Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Think three's a crowd? Alice Gaines' sexy new Club Ecstasy series proves that three only makes the fun hotter …

Susan McGraw knows she's demanding. And after a rough breakup, she thinks she's earned it. Luckily, Club Ecstasy can satisfy her every desire. Only tonight, one man won't be enough—she requires the devotion oftwo hot men. But when one of her lovers turns out to be the boyfriend she loved and lost, Susan realizes she may be in over her head …

When Adam, manager of Club Ecstasy and Susan's former boyfriend, realizes he's going to have to share her, he thinks he'll lose his mind with jealousy. But instead of making him envious, watching her with another man turns him on like mad. Together, the three of them experience the ultimate sensual and sexual exercise—but after all is said and done, will a new trick heal old wounds?

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Total Temptation is out!

Chapter One

The butterflies in Cassandra Willis’s stomach hatched their own butterflies as she waited for the owner of Club Ecstasy. Seated on the visitor’s side of an antique mahogany desk, Cassandra flipped through the pages of the photo album Madeline Shaw’s assistant had given her. Madeline would only be a few minutes late, the young woman had assured Cassandra, and suggested she might spend the time selecting the man who would serve her.

For a moment, the assistant had sounded ready to say the man who would “service” her. If she had, Cassandra might very well have dropped the book and fled. Paying a man to serve her in bed was bad enough. She might have come here for a stud but not for stud service. Semantics aside, reality remained. If she went through with this scheme, and her body would never give her any peace if she didn’t, in all probability, she’d end up making love with one of these beautiful strangers before the evening was over.
No, not making love. Having sex or maybe even that other, coarser word that had never passed her lips. She would not make love with any of these men. She’d only made love with one man in her life. Now that Howard had died, she might fall in love again. After what her parents would consider a respectable number of years, of course. Until then, no lovemaking for her.

But she’d have sex. Tonight. With one of these men. Oh, God, what was she doing?

Still holding the book, she got up and paced around the room. In her normal life, she never would have considered coming to a place like this, no matter how elegant, to hire a man to give her pleasure. But Howard had died months earlier, and she’d had nothing other than the vibrator that had come delivered in plain brown paper to take the edge off the aching need that plagued her waking moments and stole into her dreams.

The desperation had driven her to Club Ecstasy—to the only place in the city where a woman could safely and discretely find not just relief from sexual frustration but fulfillment of all her fantasies. She’d had to take a risk to visit a facility owned by one of her husband’s acquaintances. Madeline Shaw had known Howard longer than Cassandra had. But Madeline also had a reputation for strict confidentiality. After all, she had herself to protect as well as her clients. An operation like this couldn’t be legal.

Cassandra paced some more and stewed, half wanting to run like hell and half vibrating with excitement at the prospect of finally having a virile lover of her own age after a marriage to a much older man. She couldn’t afford to get caught here, but neither could she stand to go home without finally experiencing the sensual pleasures she’d been denied in her marriage.

“Please excuse me for making you wait.” Madeline Shaw swept into the room, bringing a hint of San Francisco’s cool climate fog with her.

Cassandra started, nearly jumping. When her heart settled, she smiled. “I’ve been entertaining myself.”

“Good.” When Madeline removed her coat, the scent of an elegant perfume wafted from her. Perhaps something from Madeline’s own line of colognes. Very sophisticated, but Cassandra would not be able to carry it off for years and years.

“See anything you like?” Madeline asked.

“Like? Of these men?” Cassandra held out the photo album. “That’s an inadequate word. They’re all so . . .”
Madeline chuckled and took her seat. “They are, aren’t they? All my men are top-notch.”

Cassandra also sat. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

Madeline folded her hands together on top of the desk. “Feel free. I won’t answer if I don’t care to.”

“All this?” Cassandra gestured around her. “Why?”

“Why have an exclusive club for women?”

Put that way—as no more than a club—this place made perfect sense. Women needed to get away from the stresses of life, and a facility like this one, with its spa and gym, beauticians, and private shoppers, didn’t seem unusual at all. But then, there was a lot more to Club Ecstasy than that. “No, that isn’t what I’m asking, I guess.”

“You really want to know why I have male sex providers,” Madeline said.

Cassandra’s cheeks warmed. She’d be blushing brightly enough for Madeline to see. She’d be doing worse than that in a few hours if she could keep up her courage.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That’s what everyone asks,” Madeline said. “My men are here to give my clients pleasure. Women deserve that as much as men do, perhaps more.”

“But you’ve been so successful with your careers, first modeling and now your perfume and makeup lines. You don’t need to do this.”

Madeline leaned back against her chair and smiled. With the elegant cut and style of her hair, her perfect makeup, and her designer clothing, Madeline made the very picture of understated wealth. She didn’t have to run a facility that would earn her scorn if its existence became public.

“Let’s just say Club Ecstasy has always been a dream of mine,” Madeline said.

“Do you use the men . . . that is, their services?” Darn it all, there was that word—services.

“Well, now, I’m not dead yet.” Madeline’s smile broadened. “But let’s talk about you. That way, I’ll be sure we can find you just the right match.”

Cassandra’s fingers clenched together in her lap. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Au contraire. There’s a lot to say about you.”

Cassandra had done her best to rehearse some explanation for why she’d shown up in search of, well, sex. Nothing had come to her, and for sure, nothing would now, either. Cassandra and Madeline had been in the same social set for years. She couldn’t possibly share the fact that Howard had been a considerate lover but not what every young woman dreams of. Certainly not the stuff of the books she kept in a box in the back of her closet.

“If you won’t put it into words, I will,” Madeline said after a moment. “Howard was too old for you.”

“Howard was a wonderful husband.”

“Of course he was. He was a dear man, but he was still too old for you. How many years, exactly?”

Cassandra’s stomach twisted. She always hated confessing she’d married someone only a year younger than her father. The difference in age made her seem like a gold digger, which was exactly what his sons were trying to prove in court so they could invalidate the will.

“Thirty years,” she said.

Madeline’s brow creased, the first mark of imperfection on her beautiful face. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-seven. I was twenty-two when we married. Howard was fifty.”

“And were you . . . how shall I put this . . .”

“A virgin? Yes.”

“Oh, dear Lord,” Madeline said. “It was your father’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“No. I loved Howard. I was happy to marry him.” Her parents had encouraged her, despite the fact she’d just graduated from college and hadn’t begun to figure out what to do with her life. Her mother had insisted she’d be “set,” and her father went on and on about what a good man Howard was. He hadn’t mentioned the business deal he’d hope to win through the match.

And then, Howard had seemed so dignified when they’d met. The grey at his temples perfectly complimented the cut of his business suit. They’d joked about how he didn’t do apps or social media, even though he bought her all the latest electronics—her toys, as he’d called them. They’d both insisted age was a number.

But underneath the clothes, he’d still been a middle-aged man. Would she have changed her mind if they’d made love before the engagement? The woman who loved him said no. The young woman who’d never shared a bed with a young man might give a different answer.

“Still, your father was happy for the marriage and moved things along quickly, didn’t he?” Madeline asked.

Cassandra might have wondered at that if she hadn’t been so excited about being in love and planning a gorgeous wedding. Now that she’d inherited much of Howard’s company and could complete the merger her father had wanted for years, she didn’t have to wonder. Of course, if Howard’s sons got their way, Cassandra wouldn’t inherit anything, and her father would lose the business connection he’d married her off for. None of them could find out she’d visited Club Ecstasy.

“Never mind that now.” Madeline nodded toward the photo album. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”

Cassandra opened the book again and flipped through the pages. One of them men wore a tuxedo with the bow tie undone and hanging from his neck. Like Howard, he looked fabulous in clothes, but the planes of his chest and flat abdomen promised a firm body underneath. The next page revealed a surfer dude with a warm smile and naked torso above swim trunks snug enough to outline his genitals. Quite an impressive display. She barely noticed the surfboard next to him. For a moment, Cassandra could imagine the scent of sunscreen as his slick body moved against hers. Definitely tempting.

“Jeff would be a good choice for you,” Madeline said. “I imagine you’ve had enough of elegance and would like some fun.”

“I’m sure he’d be wonderful.” The closer it came to coming true, the more ridiculous the whole plan seemed. And the more inevitable. She simply couldn’t go back home unfulfilled. Not to more days and nights of denial and misery. “Everything I do here will have to remain secret.”

“Of course. All my clients need privacy.”

“It’s not only a matter of general principle,” Cassandra said. “Howard’s sons would love to brew a scandal around me.”

“Ah, yes. Cynthia’s boys,” Madeline said.

They’d never seemed like boys to Cassandra, what with the eldest being a few years older than she. And now, they were making her life miserable. First, the lawyers. Then, the faceless men who followed her everywhere. Even if she had planned to sleep with someone after a few dates, the boys’ private investigators had ruined that plan by scaring off any man she’d stepped onto a public sidewalk with. No, Club Ecstasy was her only option, as unbelievable as that sounded.

“They’re putting out the lie that I slept around during our marriage,” Cassandra said. “If I’m caught with another man, they will claim I was involved with him before my husband died.”

“But, surely, that wouldn’t invalidate Howard’s will,” Madeline said.

“Not that in itself, but they’re claiming he had early-onset dementia. They even have a quack of a psychiatrist who’s looked through Howard’s medical records to make his diagnosis.” Her fingers made air quotes the word around “diagnosis.” “The sons accused me of taking advantage of his mental status by drugging him and getting him to change his will in my favor.”

Madeline scowled, actually showing the lines in her face. “I see they inherited their mother’s temperament. And love of money.”

“I didn’t help things, I’m afraid.” She cringed inwardly remembering her stupidity. “I dared to go out on a date shortly after Howard’s passing. To a club with a man I’d just met.”

“Surely, there’s no crime in that,” Madeline said.

Most of the details of that evening had dissolved into a blur of light-headedness and wobbly legs. Then bright flashes of light and yelling. “I drank too much. I was a mess when I came out of Le Cabaret, leaning all over my date. The press caught it all.”

“I didn’t pay much attention to that. It was you?”

“Howard Junior has all the pictures, and he’s shown them to the judge,” she said. “Who’s a member of his yacht club.”

“I see.” Madeline clucked her tongue. “Well. We practice strict confidentiality. My men know they’ll be fired if they kiss and tell. The other patrons won’t even see you here.”

That fit with everything she’d learned about the club. One of her friends had gotten tipsy at a party and mentioned privately to Cassandra that, as a young widow, she might want to try the place out. Even after too much to drink, Tina wouldn’t give her many details for fear she wouldn’t be allowed to come back if she said too much. She’d only given Cassandra an e-mail address and code word. Then, Cassandra had waited to hear back that she’d been accepted. The whole time her anticipation and, yes, a certain amount of titillation had grown.

“Everything seems secure,” she said.

“Good. Shall we get Jeff for you?” Madeline asked.

“Let me look a bit . . .” Cassandra turned a page, and the rest of her thought flew right out of her mind. The man in the picture was like no one she’d ever seen. He had a fabulous body with broad shoulders and well-defined biceps, but she could have said that about all the men in the book. Unlike the others, however, he wore clothes that molded to his body—a snug T-shirt and leather pants. Rather than an affectation, the pants made sense, given that he sat astride a motorcycle. Spiky blond hair and a gold earring in one ear gave him a decidedly dangerous air, but what really made her breath catch was the expression on his face. The insolent smile on his ample lips and the light of defiance in his eyes suggested he’d like to eat her up and he knew how to make her enjoy it.

Madeline glanced at the page. “You found Bobby.”

“Yes, I think I did.”

“He could be right for you, although . . .”

“Although what?” she asked.

“Bobby’s new, and he’s a little rough around the edges,” Madeline said. “But, his clients have complimented him on his stamina, if you get my drift.”

That he wouldn’t fade but could make the sex last for a good, long time. She almost melted at the thought. “Anything else?”

“He can be adventurous, but of course, you decide what you want to do.” Madeline reached over and placed her hand over Cassandra’s. “You’re very nearly a virgin. Are you sure you’re ready for a wild ride like Bobby?”

“There’s one way to find out, isn’t there?” Her mind may have hesitated, but her body had decided the moment she’d set eyes on his image. Bobby was everything she’d dreamed of ever since she’d learned she was a sexual creature with powerful urges. Urges that had never been fully satisfied. They would be tonight.

“I want Bobby,” she said. Possibly the first time she’d ever made a direct statement to anyone about what or who she wanted. Her first step toward sexual freedom.

“Bobby you shall have.” Madeline rose. “I’ll show you to your suite.”



Saturday, September 6, 2014

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Lots of opportunities to win a free copy of Total Temptation

Lots of blogs will be featuring contests to win a copy of the first story in the Club Ecstasy series in the coming weeks.  For now, check out one of the following blogs:





I'll post more on future dates.


Thursday, July 10, 2014

Covers for my new series

Check out the gorgeous covers for my new series from Avon Impulse (due out this September)

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Great review for Whatever He Requires


Well sometimes folks great things come in small packages and this is one of them.  A short read but nonetheless packed with lots of details, great character development, and of course your HEA.  You will love the Billionaire British-German Dominate, meets up with the nurdy smarty pants and sparks fly.  I love a man that can cook and I mean really cook in the kitchen and the bedroom, and the shower, etc.  This is a hot read with a little kink that turns out to be just perfect.

Friday, March 7, 2014

New release from Etopia Press - Whatever He Requires

Chapter One

She was to perform all the duties Sir Peter Breit required. The e-mail actually said that. Verbatim.

Then it got even better, or it would have, if it was meant as a joke. But it was worse, actually, because Larry Sullivan, her boss, didn’t joke around when discussing prospective buyers at Hawthorne House:

As a Knight of the Realm, Sir Peter expects and receives top-notch service wherever he goes. We’ll give him nothing less during his stay in the property. Wine him, dine him, flash your big brown eyes at him. Make sure he enjoys himself no matter what you have to do. Am I making myself clear? We’re all counting on you, Susan.

Well, screw that. Susan Christopher switched from Internet to telephone and called the offices of Bay Vista Properties Limited. If management wanted to order her to play babysitter—or worse—to a blue-blooded British billionaire, they could tell her to her face. Or voice, or something like that.

“Good afternoon, Bay Vista Properties Limited, this is Lauren speaking. How may I direct your call?” Lauren parroted.

Good Lord, Lauren had to have a pair of lungs to get all that out in one breath. Susan waited a second to make sure the receptionist had finished. “I need to talk to Larry.”

“Susan?” Lauren said.

“Who else? Is the boss man there?”


Which meant Larry was dodging her calls, and that was a very bad sign. When she’d hired on at the company a year ago as a combination concierge and Jane-of-all-trades, she’d made it clear to Larry that she’d bend over backward to keep the customers happy…within reason. That meant maintaining professional relationships at all times. She’d emphasized the word professional when she’d accepted the job so Larry would understand that meant no flirting, no touching, and nothing more intimate than a handshake. Over time, Susan had become used to unusual requests from customers. After all, one didn’t plunk down a couple million dollars for a prime piece of real estate in San Francisco without expecting beyond-the-call-of-duty service. She’d walked dogs and delivered laundry. She’d picked up stray relatives at SFO, Oakland, and San Jose. She’d hooked up computers and spent hours on the phone with tech support. No one had ever asked her to perform whatever duties some man said he required.

“Did he tell you what my latest assignment was?” Susan said.

“Something about an insanely wealthy Englishman who’d bought the top floor of Hawthorn House,” Lauren said. “He’s really excited.”

“Excited? Desperate is more like it.”

“You know how much that place cost to buy and restore. If Larry can’t sell the units, the company is in trouble.”

And so was the job that would get Susan through architecture school. Nothing else paid as well or fit into her class schedule. Besides, old buildings, like Hawthorn, tugged at her love of fantasy. These days no one bothered with luxurious materials or fine detail. All that came with a price that would choke your everyday millionaire. Sir Peter Breit hadn’t flinched at how much it would cost him, but he had come with a long list of demands.

“Does anyone know anything about this guy?” Susan asked.

“Other than that he’s filthy rich?”

“Like how old is he? What does he look like?” Did he like to play slap and tickle with the staff?

“What do you care?” Lauren said. “You’re not going to be sleeping with him.”

“Gawd, no. He’s probably horse-faced, old, and bald.”

“Well then, what’s the big deal?”

“I’d like to know his intentions,” Susan said. “And if I’m going to have to wear a chastity belt.”

Lauren giggled. “In a fight with a droopy, old Englishman, my money’s on you.”

“I don’t like having to give some idiot the knee to the privates,” Susan said. She’d do it if she had to, of course. No one put one over on Mrs. Christopher’s little girl.

Lauren’s giggles stopped. “Do you think it would really come to that?”

“Don’t be na├»ve. Men get ideas, especially the privileged types.” Like men with Sir in front of their names. “They figure you’re there to serve them any way they want.”

“Larry wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Not to my face, which is why he’s ducking my calls and sticking to e-mail.” Lord, please, let her be wrong about this. The fluttering in her stomach told her she wasn’t.

“Maybe you can get him to hire a temp to do the job. After all, you’re not really secretarial material,” Lauren said.

“A temp? Are you kidding? Someone from outside the company? Not going to happen.”

“You can take care of yourself,” Lauren said.

“Yeah, I can. I just hope I don’t have to.” She searched her brain for some way out of this mess. When she didn’t find any, she sighed. “I guess if Larry’s not going to let me talk him out of this insane assignment, I have no choice but to wait for the guy to show up with his ‘requirements.’”

“When’s he due?”

Susan checked her watch. “In an hour. More than enough time for me to make a last pass through the condo.”

“Give me a call once you’ve seen him. I might be interested,” Lauren said. “If he isn’t too droopy.”

“Get serious, girl.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Bye.” Susan broke the connection and headed toward the back of the unit. New appliances stood ready in the laundry room, although Sir Peter hardly sounded like anyone who’d use them. If asked, she’d take his things out to be cleaned as she had for other clients. She would not fold his boxers.

The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel stove and refrigerator. Copper pots hung over a butcher block worktable. Not knowing Sir Peter’s tastes, she’d stocked the fridge with the basics and a few luxury items, and a wide variety of wines filled a climate-controlled cabinet almost as tall as she was. Important things first. With everything spotless there, she proceeded down the short hallway to the master bedroom suite.

The lord of the manor had his own sitting room—a custom a British knight would find fitting. The antique writing desk complemented the hardwood floor and Oriental area carpets. All very discreet and in keeping with the age and style of the house.

Past the sitting room lay the master bedroom with its plush carpeting and airy space. The huge bed sported a canopy of muted desert colors in brown and red that fell to the floor at all four corners. Matching drapes billowed around the doorway that led to the balcony. In the unusually warm weather she’d left the French doors open. In general, the house stayed cool, but Sir Peter could turn on the central air conditioning if his English blood was too thin to stand a little heat. After a quick check of the bathroom with its huge shower and sunken tub, Susan left the suite and headed toward the front of the building.

She’d just passed the formal dining room when a buzzer sounded from the foyer. The signal that someone was down at the main gate asking for admittance. She glanced at her watch again. Far too early for her client’s arrival. Still, she went to the front hall and pressed the button to speak to whomever was waiting for her to let them in.


“Sir Peter Breit,” a heavily accented English voice replied.

“Now?” she said. “He’s not due for nearly an hour.”

“Sir Peter Breit,” the man repeated.

She pushed another button, one that would open the gates long enough for a car to come through. If not the great one himself, this could be someone who worked for Sir Peter. Maybe this person would fill some of Sir Peter’s requirements and let Susan off the hook.

She went to the window to get a view of the newcomer and watched as a limousine made its way up the drive. Because the car’s windows had a dark tint, she couldn’t make out anyone inside. At the front steps, the limo stopped and a man climbed out. Or rather unfolded himself out, because when he’d straightened, he revealed himself to be of considerable height. He wore a suit that seemed sculpted for his body. With wavy dark hair and a strong jawline, he could have graced the pages of a gentlemen’s magazine.

This for sure couldn’t be Sir Peter. For one thing, it took decades to acquire the sort of wealth one needed to buy this property. A person generally didn’t become a billionaire or an English Sir before the age of sixty. Fifty at the very earliest. This man must work for Sir Peter and had come to check things out before his boss arrived. Fine. She could deal with him, even if he did resemble a Greek statue come to life.

When the main entrance to the building buzzed for admittance, she didn’t question the man, but pushed the button that would free the lock. Then she opened the door of the flat and waited for the antique elevator to make its way to the fifth floor. With her hands folded together before the skirt of her business suit, she straightened her shoulders and did her best to appear businesslike.

At age twenty-two that wasn’t easy. People often judged her because of her age, despite her advanced education. So she wore the company uniform—navy blue suit with pinstripe blouse beneath the jacket, small red tie at her throat. Pantyhose and sensible heels completed the outfit. Prudish, but effective in making her appear serious to narrow-minded clients.

After a few clanks and groans, the elevator arrived at the fifth floor and the man let himself out. Propping the door open with his foot, he pulled a couple of suitcases and a laptop into the hallway. Definitely not Sir Peter. The exalted CEO of a luxury car company wouldn’t tote his own luggage.

When he finally spotted her, he did the usual double-take, his head jerking slightly in surprise. “Miss Christopher?”

“Ms. Christopher.” She extended her hand. “You must work for Sir Peter.”

“Not precisely.” Precisely. How veddy, veddy British. He spoke with one of those accents that made you wish he’d read the phone book so you could listen for hours. Honey-soft. Pear-shaped tones. And while the sound of his voice washed over her, he clasped her fingers in his larger ones. His palm felt warm and dry against her own.

After a few seconds, she pulled her hand free. “Let me help you with the bags.”

“No need.” He juggled all his bags inside the condo, and she entered behind him, closing the door with a soft click of the lock.

She didn’t say anything about the condominium and its amenities. The place spoke for itself. He made a full circle, first gazing at the restored wainscoting and cherry wood furniture. Some pieces were authentic Victorian and others reproductions, but all fit with the natural elegance of the house.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he walked to the marble fireplace and admired the brass fittings. A large vase sat on the mantle, full of enough sprays of cymbidium orchids to cover a parade float. Turning, he placed his hands at his back and stared up at the lofty ceiling. “In fact, it’s rather good.”

Susan couldn’t help but bristle a bit. “Rather good” didn’t begin to describe the splendor of Hawthorn House. Whoever this man was, he wouldn’t have studied architecture as she had, but if he had a soul, he had to be moved by the beauty here.

“If Sir Peter finds something unsatisfactory—” she said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“—he can change anything he wants,” she continued. “He owns the place.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “For now.”

A silence settled over them as they sized each other up. He certainly appeared to be doing that, as his gaze traveled over her. Not intrusive or lecherous but just curious, he took in her clothing and her hair, which had more or less remained in the French braid she’d shelled out good money to get done at the stylist’s. For her part, she noted the gray-green of his eyes, a shade that seemed to change depending on the light. Right now, standing far from a window, they took on the color of the ocean before a storm.

After a bit, all the quiet seemed to settle on her shoulders, and if she didn’t move, she might actually tremble. Clearly, she’d never win a game of staring with this man. Whoever he was. She walked to a chair and set her hands on the back of it. “Will Sir Peter be arriving soon? I’d like to show him the condominium.”

He gestured toward the dining room. “Show away. I’m here.”



To read a more explicit excerpt, visit here:  http://www.alicesexcerpts.blogspot.com

Thursday, February 6, 2014

New release from Changeling Press - Love Goddess

PLEASE NOTE:  This is a PG excerpt.  The story is X rated

Chapter One
“Another failure, huh?” the chameleon said. “Too bad.”

Tatiana glanced from the display in front of her toward her familiar. He’d turned the same color as the tabletop -- a warm brown suggestive of mahogany -- and he was doing his statue thing… standing perfectly still as if he were made of wood, too. The posture didn’t keep him from mouthing off at her, though. Maybe she could still trade him in for a black cat.

“They’re screwing each other’s brains out.” She gestured toward the display. “I don’t know how you can call that a failure.”

Larry made a jerky movement toward the screen, cocked his head, and studied Tatiana’s latest subjects. “Yeah, but it’s just sex.”

“What do you mean just sex? Sex is the whole point.”

He relaxed back into his earlier pose. “If you say so.”

Tatiana checked the couple again -- two shy people who’d had the hots for each other for years before she brought them together. In what they thought was the privacy of his bedroom, they’d gotten naked some time ago, and now he lay on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips as he humped like mad. Their voices blended together into a chorus of “Yes. Oh, God, yes. More, more. I’m going to come.”

As aspiring love goddess for the inhabitants of this human dimension, a different one from her own, Tatiana had to watch to make sure her couples stayed on the right track. She’d always expected to enjoy the evidence of her success. Now, it just made her ache, all because of the absence of the man who’d always promised he’d be her partner. Lucius could soothe the ache if he were here. Instead the sonofabitch had become heir apparent to his father’s kingdom and didn’t have time for trivial matters like spreading love throughout the human world.

So she had to enjoy watching better sex than she’d ever have without Lucius around. Then to make matters worse, the human male decided to get creative and climbed off the woman long enough to position himself, kneeling, at the end of the low bed. When she whimpered, he bent to capture her hips and pull her toward him. In their new position, she could see virtually everything, and there was a lot to be seen.

“They’re going to climax soon,” Larry said.

“I noticed.”

“Then what’s going to happen?”

“How in hell would I know?” she answered.

“You want to be a love goddess. It’s your business to know.”

The grunts and moans from the display were growing louder, more insistent. She reached for the control to turn the display off.

“Don’t,” Larry said. “See what they do now.”

“Why? My work is done.”

“Is it? Or are you afraid to see if you’ve succeeded or not?”

Wise ass. She glared at the lizard. “Oh, all right. If we must.”

The man scrambled up onto the bed next to the woman, and the two of them lay, not touching but staring up at the ceiling.

“That was great,” the woman said after a minute or two.

“Yeah, really,” he said. Neither moved for the other. After another long moment, he stretched. “Want something to eat?”

“I’d probably better get home,” the woman answered. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Right,” he said.

The woman got up and searched around for items of her clothing on the floor. “Next week?”

“Sure thing,” he said.

“Seen enough?” Larry asked.

Tatiana turned off the display and watched as the screen turned back into a fish tank, complete with mechanical but lifelike fish swimming around. Unfortunately, she’d watched them often enough to know the pre-programmed pattern of their movements. This one to the upper right corner, the other one down below. Dull and predictable. She ought to get something real to watch someday.

“So, what’s your point?” she said.

“Did that look like love to you?”

“I get them together. Love is their responsibility.”

Larry turned a vibrant green -- not the usual response for a creature who usually did his best to disappear into his environment. He obviously didn’t like her answer. “How did you get so far away from your real purpose?”

“What do you know about my job? You’re a reptile.”

“A two hundred year old reptile who’s been around humans my entire life,” he said. “When they don’t love, they behave badly. I signed on with you because I thought you could help them out.”

Tatiana leaned back in her chair, stretching her feet out in front of her. Twisting her head to one side and the other, she did her best to work a kink out of her neck. Maybe the lizard had a point. She’d managed quite a bit of success with the sex part of getting her people together, but they never seemed to go beyond the physical.

When she’d started on this pathway, she’d had a male partner. The hierarchy would never have accepted her into training to become what humans thought of as gods if she hadn’t. When Lucius had abandoned her, the males in charge had predicted she’d fail, and now she was proving them right, damn it all.

“If you had a mate, you’d understand,” Larry said.

Oh, right. The world’s answer to all of women’s problems… a man. “I don’t need a mate.”

“You spend all your time watching other people have sex. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

“I have sex, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Larry said. “When?”

“Let’s see…” The last time had been the Wednesday before. No, Tuesday. She’d gone to the pet shop to buy Larry’s grubs and crickets. The guy behind the counter had had a cute smile, so they’d hung a “closed” sign on the door and had ducked into the store room. The whole encounter hadn’t taken very long, and he’d turned out to know more about reptiles than women’s bodies. Still… she’d had an orgasm. Eventually.

“See? You’re not even having sex any longer,” Larry said.

“I’ve forgotten more about sex than you’ll ever know.”

“My point exactly. You’ve forgotten.”

“All right. I’ll get all dressed up tonight and go out and find a guy. Don’t wait up for me.” Good idea, even if the chameleon had given it to her. She needed more than a quickie to keep her on her toes. All she needed was a some sweet loving to return to the top of her game.

“That’s not going to work any better than the other times you’ve tried it,” Larry said. “You need a mate.”


To read an X-rated excerpt, please visit http://alicesexcerpts.blogspot.com


Thursday, January 16, 2014

Top Books of 2013 at Google

My Cabin Fever novella, Heat Rises, is a Top Book of 2013 at Google.


Snowbound in a cabin….a chance to live out all her fantasies

Laura Barber has dreamt of doing unspeakable things with Ethan Gould for years. Now, stuck in a mountain cabin, she just might get her shot. Ethan offers her the chance to live out each and every one of those desires. They may be rivals in the business world, but in the bedroom they’re a perfect match. Knowing they only have a few days, Laura shakes off all her inhibitions--every secret need, every lust-filled thought…it’s all fair game.

“Laura, move over.”

Asleep. Dreaming. Someone was telling her to move over. The salesman in her mind’s eye who was trying to sell her the huge purple SUV with the tiny tires. Why would he want her to move over?

“Come on, Laura. Please.”

She opened her eyes to a strange place with a low ceiling just visible above her. The loft. The cabin. A hand shook her arm.

“Ethan?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m freezing. Move over.”

She clutched the covers to her chest and turned. The floorboard lighting cast enough illumination to show to his face at the top of the ladder, less than a foot from hers. “What happened?”

“The fire went out.”

“You should have kept it going.”

“I was asleep, okay?” He climbed the last few rungs and lifted the covers so he could slide in beside her.

“What are you doing?”

“This is the only warm spot in the cabin.”

She retreated toward the back of the loft, but that didn’t take her very far away from him. “The wood stove.”

“It sends all the warmth up here,” he said. “Heat rises, remember?”

“But you can’t—” Before she could get another word out, he pressed his foot against her leg. Even through her pajamas, it felt like ice.

“Hey!” she cried.

“See what I mean?” he said. “Have pity. You don’t want me to freeze my butt off, do you?”

“Heaven forbid.” He had a glorious ass, just like every other part of him. Not that she’d ever stared at it or anything.

“Thanks.” He pulled the covers up under his chin and settled back. At least, they had two pillows so they wouldn’t have to share. But how was she supposed to sleep with him taking up all this room with his scent and his, well, maleness? Maybe a little small talk would make things less tense.

“That was a great dinner. You’re a good cook,” she said.

“Steak and salad’s easy.”

“But zabaglione? That takes some skill.”

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers. “Glad we found the marsala. Jeff keeps a stocked liquor cabinet.”

“I noticed.”

“Maybe I’ll make you a margarita while we’re here.”

So much for small talk. “Ethan, don’t.”

“Laura, I . . .” He rolled toward her and something very solid pressed against her hip. Hard, male, and very large. He flopped onto his back again, and they lay in silence for a while.

“I guess you must have felt—” he said.


“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s a natural male reaction,” she said. Natural and about as awkward as anything natural could be. “Men get, well, that way all the time, don’t they? At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Oh God, here they went again. The two of them together were some kind catastrophe waiting to happen.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “You think this is some kind of random, meaningless event?”

“I think I don’t want to have to talk about another elephant in six years.” She rolled over, pinning herself against the wall with her back to him. “Good night, Ethan.”

“Oh no you don’t.” He caught her shoulder and pulled her back against the mattress. “We’re going to take care of this right now.”

“For heaven’s sake, there’s nothing to take care of.”

“My anatomy disagrees.”

“I don’t know anything about anatomy. I was a business major.”

“Gee . . . hosophat.” He propped himself up on one elbow and waved his finger under her nose. For a moment, he looked ready to deliver a lecture, but then, his expression change, turning serious, and he stared at her mouth.

All the air whooshed out of the tiny space, and she parted her lips to try to breathe. As soon as she had, he moaned and closed the distance to place his lips over hers.