A different story that seems absolutely great.
French Kiss by Gloria J. Goldsmith releases today in the Contemporary Romance genre.
I was DONE! I ditched graduation, dumped my repressed college boyfriend, and dropped my sexual insecurities for a wild ride with Destiny. Unpredictable Fate beckoned with a European adventure!
In a chance encounter, I met Jean Louis. From the instant we met, the dashing young Frenchman soothed my bruised heart, rejuvenated my spirit, and convinced me that leaving my old life was no mistake. Together, we set out to explore southern France.
Jean Louis was torn from my life almost as quickly as he had entered it, yet leaving the haunting memory of his caress permeating my every thought. Driven by love and passion, I journeyed to find my lover, even if it meant scouring all the hidden corners of France.
Would I ever reunite with the man I believe to be my one true soulmate? Would I ever hear him say he feels the same for me as I do him? What twist of Fate will it take for me to find him?
They said he was “very mean.” He threw people off the bus all the time. Some tried to speak what they could in English, to tell me this bus driver was evil. He would call the police!
I smiled and said with American confidence, “Pas d’aujourd’hui.” Not today.
The bus driver came back and again threatened to call the cops.
I said, “Ahh, M. chauffeur de bus, le flic, il viendra ici, il me dit, ‘Avez-vous un billet?’”
Ahh. Mr. Bus Driver, the cop, he’ll come here, he’ll say to me, ‘Do you have a ticket?’ I pretended to talk to an imaginary cop standing beside the bus driver.
“Et moi, moi je dis… And me, me I say…” I used my theater training to perfection. I put a finger in my cheek to make a pretend dimple and spoke in a honeyed, childlike voice in French.
“Oh, Monsieur Flic, bien sûr, j’ai un billet, avec la date et l’heure d’aujourd’hui, les mêmes que toutes les autres ici.” Oh. Mr. Cop of course, I have a ticket, with today’s date and hour, the same as all the others here. I leaned forward, acting as if I were whispering to the pretend cop. “Il est un peu malade, tsk, tsk.” He is a little sick, tsk, tsk. I twirled my index finger in a small circle, signaling the French gesture of “mental.”
All the bus riders burst out laughing at my sugar-coated, sweet face and voice to the imaginary cop. The red-faced bus driver threw his hands up and went to his seat. His arms across his chest, he stuck out his bottom lip in a Gallic pout and refused to move the bus for nearly ten minutes before finally giving up and moving off.
As each of the riders got off the exit by me, they patted my arm, smiled, and said things like, “Oh, you Americans, you are so amusing. Very good, very good!”
There were still about ten passengers when they got to my stop. I waved at the bus driver and shouted, “À demain!” Until tomorrow. He threw up his hand in a friendly salute before he remembered who I was, then flung his hand forward and scowled.
I laughed and shouted at him, “J’aime la France!” I love France!
In his big mirror at the front, I saw his eyebrows raise, and he lifted his head at me in agreement and gave a tiny smile.
Victory is sweet!
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
As a Special Education teacher, I became fascinated by the English language. I still marvel at how it changes and expands over time. My most pleasurable teaching moments were showing children how a wondrous story can take their imaginations to other times, places, even other worlds. When the pandemic began, I started my first foray into publishing⸺ a nonfiction book, The Sensible Parent’s Little Homeschooler Handbook.
My secret pleasure-writing has always been focused on romance. French Kiss is a Contemporary Romance based on a fictionalized version of experiences during eighteen months of living and working abroad before the formation of the European Union.
Next year, my first Historical Regency Romance That Wylde Woman will be published. It has allowed me to indulge my curiosity and enthusiasm for history by incorporating in the storyline a historical geologic event which affected weather and farming and even how England’s war with Napoleon impacted clothing styles.
Can we know something more about this mysterious hero?
Jean Louis is a quiet, humble, unassuming fellow. His opinions were slow to be expressed, but it was with conviction, with his whole heart when he spoke.
Jean Louis was on his way to India to find a spiritual mentor to delving into life’s meaning. He was ready to plunge into the transcendent world of Buddhism to see if his peaceful soul could explore the wisdom to be learned in this lifetime. Then he met Nora.
Nora was his first genuine male/female relationship. The school he attended in France was all male. His association with young ladies was minimal, mainly through neighbors or the sisters of friends. And at the Electrician training school, there were no females enrolled. His first job as a sound tech for a band brought him into contact with lots of women. But the somewhat shy Jean Louis did little more than share a few kisses.
Knowing more about his background now, this excerpt shows Jean Louis is a kind, loving man. India does not hold his interest any longer. What he is seeking, he is sure he has found:
There was only one window in the room, which had no screen. To keep out the bugs, we closed the shutter, which still allowed some air inside. That evening, I slept on the couch, right below the window, and the guys lay on the cement floor. The males had no blankets or sleeping bags, but at least they were out of the rain.
Some hours into the night, I was dreaming of Luke. Luke, who loved to tease me by fondling me when I was asleep, by touching my cheek or blowing a strand of hair, or slowly stroking my hand. I smiled and wiggled my fingers, and he responded. It was so lovely to feel his antics. I missed his night tricks. His hand was trailing up my arm, and soft lips kissed my palm. Luke. So romantic. Always waking me with kisses.
I let out a sigh, slowly drifting my eyes open. It seemed it had been forever since Luke had brushed my cheek or held me close. I longed for his warmth.
The room was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. I wasn’t on the waterbed. My heart pounded with alarm. Where am I? My arm was hanging over the side of a couch. Where the hell am I? It was pitch-black.
The fingers tickled a bit more with a kiss on my arm, then came a whisper. Was I dreaming? Or awake? The whisper came again.
I whispered back, “What?” I felt the side of the bed depress. The murmuring voice was now by my face.
“Oui. J’ai froid.”
This wasn’t Luke. Not my Luke. A bolt of recognition struck me hard as I comprehended. I didn’t recall his name, it did sound something like Luke, and it was the French guy Marc had brought in from the rain.
My high school French was twisting my brain cells to recall… J’ai means I am, right is droite, left is gauche…and a left faucet is chaud, which means hot, and right is froid—COLD. He is cold!
I patted the couch, and he squeezed onto the settee with me. He cuddled his arms around me, kissed my cheek, and we returned to slumber.
All three of us woke as the morning sunlight pierced the slits of the shutter. They bounced off the wall and into the room. We had some tea before the two men left. Around dinner time, Jean Louis returned alone, with sandwiches and chocolates. I had unknowingly passed another sex attraction test.
Constrained by the lack of English language skills, Jean Louis spoke very few words. I am an excellent mimic, but my French language skills were limited.
After dinner, sipping our tea, Jean Louis turned to me.
“I wants stay wis you.” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. For the evening? Sleep on the floor? Sleep with me?
“En bas?” I tapped the floor with my foot.
“Si je dois. Je préfère avec toi.”
I wasn’t sure about all the words, but the last two, avec toi, meant “with you.”
Sign up for the newsletter here: https://forms.gle/zVTgoHGeBnwF6s3v7
Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/GloriaJGoldsmith/
Amazon Author Page:
‘Romance Lives at the Bistro Fabrice’
This post is part of a tour. The tour dates can be found here:
- a $50 Amazon/BN GC