tugging on one of the laces of the shirt I was wearing. His face moved close to mine as he whispered, “I’ll be needing this back, teine.”
My cheeks burned again, something they had been doing quite a bit since Caelum had come back into my life. Ignoring the voice in my head screaming that this was a bad idea, I turned my face closer to his until our cheeks were almost touching. I couldn’t resist feeling the heat of his skin radiating against mine. “Aye, you likely do.”
Locking gazes, we stood there for a heartbeat, looking at each other. The heat in the room was building at the same time the heat inside my own body grew. His eyes dipped down to my lips and all the air left the room. His voice was rough as he looked down at me, his eyes darkening. “Brigid.”
“Kiss me,” I whispered, tilting my face up towards him. Consequences be damned, I wanted to feel this man against me, and I wanted it now.
In an instant, one large hand threaded through my unbound hair to cup the back of my head and his lips crashed down on mine. His other hand grabbed onto the swell of my hip and pulled me closer to him as our mouths moved together, his days old stubble rubbing against my face roughly. My own hands reached up to grab at his chest, his shoulders, at anything, and he groaned into my mouth. His fingers explored and squeezed at my curves as he nipped at my lips and tugged at my hair. It was breathtaking, overwhelming, and like no kiss I had ever experienced before. He pulled back, as breathless as I was, and tilted his forehead down to rest against mine. Our breath intermingled as our chests heaved in unison.
“Now that’s a kiss,” he said hoarsely, rubbing a thumb over my swollen lips.
The Devil You Know by Nicole Northwood
Giselle heaves out a sigh before laughing, stepping across the atrium to meet me. We stand there awkwardly, unsure of what kind of greeting to offer one another, especially after the kind of moments we shared earlier in the day. The dynamic has changed, and we haven’t worked out the particulars. I suppose that’s what we’re here to do now. Sort out ourselves, between glasses of wine and my wild imagination.
I’m about to say that the wine is in the fridge if she wants any, but I don’t have a chance because Giselle covers my mouth with her own and kisses me, deep yet soft. I’m almost surprised by the action, thinking that she would be the one to want to talk about the earlier evening first. Yet, I allow myself to sink into her embrace, the scent of her hair—fruit and summertime—and her yellow floral shirt’s soft fabric. I let out a small moan that tangles with her own, like we desperately need to breathe the same air in order to satiate ourselves.
The Unicorn and the Clockwork Quest by Lou Wilham
No More Kisses
“You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?”
“I most certainly am not,” Agnes huffed a little, tilting his chin up.
“You are,” Sully insisted, pulling himself up to his full height so he was looking down on Agnes. He tilted Agnes’s chin back further so he could meet his eyes. Then he dipped down to press a chaste kiss to Agnes’s lips, craning his neck awkwardly so Agnes didn’t have to. “And I love you for it.”
A soft, happy murmur left Agnes before he pulled away from Sully’s hold on him.
“Nope. None of that. There is too much to do!”
“No more kisses?” Sully’s voice shook with a chuckle.
“Not... until we’re safe.” Agnes dropped Sully’s hand, and started back towards the cabins, his mind seemingly made up. “Now, come on. You have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Sully followed behind him, shaking his head fondly.
Lyrics and Curses by Candace Robinson
Taste the Lie
For the rest of the movie, they watched, sang along with the songs—or she and Imani did. Auden didn’t choose to join in with the singing parts or maybe he didn’t know the words. But toward the end, Auden tugged her jacket sleeve, stood, and tilted his head toward the exit.
Furrowing her eyebrows, Lark got up and followed him until they turned the corner. Without hesitation, he backed her up against the wall, and his lips pressed against hers. She kissed him back, desperation bubbling between them. She’d missed his lips, missed the way he could crowd her with his body while still allowing room to breathe. Missed his hands on her hips… All the water in the ocean couldn’t quench her thirst, but salt water wouldn’t help anyone. Melted glaciers couldn’t even satisfy her needs, either, at least not in the way Auden did in that moment.
Lark tugged him closer, but it wasn’t close enough. She kissed along his jaw, making her way to his ear. “Why did you come tonight?”
“Darrin wanted to,” Auden murmured.
“That’s the only reason?” She nibbled the tender spot right below his ear, and a deep shiver coursed through him.
Lark tasted his lie, unaware one little fib could taste so good. Heavy footfalls, thumping to the music of the rolling credits, drew near, and she shifted away from him. He brushed a thumb across her hand as she scooted closer to the carpeted wall.
The Siren’s Song by Heather Kindt
She set a hand on his arm. “I had fun tonight.”
His insides flipped with her words. To be the first to make an advance was also foreign to him. What if he messed up? What if he misread the signals? “I did, too.” He ran his fingers along the soft skin of her cheek, knowing he’d never tire of the delicious feeling of her skin touching his. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, the sweet scent intoxicating him. Without a word, she parted her lips to accept his kiss and every other exchange he’d ever had with a woman became meaningless.
Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling him closer, and intensifying the kiss. He suddenly felt her tongue graze his bottom lip, and he tumbled backwards into the room behind them. A heap of clothes broke his fall.
She laughed and his heart all but burst from the lithe melody of it. If love had a name, it would be Catron Vessel, for she had surely given him everything he could ever hope for in a partner.
Without a word, she swung her legs into the room and joined him on the ground. She continued where she had left off, most likely unaware of what part of the academy they were in. Her lips trailed from his mouth, to his jawline, to his neck, and back to his lips again.
A light flipped on, and Fivlon stood above them with groggy eyes and a blanket wrapped around his waist. “What the hell?”
Of all the rooms to land in. Azer cursed under his breath. His own dirty clothes surrounded him, piled up to be washed the next day.
“We’re sorry for waking you up,” Catron said, standing and attaching the clasp on her cloak at the neck. She cleared her throat, then held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve officially met, but I do believe this is the second time I’ve caught you without your shirt on."
. . . Lips. Lips are the other thing hiding under your nose. (I’ll see myself out now.)
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