French Kiss by Gloria J. Goldsmith

 

Romance in the south of France? Yes, please! That's one of my favorite places! Check out an excerpt from the contemporary romance French Kiss by Gloria J. Goldsmith AND get a sneak peek into her newest book and series coming soon! Let her know what you think! And then be sure to follow the tour and enter the great giveaway!

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?

Read an excerpt:

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!

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My next book, That Wylde Woman! is a historical regency romance and the first book in the Wylde Hearts series.


Excerpt from Chapter 8…

He is either dim-witted or purposely intended it as a fraudulent act, hoping to get a settlement. It was the latter, she realized too late. He was undoubtedly sunk in dun territory and willing to do anything to be flush in the pocket. He turned red, then purple with anger, and howled with manufactured rage at her bravery.

"You have ignored all of my articulations. What better proof could I have? You have breached the bounds of cordiality; admonitions have repeatedly been ignored. You are a boorishly insistent, bloody fool."

Knowing he could get almost as far with the threat of assault charges or, instead, a pay-off for his injuries, he began yammering to draw witnesses while staring smugly at Marleigh. He was sure he had secured some money. A great deal of money.

" My arm! My limb! Look at the blood! I have no feeling in it. It will never be the same! You have ruined my thigh!"

He was bleating like a goat, getting louder at each word. They ranted on, both shouting at each other as Swansea circled around Marleigh like a predator stalking his prey.

A tall, dark man suddenly rose from a prone position on the chase when the two disputants came a bit too close for comfort. A few partygoers flooded onto the terrace, alerted by the loud voices to witness not a Lady being manhandled by a lout, but a man and woman in a genuine dispute slowly circling, arguing, nonstop, each trying to speak over the top of the other.

She, holding a sword, aimed defensively at the man. He, with blood dripping down his thigh. Both completely ignoring anyone else in the room and persisting in shouting derogatory epithets at each other. The tall man bolted to the doors, shooing the others back, closing the French doors quietly. Marleigh glimpsed his dark hair and thought he gave a stunning impression of a Greek warrior with a broad chest and narrow waist.

Swansea grasping that he had a "witness," suddenly became totally enraged. Clutching at his backside, he screamed toward the man, "Lady Marleigh has impaled me, sliced me open like a fish! I'm bleeding to death. If I should survive, I will forever walk with a limp."

Shaking a long bony finger at Marleigh, he lowered the timbre of his voice. "You are a monstrous she-devil! You beguiled me! You are at fault for this excessive, unprovoked attack! Draining my life-blood away! You have proven that you are a mere dim-witted woman! Such an unclean, vile, ignorant woman you attempt to attack my manhood, on the wrong side of the male anatomy!" She laughed sarcastically at his attempt to impune her knowledge of the male structure.

"Blood?" She laughed. "I'll show you Blood!" Swishing the blade as though it was a sword of justice, it hummed in the air, emphasizing each invective. She parried his every move.

"You deceitful, libelous, son of a sea cook! I'll show you dim-witted! I was going for your brain, which everyone knows, is stuffed up your arrogant ARSE!"

The Greek god-like male had to stifle a smile at that comment. She hadn't stripped the vanish, but she indeed had perceived her opponent correctly and had given an excellent verbal sally. The unknown witness decided it was time to stop Swansea, who apparently had no gentlemanly code and appeared to be readying for a pay-off.

"THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH!" rumbled Alexander Crofton loudly in his bottomless bass voice.

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.

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Website: https://gloriajgoldsmith.com/

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Email: gjgoldsmithauthor@gmail.com

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