Saturday, 13 February 2010

Weekly Geeks – Romance is in the Air……



Our Assignment…


In honor of Valentine's weekend, let's talk about romantic literature. By that, I don't necessarily mean the modern romance genre, but books that you find particularly romantic.
Feel free to explore any or all of these prompts:

  • What literary couple is your favorite?
  • How do you define romantic literature? Does it always involve sex? or the hint of sex?
  • What author/s do you think writes romantic scenes particularly well?
  • Do you have a favorite romantic scene in a book?
  • Do you find you read romantic literature at certain times of the year?
  • Tell us your favorite romantic quote.
  • Do you have some favorite romantic poetry?
Share any other thoughts you have about books and romance or love or eroticism.
And beyond books: If you celebrate Valentine's Day, what's your favorite way to do it? A romantic dinner? Chocolate? Do you send cards to people you love?



I have decided to share a scene from one of my favourite books – Morning Glory – LaVyrle Spencer 





In town, they called her "Crazy Widow Dinsmore." But Elly was no stranger to their ridicule--she had been an outsider all her life, growing up in a boarded-up old house under the strict eye of her eccentric grandparents. Now she was all alone, with two little boys to raise, and a third child on the way.

He drifted into Whitney, Georgia, one lazy afternoon in the summer of 1941, hoping to put his lonely past behind him. He yearned for the tenderness he had never known, the home he'd never had. All he needed was for someone to give him a chance.

Then he saw her classified ad: WANTED--A husband. When he stepped across Elly Dinsmore's cluttered yard, Will Parker knew he had come home at last ...




His whole life he'd longed for someone to touch him this way, to touch the boy in him as well as the man, to soothe, reassure. The feel of her fingers in his hair brought back a measure of all he'd missed. He was parched earth, she fresh rain. He, a waiting vessel, she rich wine. And in those moments of closeness she filled him, filled all the lacks endowed him by his shiftless, loner's life, becoming at once all the things he'd needed—mother, father, friend, wife, and lover.
When he felt sated he lifted his head as if drunk with pleasure.

"I used to watch you touch the boys that way. I wanted to say, Touch me, too, like you touch them. Nobody ever did that to me before, Elly."

"I'll do it anytime you like. Wash your hair, comb it, rub your back, hold your hand—"
His mouth stopped her words. It seemed risky to accept too much in this first, grand rush. He kissed her with gratitude changing swiftly to the lushness of fresh-sprung love. He braced higher and pushed her softly into the pillow, letting his hand rove over her neck and shoulder, suckling her mouth, spreading his fingers on her face, resting a thumb so near it almost became part of the kiss. His body beckoned to join more fully in this union. Realizing this was impossible, he broke the kiss but spanned her throat with his hand. Her pulsebeat matched the quickness of his own.
"You know how long I've loved you?"

How long?"

"Since the day you threw the egg at me."

"All that time and you never said anything. Oh, Will..."

A swift slew of possessiveness hit him. He claimed her mouth again, washing its interior with his tongue, holding her arms locked hard around his neck. He bit her lips. She bit back. He lifted a knee and pressed it high and hard between her legs. She opened them and squeezed his thigh. He circled her immense waist and held her as if forever.

"Tell me again." he demanded insatiably.
"What?" she teased.
"You know. Tell me."
"I love you."
"Once more. I got to hear it more."
"I love you."
"Will you get tired of me asking you to say it?"
"You won't have to ask."
"Neither will you. I love you." Another kiss—a hard, short stamp of possession, then a question filled with boyish impatience. "When did you know?"
"I don't know. It just came upon me."
"When we got married?"
"When we bottled the honey?"
"Well, sure's heck not when you threw that egg."
She chuckled. "But I noticed your bare chest for the first time that day and I liked it."
"My chest?"
"You liked my chest before you liked me?"
"When you were washing, down by the well."
"Touch it." Jubilantly he flattened her hand against it. "Touch me anyplace. God, do you know how long it's been since a woman touched me?"

"Will..." she chided timidly.

"Are you shy? Don't be shy. I thought I was, too, but all of a sudden it seems like we got so much time to make up for. Touch me. No, wait. Get up. First I gotta see you." He piled onto his knees and pulled her up to kneel before him, holding her hands out from her sides. "Mercy, are you a pretty sight. Let me look at you." Her chin dropped shyly and he lifted it, pressed the tousled hair back from her temples, then fluffed it with his fingertips and arranged it on her collar-bones. "You mean I don't have to sneak anymore when I want to look at you? You got the greenest eyes. Green is my favorite color, but you knew that."


She folded her hands between her knees, quite overcome by this exuberant, demonstrative Will.

"I used to think if I was ever lucky enough to have a woman of my own, she'd have to have green eyes. Now here you are. You and your green eyes ... and your pink cheeks ... and your pretty little mouth..." With his thumbs he touched its corners and let his hands trail down to her shoulders, to her upper arms where they stopped. "Elly," he whispered, "don't move." He slipped his palms to the sides of her breasts and held them lightly while the blood rushed to her cheeks and she searched for a safe place to rest her gaze.

The dim light shifted on the folds of her nightgown as he cupped a breast in each hand, his palms too narrow to contain their prenatal fullness. Gently, he reshaped and lifted, then released them to glide one hand down the fullest part of her belly. There it rested, fingers splayed. He watched the hand, soon joined by the other to smooth the cloth toward her hips where he held it taut, disclosing the impression of her distended navel. Bending, he kissed her. There. On the stomach she'd thought ugly enough to put him off.

"Will." She found his chin and attempted to lift it. "I'm fat as a pumpkin. How can you kiss me there?"
He straightened. "You're not fat, you're only pregnant. And if I'm going to deliver that baby I'd better get to know him."
"I thought I married a shy, quiet man."

"I thought so too."

He smiled for the length of three glad heartbeats, then laughed. And wondered if life would ever again be this good. And decided surely tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow it could only get better.


6 Speak To Me:

gautami tripathy on 13 February 2010 at 13:24 said...

A beautiful excerpt. Something every womam desires and so also a man....

Chris on 13 February 2010 at 19:21 said...

Very sweet!

Anesthezea on 13 February 2010 at 20:58 said...

This is one of my all-time favorite romances ever-ever! I was going to talk about it myself on Weekly Geeks today, but you've done such a lovely job, I think I'll pimp your post when I finish mine. :)

pussreboots on 14 February 2010 at 01:38 said...

Not my cup of tea... My post is here.

Patricia Altner on 14 February 2010 at 02:01 said...

There is a very strong romantic theme in the historical novel Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman. The love between Llewelyn, Prince of North Wales and Joanna, the illegitimate daughter of England's King John is so compelling to me because it is based on truth.

Donna on 14 February 2010 at 04:01 said...

I'm sitting here trying to think in terms of romance but I'm drawing a blank. Whick is so sad with Valentine's day on the horizon. I think I'm a moody romantic as in when the mood strikes. ;)