First Love or Heartbreak featuring Cate Ashwood

       I am so excited to have the opportunity to write a little something for WON, and when I heard that the theme for this month was “first loves”, I was torn between talking about writing first loves, or telling the story of my first love. But for me (and I’m sure many other authors), the two are inextricably linked.
      My first love was in the sixth grade, and he was an older man in the seventh. I carried that torch for nearly two years, but one day I saw him making out with Rosie in the hallway at lunch. I was devastated. My best friend was going through something similar, and so to mend our broken hearts, we wrote stories for one another. She wrote my happy ending with David, and I wrote hers with Duncan.
      Those stories helped me get through my first heartbreak. Until I met my husband (which is a story for another time), I had, shall we say, bad luck in the romance department. Writing romance is a way for me to live vicariously through my characters, to have do-overs on things that didn’t go so smoothly in my own life the first time.
      Take my first kiss, as an example. My first real boyfriend, Patrick, was the son of a family friend, and like most girls, I had spent years imagining what that kiss would be like, who it would be with, where it would happen. What I didn’t expect was to be taken by surprise in my basement, but more than that, I didn’t expect it to be so wet. And I don’t think he expected me to burst into tears and run up the stairs, never to come back down. Eventually, he got the hint and went home.
      It wasn’t exactly the stuff romance novels are made of (although Patrick and I are still able to laugh about it today).
      One of the novels that will be coming out from Dreamspinner Press this summer is called The Storm Before the Calm, and this is a small excerpt of Charlie’s first kiss:
      "I tilted my head up to him, inviting him to take, giving myself over to what I hoped was about to happen.
       I didn’t have to wait long before Max bowed his head, brushing his lips across mine. It was slow, almost hesitant, but as he kissed me, it became hungrier until he was claiming my mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the kiss I’d shared with Beth Atkins at her birthday party in the sixth grade. This was hot and needy and powerful. Max possessed me—owned me—and I liked it. I shoved my hands into his hair, holding him to me, afraid he would stop. His lips were soft gentle but demanding as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. It was soft and velvety. I slid mine against his, the wet heat making my head spin.
      We broke apart, both of us panting a little as we stared at one another. I felt like my entire world had shifted, not only off its axis but into an entirely different solar system."