Top Books of 2013 at Google

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

https://play.google.com/store/books/collection/promotion_1000a3f_topsellers?hl=en

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.

“Yeah.”

“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.

http://www.amazon.com/Heat-Rises-Cabin-Novella-ebook/dp/B0078XFHIM/ref=sr_1_10?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1342548064&sr=1-10&keywords=alice+gaines

Read an excerpt from Built for Lust

From Built for Lust by Alice Gaines

The sky was just beginning to lighten along the horizon as she let them out of the building and headed with Gray across the parking lot to the woods beyond. Beneath the trees, the night still reigned. In near total darkness, she kicked out of her shoes and undressed. Gray watched the entire time, his eyes pricks of light that seemed to shine from inside him. She hadn’t built anything within him that should do that, but eventually he’d become more than the sum of his parts. After he’d experienced the world, he’d become his own creature, only subservient to her. Maybe he’d started the process already.

He let out a little whine. Impatience? Disappointment at her human shape? Or maybe, excitement.

She shifted slowly so he could watch. Truth be told, she hadn’t spent much time in her wolven form lately, and the change took some thought. Her body became smaller but more powerful than her human shape. Immediately, her heightened hearing and scent told her what she needed to know about her surroundings. No other humans nearby and no other wolves. Only the sounds of birds stirring and the scent of her mate.

He walked toward her, his head held down. The posture might have been submission but more likely caution. He’d never seen one of his own kind before, and he must have detected her perfume the way she had his.

She held absolutely still, letting him come near. A low rumble from his chest warned that he knew he had the advantage of size and strength. What he didn’t know, though, was that she had more cunning. If she didn’t want him, he wouldn’t have her.

She’d built him for this, though, and if he did things the way she’d programmed, he’d have her before the sun came fully up.

Now near her, he sniffed along her flank, close to her sex. Her musk filled the air around her as the hunger built inside her. When he walked behind her, her legs trembled. For the first time in her life, she was only moments away from her body’s ultimate fulfillment, but if she’d made even one serious mistake in his programming, she’d still go uncompleted.

He pressed his snout in the space between her legs, his breath hot on the sensitive flesh. She jumped at the shock, and her voice came out as a yip of surprise, and her whole body quaked. Yes. Oh, yes!

He could continue now, but the full mating ritual demanded the chase. Now that he’d scented her, he’d follow -- at top speed until he dropped. He had her in his blood.

She bounded away from him. Not far, just enough to let him know he hadn’t won her yet. He stared back at her, silver fury in his eyes. When he stepped in her direction, she leapt again, now well out of his reach unless he agreed to come after her with everything he had. Staring back at him evenly, she waited for some sign that he’d made his decision. After a moment, he crouched. Only a creature perfectly attuned to him could have caught the change in his posture, he did it so subtly. She couldn’t miss the coiled strength, so before he could leap and take her where she stood, she raced off into the underbrush, dashing between ferns that came up to her haunches.

She’d run at full speed before, but never when the heat was fully on her. Her brain tuned out all but the most basic thoughts -- the driving rhythm of her footfalls as she extended her forelegs and then pulled at the ground beneath them, the power of her hind legs pushing her forward. The sound of her breathing and the pounding of her heart. Most of all the tension building in her womb with each jarring motion as her paws hit solid dirt.

Every inch of her sensed the male behind her. Now, he had to find his footing and chase the scent she’d left behind. Soon, he’d have his balance and would hit full speed. She’d need to make evasive movements to make him earn his reward.

Crashing from behind her told her he’d found his stride. When the sound of his breathing came through, too, she stopped abruptly, zigged, and dashed behind a tree. While she headed off in a new direction he came to a stop, hesitated, and then went after her. Those few seconds gave her another lead, and she used it to head down a ravine, skidding much of the way. At the bottom, she leapt from stone to stone across the stream, and went up the other bank.

Closer now, he splashed behind her and grunted as he closed the distance on the upward slope. He’d have her in a moment, and the glorious chase would end. She’d fought surrender all her life, but this time she’d lose. It was almost a shame that she could power down this beast she’d created, but she could bring him to life again whenever she wanted. She owned him, not the other way around.

Just when she couldn’t outrun him any longer, she found another escape. A downed tree, close enough to the ground that she could just fit beneath it, but he’d be too big to follow. She scrambled under it, the bark digging into her back. He’d just managed to nip at her heel, but she pulled her foot away, flattened herself against the ground and watched him.

Growling, he paced the ground in front of the log, while her heart hammered in her chest. His flanks heaved from exertion as he prowled, back and forth, back and forth. What a magnificent animal -- as much and more as her fantasies. Her womb clenched as she caught the scent of his desire. Both of them at fever pitch now, they only needed to conclude the final act of this mating.

She retreated on her belly, turned, and dashed out from under the other side of the tree. Without looking back, she headed at full speed ahead of her. Her perfect sense of him told her he’d bounded over the log in one motion and was bearing down on her. Fine. The time had come.

With her last burst of speed, she cleared some trees and sprinted into a clearing. A meadow of sorts, soft grass springing under her paws. She still ran with everything in her, but not to evade him any longer. With each stride, her excitement mounted. Just a little farther, a few more strides. Make him wild with need so he’d take her hard and fast. Now, now.

With a snarl, he launched himself on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. For a while, they rolled together, limbs tangled, teeth nipping. He ended up on top, nearly smothering her, as he bit down into the fur and flesh at the back of her neck. No more running. Now, he’d put all that ferocity into making her his.

Acknowledging her master, she pushed herself up to offer him her hindquarters.

Built for Lust is one of four stories in the collection released from Changeling Press today.

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2175

New review for my short story, Sex After Death

Thank you, Long and Short Reviews

http://www.longandshortreviews.com/book-reviews/sex-after-death-by-alice-gaines/

What surprised me the most about this tale was how often it made me laugh. The author introduces Katy to such unexpected situations that her reactions to them are as humorous as they are well-suited for the tone of this piece. Sometimes arousal and laughter go well together. This is one of them.

Sex After Death is one of the best short stories I’ve read in 2013. I can’t recommend it highly enough to anyone who loves quirky, funny erotica.

It's alive

It's out, finally.  My first published book, The Sixth Lover.

In Gilded Age Manhattan, young widow Carole Rutherford has more money than she can ever spend.  What she’s missed in life as the wife of a much older man is true passion…sex with a man young and strong enough to fulfill all her fantasies, leaving her limp with satisfaction.  She fears this part of life has passed her by and she’ll never rid herself of the longings that plague her waking and dreaming hours.

Until she receives a letter from one Mr. Thomas Rose, a man who claims to have met her in the past and who writes the intriguing words:

“You are not easy to forget.”

A curious correspondence between the Carole and the mysterious Mr. Rose follows- one that soon has her visiting an odd shop in search of items no decent woman would own.  After that, their letters become more and more intimate until Carole indulges in erotic acts and asks that Mr. Rose do the same and report on his experiences to her.  Finally, he issues her the ultimate challenge.  She is to come to him, but she must take four other lovers first.

The search for the illusive Mr. Rose takes Carole first to England, then to France, and finally to Austria as she makes a journey of sexual self-discovery.  The man she finds when she finally arrives in Italy to confront Mr. Rose may be her ultimate lover or someone who’s totally forbidden.

http://www.amazon.com/Sixth-Lover-Alice-Gaines-ebook/dp/B00GM8CFKM/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1384296535&sr=1-1&keywords=the+sixth+lover

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-sixth-lover-alice-gaines/1117378036?ean=2940149002580

New Release from Changeling Press - Sex After Death

I'm so excited.  My new story from Changeling Press is out.  Sex After Death is a short story about a woman who buys a very intriguing statue at an antiques shop.  She gets a lot more than she bargained for...the Changeling way.

Read an excerpt:

Sex After Death

“Oh, isn’t he cute?”  Katy’s friend’s voice carried all the way across the curio shop.  Katy glanced over to spot what Ginger had picked out.  It seemed to be a vase of some sort made of dark material.

“This’ll make a great gag gift for Sylvia,” Ginger said.  “Check it out.”

Katy joined Ginger and got a better view of the thing.  Not a vase but a planter designed to be filled with soil and a bit of greenery.  The shape had clearly caught Ginger’s attention - the carved figure of a man, anatomically correct with a large sac and a flaccid member of truly impressive proportions.

“I think you’re onto something,” Katy said.  “We could have all kinds of fun with this at Sylvia’s bridal shower.”

Katy took the little man from Ginger and hefted him.  “Heavy.  Must be stone of some kind.”

“Marble of a very rare dark color,” a male voice said from behind her.

She nearly jumped.  The owner of the store - a small man with thinning hair and a pencil mustache - had crept up on them.  “Very old.  Ancient, in fact, going back to the reign of Tiberius.”

“You’ve had it carbon dated, have you?” Katy asked him.

“Not necessary,” he said.  “The style is recognized by collectors.  There‘s an engraving at the bottom.”

Katy squinted but couldn’t make out much of the writing.  It was faded with time and in a language she didn’t understand, making it ever more difficult to decipher.  “What does it say?”

“The closest anyone can tell is coitus post mortem,” he answered.

Ginger giggled and put her fingers over her mouth.  “That sounds like it means sex after death.”

“It does.”  The man didn’t crack a smile.  Clearly, he was serious.

“But even if you believe in life after death,” Katy said.  “Sex after death?  Angels getting it on?  I mean, really.”

“What I believe doesn’t matter.  The inscription says sex after death.”  The man almost rolled his eyes.  Clearly, he’d had this conversation before.

Freaking weird, but appealing, too.  A guy so well endowed.  An eternity of really great sex.  Maybe he was a fertility icon or the gods’ gift to all womankind.  In a few weeks, he‘d serve as a centerpiece at a rowdy bridal shower.  “How much do you want for it?”

The owner smoothed his mustache with his fingertips for a moment.  “I could part with it for twenty dollars.”

“For something ancient with fine detail?”  Katy’s antennae went up.  If something sounded too good to be true, it usually wasn’t on the level.

Ginger tugged her elbow.  “Buy it.  It’s perfect.”

She really ought to.  At this price, who cared if it turned out to be something mass-produced to fool the yokels?  It would make a great shower gift.  They’d all get a bit tipsy on champagne and make up bawdy stories about the statue and what they‘d do with a thing as big as his.

Still, the skeptic in her wanted answers.  “Seriously, why the low price?”

The man gave her a sugary-sweet smile.  “I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Miss…”

“Wilson,” she supplied.

“Miss Wilson,” he said.  “Only women ever buy this piece, and they invariably return it and want their money back.”

She turned the planter over and around, searching for cracks and not finding any.  “What’s wrong with it?”

“The ladies never say, and I don’t question them.  I like to keep my customers happy.”

“I see,” she said.  Although she didn’t.  Not at all.  Not knowing its true origins or value, she wouldn’t pay much more for this piece.  But twenty dollars?  What the heck?

“I get tired of dusting it,” the man said.  “For twenty dollars, you can dust it for a while.”

“Fine.  I will.”  She turned toward Ginger.  “What should we plant in this?

“An asparagus fern would look like crazy green hair,” Ginger said.

“Or a really phallic cactus.”

“Oh, you mustn’t plant anything in it,” the man said.  “Unless you want the plant to die.”

“What, is it toxic?”  Katy set the planter back on the display table.

“Not at all, but you can’t get it wet, so you can’t water the plant.”  The man handed it back to her.  “Otherwise, it’s perfectly safe.”

Ginger stared at the planter and then the man.  “What do you mean ‘otherwise’?”

“It’s cursed.”  The man smiled and played with his mustache again.

Ginger’s eyes widened.  “Wow.”

“Oh, come on,” Katy said.

“You don’t believe in curses, Miss Wilson?”  If the man’s mustache had had a long enough end, he’d be twirling it by now.

“I don’t,” she said.  “Especially about little men who cost twenty dollars.”

“I hardly believed it myself until an old woman came into my shop one day and recognized it.  She claimed the curse was why my customers kept returning it,” he said.  “She told me there’d been a death associated with it.”

“Did it kill any of the women who bought it from you?” Ginger asked.

“Not a one, but I’ll tell you…“  The man leaned toward them as if trying to keep the story secret when, in fact, there wasn’t anyone else in the shop.  “They didn’t seem normal.  They had a look in their eyes…”

Ginger got caught up in his BS, inclining her head toward his.  “What kind of look?”

“Feverish,” he said, almost in a whisper.  “Obsessed.”

“I promise not to get obsessed with him, even if he is decently hung,” Katy said.

“Fine,” the man said.  “Keep him dry, and don’t return him.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2142

authoralicegaines@yahoo.com

Watch this space

I'm finally going to dip my toes into the ocean of self-publishing with an erotic Victorian romance called The Sixth Lover.  This cover was made by Talina Perkins of Bookin' It Designs, who made the banner at the top of the blog.  Isn't it lovely?

It's the love, dummy

This blog is part of Naughty Edition Review's Pride Month Celebration

http://www.naughtyeditionreviews.com

I live in Oakland, California, right over the Bay Bridge from San Francisco.  I’m usually pretty leery of what goes on over there, in large part because it’s sport for the folks on the western side of the bay to try to make themselves look important by putting us down.  But something remarkable happened in Fog City on February 12 of 2004 - right on time for Valentine’s Day.  Then mayor Gavin Newsome ordered the clerks in city hall to start issuing marriage licenses to male/male and female/female couples.

I was raised to believe that people are people, born with the same hopes and needs and rights as everyone else.  As a result, I was always for equal justice for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender men and women.  I was proud to make my home in a part of the country where LGBT Americans could live openly as who they are.  So, I was excited that San Francisco was marrying same sex couples, even if the exact status of their marriages outside the city wouldn’t be clear.

Looking back from nine years later, I don’t remember exactly what I expected to see going on in SF city hall.  I was probably thinking of something like the Pride Parade - a lot of flamboyant fun.  Instead, the images on my television were so…well…ordinary.  People; some young, some old; some slender, some plush; some pretty, some not so much.  Different heights and different ethnicities.  But all just regular folks.  Some were dressed in tuxes and wedding dresses.  Some brought their children with them.

The citizens of San Francisco made it into a great party.  Florists sent flowers.  Bakeries sent cakes.  I had half a mind to go over there wearing a sign “I’ll cry at your wedding,” because I spent a lot of time watching the television with happy tears in my eyes.  All these ordinary people were finally exercising the right that I had when I’d married my husband.  Who knew how long some of them had waited for their special day?

My thinking had a tectonic shift from watching those weddings.  I’d always been for equal rights, and I’d figured what consenting adults did in their bedrooms was their business.  Now, I realized that what I was talking about was love, not sex.  Sure, physical intimacy comes with love, but it doesn’t define love or encompass all of love’s complexity.  Think of all he innocent things people in love do to show affection.  Flowers, cards, touches, pecks on the cheek - acts you can do in front of the children.  Now, these couples could enjoy all of those little treasures with the blessing of the City and County of San Francisco.

Sadly, the marriages ended in San Francisco after a few weeks, and same sex couples weren’t allowed to marry again in California until June of 2008, when a state Supreme Court ruling made marriage equality the law.  Then, even more tragically, on election day in November of 2008 the state constitution was amended by ballot initiative to disallow gay and lesbian couples from exercising their full rights as citizens.  Proposition Eight, or as we like to call it, Prop H8.  My state has swung back and forth and ended up in the wrong place, but in my heart, I know the setback is only temporary.

In the meantime, other states are moving toward justice and love and away from fear and ignorance.  In Massachusetts, loving same sex couples have been free to marry since shortly after Gavin Newsom’s gutsy move.  Now, twelve states and the District of Columbia have come over to the side of fairness.

The sky hasn’t fallen.  The marriages of heterosexual couples are still intact.  The more we see happily married men with men and women with women…and their children…the more we discover how perfectly ordinary the whole thing is.

As soon as we have equality back in California, where it started that Valentine’s Day weekend in 2004, the church I attend will have weddings for our same sex couples who want to commit to each other until death do them part.  I’ll sit in my pew and bawl like a baby.  I can’t wait!

If you'd like to enter to win a copy of my MMF romance novella, Time Pirate,

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2057

leave a comment here or follow me on Twitter at:

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I'll announce a winner on Monday, June 10