Nothing is more exciting that the first time a hero and heroine meets face to face in their book. It might be a “cute meet” or an “omnious meet.” But the first time is magical for both the couple and for their author. My favorite “meet” is anything but cute. In Only Scandal Will Do, the heroine has just been auctioned off to the hero for a night’s pleasure in a brothel. When he comes to take possession of his “goods” he finds he’s gotten more than he bargained for. 🙂
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Someone fumbled with the door. She recognized the scratchy voice of the shorter kidnapper even through the wood, and darted toward the washstand.
The door opened as Kat skidded to a halt in front of a tall, cloaked and masked form.
One glimpse of the monstrous figure sent her scream echoing in the small room. She fled backward until she splayed against the wall, trapped. The dark shape advanced with frightening speed, cape billowing, the golden mask of a lion’s head glinting in the candlelight.
Flattened against the cold plaster as the towering apparition rushed toward her, she willed herself to vanish through the wall like a ghost. It reached a finger out and stroked her hair. A normal hand, thank God. The arm that disappeared into the black folds was clothed in dark red fabric of excellent quality. He was just a man. She lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.
“Who are you, sir?”
“Your master, slave.”
Harsh words cloaked in a voice of deep velvet. A shiver of dread raced down Katarina’s body, as much from the words as from his tone. She gathered her courage and replied, “I am nobody’s slave. There has been a dreadful mistake.”
“I think not, my lovely. I paid a small fortune for your ownership this evening. Make no mistake about that.” He continued to stroke her hair and she twisted her head to the side. His mouth below the half mask twitched into an insolent smile. “I am pleased, however, that you possess courage as well as beauty.” His fingers touched her cheek. “The mask hid the slave’s wealth well.”
She jerked away. “You may have paid for a slave, sir, but what you find in this room is a lady in distress. Will you prove a gentleman or a rogue?”
“A lady in distress?” He laughed and straightened. “How did a lady come to find herself on display at an auction, scandalously clad in a transparent Greek costume, in Madame Vestry’s House of Pleasure?”
“House of Pleasure?” she squeaked.
“Where else would such a thing occur?” The man’s amusement seemed to deepen at her indignation. “And there will certainly be pleasure here tonight, slave.”
He ran a hand slowly down her arm, fingers trailing silkily against her bare flesh. Mouth agape at such a liberty, she slapped the hand away and ran for the door. With a long arm, he snared the diaphanous folds of her gown. The material strained against her body. Kat froze lest it rip, exposing her completely. Cursing her own folly for choosing such a costume, she swung around to face her captor.
Now it’s your turn! Which book (yours or another author’s) has your favorite H/H meeting? Come on and share!
Only Scandal Will Do is available at Amazon and other e-tailers. And Scandal‘s fabulous book trailer can be seen on Youtube.
Jenna Jaxon Romance--because passion is timeless. 
Love this scene! I’m like Carrie-Anne — my characters met as teenagers. But there’s a “cute meet” in my WiP. What fun they are to write.
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Love the first meet, Jenna! The first book that as far as a first meet goes that stands out in my mind is, Chasing Fire by Nora Roberts…. loved that first meet.
Neecy
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You know, there are a lot of “cute meets” that I really enjoyed over the course of reading. Yours in Scandal is quite a good one, in fact. It’s very memorable for me, which is what you want, I suppose. 🙂 I seem to like those “in the wrong place at the wrong time” meets. 🙂
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That first meeting never gets old. I love it.
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Great meet! I love it! Mine might be from Wild Horses, when Castana literally runs over Jake on the road.
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I love your meet!
Most of my meets happen really young, since my couples tend to grow up together and know one another since babyhood, or at least childhood. Though some of my characters of European origin have met their future spouses later on in life.
In April, for an open mic blog hop, I made a video of me reading the first meeting of my young Dutch resistance fighter Jakob and his future wife Rachel. Originally they met in April of 1945, but I felt it would be better for the storyline and the development of his character if they met earlier (October 1943) and he couldn’t stop thinking about her from that point on. When they cross paths again in May of 1945, it makes more sense for them to connect so quickly and strongly.
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Your “cute meet” is quite original, Jenna.
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Your first encounters are always sparky, Jenna. And I love the trailer for Only Scandal Will Do. Keep goin’ girl!
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LOVE that!!! Im working on my long novella and I dont want to spoil there first meet!!!
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Fun cute-meet, Jenna! And since Sharon stole mine – because immediately Samantha and Richard popped into mind! – I’ll got with a second favorite: Love the ‘meet’ in Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me – so fun, really starts off the story with a bang!
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I LOVE that first meeting Jenna. I really adore the dark and brooding, tense meetings between H/H’s the best, they draw me in much more than sweet meetings usually, because the conflict and tension is what keeps me turning the pages. This sort of meeting as you’ve posted above is right up my alley for reading material!
Here is the first meeting of my heroine Sophie, and the hero, Emery. Sophie is a passionate journalist who is trying to get the story of Emery’s childhood kidnpapping. She finds out he frequents an elite BDSM club and she gains entrance to it. Only the meeting doesn’t go as planned.
Sophie barely had time to protest at the dom’s hold on her wrist before he dragged her across the room to where a group of people circled a couch against the wall. They are turned to face her, curiosity and amusement flashing in their eyes. She was prey, for a so-called contest in a BDSM club. The crowd’s focus on her was not comforting in the slightest.
The man holding her grinned darkly at the onlookers. “Found a newbie. She’ll be perfect.”
Sophie again jerked to get her wrist back and failed. He reacted without hesitation and smacked her bottom with an open hand. “Stand still, bow your head,” he commanded.
To her horror she obeyed instantly, not because she naturally bowed to anyone who shoved her around, but because she was too terrified to wonder what he’d really do if she didn’t. He seemed like a man who would enjoy punishing her, and she knew enough about this lifestyle to know she never wanted to end up over a spanking bench, even if the idea did make her insides flare to life.
“Bring her here, Royce.” A cool, rich voice spoke. It poured over her skin like whisky, slightly rough, with an intoxicating bite to it.
The crowd around her and the man, Royce, parted. Another man sitting back on the blue brocaded couch watched them. His large hands rested on his thighs, fingers impatiently drumming a staccato beat. Royce shoved Sophie none too gently, sending her to her knees right at the man’s feet. She reacted instinctively, throwing her hands out to balance herself and her palms fell on his thighs and her chest collided with his knees.
Breath rushed out of her lungs in a soft whoosh. Large muscles jumped and tensed beneath her hands under his charcoal pants and she whipped her palms off him as though burned. Hastily she dropped her head and rested her hands on her own thighs, waiting.
She still didn’t look at his face, focusing instead on his expensive black shoes, dark charcoal suit. Her eyes tracked up his body, noting the crisp white shirt and thin blood red tie he wore. His throat was slightly tan, a sun-kissed gold, skin that looked lickable.
“Raise your eyes, little sub,” the voice demanded.
Was everyone going to call her ‘little sub’ all night? Sophie drew a deep breath, letting air fill her, making her almost light-headed. And then she looked up.
Her heat leapt into her throat and her brain short-circuited.
It was Emery Lockwood.
The boy’s soft angelic features were there, hidden beneath the surface of the man before her. The sharp jawline and high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, it was all the face of a man. But his eyes, they were the same haunted as the eight-year-old boy in her photo.
He was positively the most devastatingly sensual man she’d ever seen. Full lips, eyes the color of nutmeg framed with long dark brown lashes any woman would kill to have. He was masculine perfection, except for the thin, almost invisible scar that ran the length of his left cheek. The photo of the boy flashed across her eyes, the deep cut along his chin. Even after twenty-five years, he still bore the marks of his suffering.
“Have you told her the rules of our game?” Emery asked.
Royce came up behind her and reached around, caught her chin in his palm and tilted her face up to look at him. How had she thought him handsome compared to Emery? Royce was good-looking, sensual, all the things a man should be.
But he wasn’t Emery.
There was no magnetic pull, no air of mystery, no invisible strands of a spell woven between her and Royce like she felt with Emery.
Emery pulled her focus back, like the moon calling to the tides, demanding attention and obedience with the promise of something great, something she couldn’t understand. Every cell in her body was on the verge of vibrating. Her senses hummed with eagerness, ready to explore his touch, his taste. Had she not known his past, he still would have affected her. Like a minnow caught on in a vast current, she was pulled out to deeper waters, helpless to resist.
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I think maybe it would be Flirting With Danger by Suzanne Enoch. Which is funny because its contemporary and I usually read historical.
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Oh, what happened in that meet? If it’s your favorite–and really outside your sub-genre reading preference–it must be awesome! Thanks for stopping by, Sharon!
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