A Date of Godlike Proportions by Tellulah Darling
(The Blooming Goddess Trilogy #2.5)
Publication date: December 20th 2013
Genres: Comedy, Mythology,
(The Blooming Goddess Trilogy #2.5)
Publication date: December 20th 2013
Genres: Comedy, Mythology,
There’s bound to be pressure when it takes 2500 years to get to a second date. Which is exactly why Theo Rockman, a.k.a. Prometheus, would rather not go. With his best friend gravely injured and the fate of humanity still on the line, Theo has all sorts of creative excuses to avoid dating swoon-worthy god and love of his life, Hephaestus.
YA romantic comedy gets an epic mythological twist in the free (at select retailers) short story A Date of Godlike Proportions (The Blooming Goddess Trilogy Book 2.5). Being human hasn’t killed Theo, but this date just might.
Purchase:
--It's free at Kobo: http://bit.ly/18BArwG
{Guest Post by Tellulah Darling}
My
first sucky kiss or the reason why I write YA romantic comedy
I
don’t actually remember my first kiss. And believe me, it’s not because there
was such a variety of them in my teen years that it just got lost in the
shuffle. Which, sigh, is probably another reason I write YA romantic comedy. At
least my characters fare better than I did.
While
I may not remember my actual first kiss, the first one I do remember is forever
burned in my brain. I was fifteen years old and a cute boy (cute being relative
to my age and the decade) had asked me to go to the fireworks with him.
Sounds
romantic, doesn’t it? Yeah, throw that idea out. Imagine you and ten thousand
of your closest friends packed onto a beach to listen to a deafening soundtrack
of rock ballads while watching the light show overhead. Now make at least half
of those people drunk.
But
silly, innocent girl that I was, I though this was going to be highly romantic
– a night of cuddling with perhaps one perfect kiss as the final firework burst
overhead and in that moment of silent awe, I would feel, nay hear our two
hearts beat as one.
I
remember that we got there about three hours early to secure a spot. The boy
had not brought any kind of blanket, so this was three hours of sitting in
sand, while families and yahoos settled in around us. But that was okay. It
gave us a chance to talk, probably about such scintillating topics as which of
our friends was screwing around on whom and what TV shows were we watching. I
remember having overlooked the fact that he didn’t read because he was cute.
(Never again.) It did allow a pleasant sexual tension to build between us and
by the time the sun had set and the show started, I was all ready for the hand
holding to begin.
Now,
skip the hand holding. Because in a blink, as the crowd around us roared and
the first flare lit up the sky, I felt myself pushed back onto the sand and
these giant lips come towards me. Tongue may have been hanging out. And while I
can’t remember that part exactly thanks to some very excellent trauma
repression, I do have a very clear memory of thinking, “this is going to be
gross.” Which then warred with the thought, “but I am about to be
kissed.”
The
kissing won out. Because I was 15 and stupid. But it was a curiously detached
experience, with me trying to figure out if his lips were growing and what the
polite amount of time was that I could allow this before I shoved him off me
and grabbed a desperately wanted tissue to wipe off my face.
Forty
minutes. That was the length of the fireworks show (of which I saw nothing) and
the amount of time he kissed me with those massive, fleshy, wet lips. I take
responsibility for not shutting down the action sooner, but my mother had
raised me to be polite and I wasn’t sure what the polite way to express “EW
THIS IS SO DISGUSTING!” was.
So I
kind of tuned out and focused on all the places that sand was creeping in. And
not in a pleasant “yay friction” kind of way. At long long last, the show
ended. At which point he did sweetly take my hand and we began the trek to the
bus stop. I tried one last time to salvage my romantic ideals with a cuddle on
the bus, but that seemed to give him the idea that I wanted to kiss some more.
Which I so didn’t. So I moved seats. And that was the first kiss I can remember
having.
Which
leads me good people, to why I write YA romantic comedy. Because while I can
appreciate the humour of awkward teen passion, I’m determined to write girls
who will push that boy off them for not being romantic. Or ruining the kissing
experience. Girls who will say, “Nope. This isn’t working for me.” Who will
make their boys smarten up and figure out how to treat a girl, even if they
have to teach the guy themselves.
And
I figure if I write enough great kisses, I’ll end up believing that one of them
was mine.
Tellulah Darling
noun
1. YA Novelist
2. Alter ego of former screenwriter and instructor
3. Sassy minx
Geeks out over: cool tech.
Squees for: great storytelling.
Delights in: fabulous conversation.
Writes about: where love meets comedy. Awkwardness ensues.
noun
1. YA Novelist
2. Alter ego of former screenwriter and instructor
3. Sassy minx
Geeks out over: cool tech.
Squees for: great storytelling.
Delights in: fabulous conversation.
Writes about: where love meets comedy. Awkwardness ensues.
Author Links:
Website: http://welcome.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/
Facebook: https://www.
