Author Archives: alicegaines

99 cents sale – limited time

For the next few days, Entangled Publishing is featuring my contemporary, steamy romance, Just One Week, for 99 cents.

Keeping his hands off is a test he’s bound to fail…

Her brother’s best friend is not only the hottest man Michelle Dennis has ever seen, he’s the reason she left town eight years ago. Of course he’s the one waiting at the airport. Worse, he made sure they’re staying in the same house.

Alex Stafford is expecting to pick up his friend’s kid sister, not a full-fledged bombshell. He was planning to apologize for their past, but the feelings he had years ago come roaring back…and this time, there’s no denying them.

Keeping his hands off is a test he’s bound to fail—especially when they’re stuck in close quarters. But falling in love with Michelle, living in her world, isn’t an option for a guy like him. And remembering that will save them both a lot of heartache…


“Alice Gaines will tantalize your romance tastebuds with a book you can’t put down until the very last page.” – Jasmine Haynes, New York Times bestselling author of Somebody’s Love



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Some of my favorite covers by Alice Gaines

I have to admit to a weakness for bodice rippers–you know, the old historical romance covers where one member of the couple is ripping the other’s clothing off.  The idea being that they’re too excited to wait to undo buttons and hooks but have to get to each other’s bodies NOW!  After I learned that it’s almost impossible to rip the front of a dress but that the back would have a seam that might give way, I decided to have my  hero do that with my heroine in my first ever published historical romance.  Voila!  Waitangi Nights.

waitanginights  Dorchester Publishing did a wonderful job with that cover by filling it full of orchids.  The heroine was an orchid nurserywoman working for a rich and handsome man who lived in New Zealand.  By the middle they’d become lovers.  By the end, they’d become husband and wife.

In the olden days, publishers would hire two models and a photographer to do a photo shoot.  Then, they’d send the pictures to an artist who’d create an acrylic painting.  Publishers used to brag they paid more for the cover than they paid the author for the book.  I don’t know why they thought we’d appreciate that.

These days, photographers do the shoots with models and put the images up for authors and publishers to buy the right to use on covers.  Most people don’t pay to buy the image outright so the hero and heroine can appear on multiple covers.  That honestly doesn’t bother me that  much because we all hire wonderful graphic artists to make our covers unique and beautiful.

Here’s one I truly love.  CC_Alice Gaines_Cover (1)This was for Captain and Countess, my Kindle Scout winner.  I adore the intense color and how the man’s hand caresses the woman’s shoulder blade.  I also like the way she has one hand over her breast and the other tickling the back of his neck and his ear.  It suggests a bit of modesty but also a desire to touch him.  This is a Jenn LeBlanc image done up by my graphic artist, Talina Perkins of Bookin’ It Designs.



And here’s another one by Jenn and Talina.

TSL_AG_1563You may not be able to see the lovely flowers in the background.  I told Talina the couple is in Italy, and I wanted a garden setting.  Again, I think the cover suggests a combination of innocence and carnality.  I only learned later that my friend, Isobel Carr, who’s a perfect stickler for historical accuracy, sewed the garment the woman is wearing.

Here’s another but this time from a contemporary romance.  It’s still rather exotic in that the hero is a prince from a small Eastern European country.


I bought the right to use the hero and heroine, and Talina put in the background.  I love it because it suggests a palace, which is the setting of much of the book.

So,  how about you?  What makes a cover make you sit up and take notice.  I’d love to have your opinion, either here or at my e-mail




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Just for fun, an eXcerpt by Alice Gaines

This is from my first self-published book, which is frankly erotic for the first half and a romance for the second half.  I hope you enjoy it.  As usual, you can join my mailing list at


Shortly after the beginning of the second act, Carole had her first visitor—a woman, long-limbed, very elegant and most likely in her fifties. She forged her way right in and took the chair next to Carole’s.

She smoothed an errant curl with a bit of gray in it back from her temple. “Well, young lady, you’ve caused quite a stir. No doubt that was your intent.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Ah, American,” the woman said. “No wonder no one recognized you.”

“Mrs. Carole Rose from New York.”

Instead of doing the obviously courteous thing—returning the introduction—her visitor pretended to look around. “Mr. Rose doesn’t seem to be in attendance.”

“He died several months ago.”

“My condolences. My mouth gets away from me sometimes. I’m Bertina Hammond, Lady Blakely, but my friends call me Bert.”

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Blakely.”

“Well done, Mrs. Rose.” The lady’s smile broadened.

“Because I addressed you formally?”

“Because you didn’t assume I’m your friend.”

The music swelled as the tenor finished his aria. Applause rolled through the theater, as people jumped to their feet. Maybe some of them had listened to the singing. Carole also rose, as did her visitor. They clapped politely for a while and then sat back down.

“So, have you satisfied your curiosity, Lady Blakely?” Carole asked.

“Not entirely.”

“I’m not very interesting.”

The lady laughed. You couldn’t call it actual mirth, but it had a musical quality to it. “A woman alone in one of the best boxes? You had to know you’d attract attention.”

“I hadn’t counted on you to visit.”

“I daresay not, but ah, yes…here he is.”

Lady Blakely turned toward the back of the box, and Carole followed her gaze. Mr. Harthorn entered, went straight to her visitor, and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

“Hello, Bert,” he said.

“Hello, darling,” Lady Blakely answered. “I might have known you’d show up.”

“I can never stay away from you for long,” he answered.

“Liar.” Lady Blakely patted his cheek and rose. “Behave yourself with Mrs. Rose here. She’s American and doesn’t understand our ways.”

“No one understands your ways, Bert,” the man said.

“You’re such a bastard.” The lady rested her hand on Carole’s shoulder. “Watch out for this one.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Carole said.

Lady Blakely left the box with an angry rustle of silk.

Mr. Harthorn sat in the now vacant chair next to Carole. “You mustn’t pay any attention to Bert. Her claws are sharp but don’t go very deep.”

“Do all people in England wander in without an introduction?” Carole asked.

“We’ve met.”

She studied him. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, and his sable hair curled around his collar in a style too long for proper fashion. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he cut quite a figure. He was an indecently attractive man and obviously knew it.

“This afternoon, although we weren’t introduced,” he said. “I’m Roger Harthorn, as I’m sure your companion told you. She was quite scandalized.”

“You know Mrs. Carter?”

“I’ve observed her type often enough.” He gave her an insolent smile that dazzled, even in the near-darkness of the theater. “The posture gives them away as well as they way they pretend not to be staring. Dudgeon of the highest order.”

She couldn’t help but smile, too. He’d described the solicitor’s wife to a T.

“Do you enjoy the opera, Mr. Harthorn?” she asked.

“I tolerate it well enough,” he answered. “You?”

“I like it very much.”

“Don’t tell me I’ve finally met someone who comes here for the music,” he said.

“I’ll admit that wasn’t my only reason.” Her cheeks grew warm. They’d be quite pink now, but with any luck, he wouldn’t notice in the dim light. She’d never learned how to flirt, and at her age, she’d probably never catch up.

“You hoped to be seen, or you wouldn’t have taken a whole box for yourself,” Harthorn said. “I hope the person’s worth all the trouble and expense.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“A man. Of course. Give me his name, and I’ll arrange an introduction.”

Damn. What did she say to that? She didn’t have a name and didn’t want to meet anyone else, anyway. but she’d never find the nerve to tell Harthorn she’d come looking for him.

“A secret, eh? Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s seen you.” Harthorn rested his arm on the back of her chair and leaned close enough to put his lips near her ear. “He noticed you this afternoon well enough.”

Ah, yes. The brush of his fingers on her table as he’d gone by. “I don’t see how you could know that.”

“Mrs. Rose, let’s not toy with each other.” His voice came low and sweet, his breath tickling her ear. “We forged a connection this afternoon.”

“You’re exaggerating a bit, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. I haven’t reacted this powerfully to a woman since I was a lad.” He took her hand and set it in his lap, pressing her palm against the front of his pants.

Oh, dear Lord. She tried to pull her fingers away, but he held them there. “I got this way from simply watching you sip tea.”

Her heart hammered, and she had to remind herself to breathe. After all these months, she had her hand on a man’s member. Through his pants, yes, but the outline was unmistakable—long and thick and so very hard. Exactly what she craved. Deep inside, her own sex got the connection he’d spoken of. Despite the impossible situation, her pussy felt empty, begging for what it hadn’t had for so long.

No—had never had. Oscar was never like this.

“So, will you slap my face now?” Harthorn asked.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No.”

“By God, you’re direct. An Englishwoman would have dodged and dallied.”

“I’m too old to dally,” she said.

“And thank the Almighty for that.” He bent toward her again, this time placing a soft kiss on the naked skin of her shoulder. “May I know your first name?”

“It’s Carole.”

“Carole,” he repeated, before gently nibbling his way toward her neck. Her breathing grew labored as he left pinpricks of fire everywhere he touched her.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered against her throat.

“You’d better stop. Someone might see.”

He straightened and turned her head toward his. “You’re an innocent.”

“I was married for ten years.”

“But you’re still innocent, aren’t you?”

“I knew my husband on our wedding night.” She tried again to free her hand from where it rested against his crotch. He still didn’t release it.

“But you were a virgin then,” he said.

“That’s the way it’s usually done.”

“How sweet.” That delicious smile curled his mouth. “And you haven’t had a man since he died.”

Since some months before, but she couldn’t betray her husband by confessing it. Instead, she bit her lip and did her best to calm her trembling.

“That only makes me hotter, Carole. My cock’s throbbing now,” he said.

“Shall I stroke it?” Good Lord in heaven, where had that come from? “Through the fabric, I mean.”

A light of pure mischief entered his eyes. “You’d like to do that?”

“I find it fascinating.” She squeezed him, pressing the head with the tips of her fingers. “Could I make you spend that way?”

He sucked in a breath. “I daresay you could.”

“Would anyone notice, do you think?”

“They can’t see into my lap.”

“Will they see this?” She reached lower, between his legs where his sac would be and stroked it softly. That took the mischief from his eyes, but his lips still stayed in that lazy smile. He turned back toward the stage, pretending to follow the opera, but they both knew none of the music penetrated his brain.

What fun. She’d never, in her life, expected to do anything like this, but Thomas had opened her mind to all kinds of delicious possibilities. Thomas. Darling Thomas. Why had she never asked him if he liked opera? She’d have to do that in her next letter. Then, she’d have to ask if he’d like to sit in a public place with her hand on his cock. For now, she’d pretend he was here with her now as she used gentle pressure against the length of his shaft. Up, down, and up again to linger at the tip.

“You do that very well,” Harthorn said. “I wouldn’t think you inexperienced.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He let out a soft moan. “This won’t take long at all.”

“You mustn’t give anything away with your expression,” she said. “Your friend, Bert, may be watching us.”

“She won’t tell. She likes her husband’s money too much.”

“And you know secrets he wouldn’t want to hear,” she said.

“I say…” His eyes drifted halfway shut. “Could we discuss it later?”

“Of course.” She moved her fingers faster, gripping him as tightly as she could manage through the wool of his pants. He sat rigidly, and his eyes went out of focus with pleasure.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Something filthy.”

“Would you like to fuck me, Roger?” There. She’d said it. The worst word she knew.

“God, yes.”

“I’d like that, too. My cunny’s getting damp for you.” That was no lie. Who would have thought that she, a virtuous widow with hardly a dirty thought until a few months ago, would find herself with a perfect stranger like this? Sitting in public, stimulating his sex and telling him she wanted him. “But you won’t have me, will you? No, you’re going to spend in your pants like a schoolboy.”

“Oh…ah…don’t stop.”

“No one can know what I’m doing to you, or I will stop,” she said. “Promise me you won’t make a noise when you come.”

He gritted his jaw. “Bloody hell.”

“Do it, or I’ll leave you hanging.” She paused in her work on his tool. She wouldn’t leave him this way. If nothing else, she wanted to see what he’d do when the climax hit him.

“I promise,” he said in a strangled whisper. “Have mercy. Finish me.”

She squeezed the tip of him and then stroked his length—hard and fast, all the way to the base. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as his body stiffened. His hips jerked as he climaxed, but he made no sound above a soft grunt. Such a sight he made—the male animal consumed by lust. She’d never watched a man’s face at the ultimate moment before. She’d see Thomas in this state eventually, and he’d witness her ecstasy, too. Right now, Roger Harthorn slumped against his chair, breathing heavily. She finally reclaimed her hand setting it in her own lap.

“That was extraordinary,” he said softly.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Like? My dear Carole. The word is inadequate.”

Pride glowed inside her. The idea of taking other lovers had seemed silly and even morally bankrupt when she only wanted one man—Thomas. but she could learn so much before she joined him. How much better to go to him fully prepared to fulfill his wildest fantasies than to have to grope blindly for just the right caresses to make him wild with wanting her.

Yes, Thomas had had it right. She’d experiment with other men and give the benefit of her lessons to her ultimate lover.

“You’re grown pensive,” Roger said. “That didn’t repulse you, did it?”

“Not at all.”

“You seemed willing. Even eager.” His face showed uncertainty, even worry. For heaven’s sake, the scandalous fellow who’d bedded any woman he wanted, actually cared about her opinion of him.

“It was a revelation,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Nor have I. I usually entertain the lady.” The wicked heat returned to his eyes. “Would you like me to do the same for you?”

She nearly gasped with surprise. “Your hand under my skirts at the opera?”

“Not right now. It’ll be intermission soon.”

“You’ll have to rejoin your friends,” she said.

“Eyebrows will rise if I don’t.”

“Eyebrows have probably already risen.”

“No doubt about that.” He chuckled. “Still, I want enough time to do the job properly.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Will you be here tomorrow night?”

She smiled and nodded.

“I’ll see you then.” He leaned toward her again. “In the meantime, don’t touch your pearl. I want it hungry for my touch.”

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Thou shalt be merry…or else. By Alice Gaines

Call me Ebenezer.  The “holiday” season is not my favorite time of the year, and I suspect I’m not alone.  First of all, many of us simply don’t do well with short days.  We need sunlight to keep our spirits high.  (I swear if I were rich I’d have a house in the northern AND southern hemispheres so I could follow the sun.)  Then again, some of us have experienced loss around the holidays, and we just don’t feel like being merry.  Couple that with the conviction everyone else is having a glorious time and we should, too, whether we want to or not, and this time of year becomes a real bummer.

Having said all of the above, it’s still the case that I’m about the worst Pollyanna you’ll ever meet.  Happiness is my natural state.  So, this year, I thought I’d list a few small things that can bring a smile to my face and get me to singing to myself.

Number 1, and this one is truly simply.  Happiness is walking on the treadmill at the gym when an old Marvin Gaye song comes on my Pandora.  (For me, happiness is being at the gym, but I don’t expect I can make you feel the same way.)  So, here’s this wonderful music, and right in the middle of a song I’ve heard hundreds of time, some lyrics jump out at me:

“As long as you’re moving, there’s always a chance somebody watching might want to make romance.”

Is that lovely and profound, or what?  (Hint:  “what” is not the correct answer.)

Number 2.  Looking in the freezer for something else and finding pesto I’ve made over the summer.  Pesto tastes like summer.  It just does.  Furthermore, I make it from the basil I grow in my back yard.  Then, I package it in individual servings so when the weather is bleak and cold, I can put it on pasta and smile.  Occasionally, I forget about one of the bags of pesto servings, so when I discover it by chance, I’m a happy camper.  More on pasta…

Number 3.  Playing with my food.  I had an event cancel the other day and found myself with a couple of free hours.  I decided to make some pasta dough and play with shapes.  For an hour or so, I did my best imitation of orecchiette, which is Italian for little ears.  Here’s how they came out.


I’m sure an Italian nonna would laugh at my primitive attempts, but I had fun.  I imagine children would enjoy playing with shapes and then eating their creations.  BTW, here’s a simple pasta recipe for a food processor.  Put 1 cup flour and 1 tsp salt in the food processor.  With the motor running, add one egg.  Then add water in drops until the dough forms a ball on top of the blade.  Remove from processor and knead with more flour until the dough is no longer sticky.  Let the dough rest for 10 minutes, and then play.

Number 4.  Orchid bud!  I recently ordered a couple of mini-cattleya orchids from the wonderful folks at Carter and Holmes.  When they arrived, one of them already had a bud on it.  It’ll flower soon.


This picture is really fuzzy, but I imagine you can pick out the little bud.  Instant happiness, and lest you think I spent a lot of money, the plant cost under $20, including shipping.


So, when the holidays don’t live up to their publicity, remember they go away on their own on January 2.  You can’t say the same about car repairs or problems with the IRS.  Make your own happiness.  And in a while you’ll be rewarded by one of life’s greatest joys…seed catalogs.

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When I should be writing, Alice Gaines

How I spend my time when I should be writing:

On Saturday, I spent the entire day driving from Oakland to outside Sacramento for a wine party.  My friend, Roger Smith, who plays keyboards for Tower of Power, has his own winery, Bump City Winery.  I went up for his wine party.  Here’s Roger’s pick-up band playing at the party.  wineparty Roger is standing at the keyboard on the right.  On saxophone was Tower of Power’s lead sax player, Tom Politzer.  Note the young woman on bass in the back.  She really tore it up!

So, I got hopelessly lost on the way home, wandering around on levee roads on the Sacramento Delta.  When I finally called On Star, they gave me a roundabout path home that included two ferries across Delta water ways.  At least, I got home with this:

wineIf you know anything about the Bay Area, you’ll recognize the picture on the label as the San Francisco skyline.  Everybody knows! that Bump City is Oakland, not the city across the bay.  I tease Roger about this at every opportunity.

So, how did I spend Sunday when I should have been writing?  Making pasta sauce.  Here’s my favorite recipe.  I use my own homegrown tomatoes that I’ve peeled, seeded, and frozen.  I also use my own bell pepper and basil.  And my own chicken broth.  You can use a couple of cans of whole tomatoes.  Just crush the tomatoes with your fingers.  You can use water instead of chicken broth, but the broth makes the sauce richer.

In a food processor, make a pestata of lots of peeled garlic cloves, some sprigs of basil, about three pieces of bacon (or pancetta or guancale, if you have those), about half a large onion, and a small bell pepper.  Grind it all up really well.

Heat a bunch of good olive oil in a large pan.  When hot, add the pestata.  Cook for a while.  Make a hot spot in the middle of the pan, and add a few tablespoons of tomato sauce.  Add some red pepper flakes and cook pretty well.  Add the tomatoes and cook down.  Add some chicken broth and cook for a few hours, adding more broth as required.  When it’s sauce the way you like it, you can freeze it in serving batches.  In the middle of winter, this sauce puts summer in my mouth.

peppersBy the way, my Regency romance, Captain and Countess, is on sale at Amazon for 99 cents.  For a limited time only.

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Another new release by Alice Gaines

New from Changeling Press:  Earth Con, Mated


For the sake of her people, Princess Meriane must mate with an Earth man to bring more diversity into the gene pool. When she’s conceived a child, her mate will join the other males in the men’s colony. In this way, her culture has perpetuated itself in peace for generations after banning the hated Triani from their midst. Finding a proper bed partner shouldn’t be hard at Earth Con, should it?

Zarim has been sent to Earth Con to masquerade as an Earther in order to worm his way into Meriane’s bed and her heart. When he finds himself falling in love with the virginal but feisty princess, he has to discover a method to make peace between their peoples. Unfortunately, his very identity makes him an outcast on her planet.

Read an excerpt (not work safe).  At the bottom, you’ll see what I’m raffling off to someone on my newsletter list.

Before Meriane could change her mind, she dropped the blanket to the floor and stripped out of her underclothing.  Now naked, she grasped the shower curtain and pulled it back far enough for her to climb in.

“Welcome, Princess,” Zarim said.  “Let me wash your back.”

The water was, indeed, heavenly.  She let it run all over her body, the spray little pinpricks of pleasure.  True to his word, he lathered his hands and spread them over her shoulders and massaged the muscles.  With a sigh, she tipped her head to the side to give him better access.

“That’s it,” he said.  “Feel good?”

“My yes.”

“I can make you feel even better if you let me touch you all over.”

“I’m not sure I should.”  Yes, yes, yes.

“I won’t do anything your committee needs to hear about,” he said.  “You’ll still be a virgin.”

“You promise?”

“I haven’t lied to you yet, have I?”

Logical.  Granted, he hadn’t told her anything about himself, so he hadn’t had an opportunity to lie, but maybe that was being picky.  He could have taken advantage of her the night before and hadn’t.  He’d only helped her.

“I’d like that,” she said.

“Believe me, so would I.”  He tugged her back against him.  He must have lost his erection, or she’d feel it against her backside now.  He couldn’t take her virginity without one, so he had to be telling her the truth.  Now he wrapped his arms around her and lathered his hands in front of her.  After setting the soap aside, he cupped her breasts and worked the flesh with strong fingers.  Oh my, he’d been right about making her feel good.  She seemed to swell to fill his palms, and her nipples stiffened.  When he circled the peaks with his thumbs, something surged inside her.  The same excitement she’d felt since the beginning in his presence, but so much more intense.  For a moment, she forgot to breathe, and she had to work for air.  Other parts of her body responded as well, especially between her legs.  He hadn’t touched her there, but the sensitive flesh craved him, nevertheless.  This was dangerous and delicious, and she’d let him do exactly what he wanted.

Again, he soaped his hands.  This time, he wrapped an arm firmly around her, still cupping one breast.  Then he ran a palm over her belly toward her sex.

As if he knew about the ache between her thighs, his fingers went directly there, into the hairs covering her sex.  She shouldn’t let him touch her there.  It was forbidden territory except for her mate.  But she’d already granted him so much, and no one would know what happened in this place so far away from Phaena.  And he’d created such a need inside her.  Such a craving that if he didn’t do something to ease the throbbing she’d have to do it herself.

When he parted the lips there, he took away any power to tell him to stop.  She’d already consented by allowing him to go this far, and his touch felt so blessed good.

Then he found the exact spot — the little organ at the very center of her existence.  When he rubbed it, she whimpered and leaned back against him.

His arm still supported her, or she would have fallen.  She was melting from the inside out, her bones pliant.  All her concentration was focused on that one place.  As he rubbed and stroked it, she had to struggle for breath.  Yes, she’d touched herself before and understood the resulting pleasure.  This was so far out of her experience as to create a new world of sensation.

“You’re going to come for me, Princess,” he whispered into her ear.  Something else registered, too.  He’d grown hard again, and the length of his shaft pressed against her buttocks.  If they were to mate, he’d put the thing inside her.  Until that moment, she’d never understood how her body could accept something so large.  Now her sex commanded it.  Could he take her right here in the shower?  What position would work?

“Your sweet pussy is so wet,” he said.  Now he stroked the inside of the lips, and they swelled and grew heavy.  She was indeed moist, and not just from the shower still pelting her front.  Each stroke of his fingers drew more from her, and each time he landed on her clitoris, she rushed closer to completion and transformation.

“I want to hear you sing,” he said as he continued pressing her secret spot.  The storm built and built inside her.  She’d already given up on rational thought and even her other senses.  Nothing existed except the pressure against her most sensitive flesh.  She could only rest against him and let him finish what he’d started.  Any moment now.  Please, please…

Then the bonds holding her to reality snapped, and she soared into orgasm.  For a moment, it crushed the breath from her, and then she was crying out as her sex clenched and released rhythmically.  Unbelievable, although she couldn’t deny the voice bounding off the tiles was hers.  Nothing had ever felt like that.  She wouldn’t have believed it possible if anyone had told her she could respond so forcefully.

Eventually, it ended, and she remained cradled against his body as a sweet lethargy settled over her.

I’ll be raffling off this cowl to someone on my newsletter list.  To join the list, visit my blog at http://www.alicegaines.blogspot.comsmallponcho


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New release by Alice Gaines


New release from Entangled Lovestruck.  Just One Week.  Out September 12.

“Alice Gaines will tantalize your romance taste buds with a book you can’t put down until the very last page.” NYT bestselling author Jasmine Haynes

Her brother’s best friend is not only the hottest man Michelle Dennis has ever seen, he’s the one man she hopes to avoid after leaving town eight years ago. Of course he’s the one waiting at the airport. Worse, he made sure they’re staying in the same house.

Pro football player Alex Stafford is expecting to pick up his friend’s kid sister, not a full-fledged bombshell. He was planning to apologize for their past, but the feelings he had years ago come roaring back…and this time, there’s no denying them.

Keeping his hands off is a test he’s bound to fail—especially when they’re stuck in close quarters. But falling in love with Michelle, living in her world, isn’t an option for a guy like him. And remembering that will save them both a lot of heartache…

Read below for an x-rated excerpt:  (Not work safe)

Michelle awoke from an incredibly erotic dream to discover the reason she’d become so hot and bothered. In her dreamscape, the man making love to her had Alex’s face and an incredibly huge erection. Something she’d never be able to enjoy in reality, but for sleep-induced fantasy, it worked just fine.

The actual cause of her arousal became clear as consciousness dawned. Alex had reached around her, and his fingers had parted the lips of her sex. One now toyed with her using the same amazing technique he’d done with his tongue the night before.

“What are you doing?” she said, her voice breathy with sexual excitement.

“Thought that would get your attention,” he answered.

Another reality penetrated the fog in her brain. He’d become erect, the outline of his hardness pressed against her ass. The texture of latex against her skin told her he’d managed to put on a condom without waking her.

He was going to give her sleepy sex—the kind you simply enjoyed and didn’t worry about your own response or your partner’s. Just for the hell of it, she let her mind drift back to her dream, and she was taking that huge instrument inside her and it was pushing her closer and closer to climax.

Just when things couldn’t get any more heavenly, he shifted, lifting her leg up and over his and positioning himself to enter her. Spread wide like this, she felt impaled on him as he filled her completely. Now, she had him stretching her while his fingers continued his magic on her most sensitive flesh.

Pleasure so absolute she couldn’t bear it, and yet it got even better as he moved inside her. If she’d thought the night before had been a fluke, she had to admit now that Alex could make her body respond in ways she’d never imagined. And she selfishly took all he was giving her with no thought to satisfying him. She’d pay him back. Oh yes, she would.

He was driving faster now, and he rubbed harder. As the arousal built to unimaginable levels, she gave in to the inevitable. The orgasm rushed through her, starting at the spot between her legs and radiating out to encompass her entire being. She shouted as the spasms started, and she gripped him again and again. So intense. So beautiful.

Behind her, he stiffened, and he let out a muffled roar against her shoulder. He’d be coming, too, making her climax all the more powerful.

After a minute, they lay together, both working for breath. He still held her against him as if he’d found a treasure.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said finally.

“You sure know how to wake a girl up.”

“Not just any girl. You.”

To celebrate the release, I’ll be raffling off this pair of hand-crocheted stole to someone on my mailing list.   multicolorshawl To join my mailing list, go to my blog:

Categories: Alice Gaines, erotic, Giveaway, New Release, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

New release by Alice Gaines (and a raffle)

New release from Changeling Press:  Earth Con, Jazzed Up


Now available at

Zara represents the force of life and love through sex. Origin has sent her into the universe to battle her counterpart, an escaped spirit who brings enslavement and death. She’s followed Raven to Earth Con to save humans from Raven’s evil. What she doesn’t expect to discover is a human with the power of Origin strong inside him.

Nolan Price lost his sister to a cult, and since then he’s devoted himself to freeing other victims. He never thought to encounter a charismatic leader from another part of the universe. Nor did he understand the depths of his own strength.

To celebrate, I’ll be raffling off these wrist warmers to someone on my mailing list.  If you’d like to join, go to wristwarmers

And now read on for an x-rated excerpt.  🙂

“It’s my nature. Come on.” With that, Zara turned and went into the bedroom. He followed, of course, and closed the sliding glass door behind them. They were going to get pretty loud in a minute, and the people by the pool didn’t have to overhear their orgasms.

She sat on the bed to remove her boots and then rose to begin a strip-tease. He never would have believed getting out of a T-shirt could be sexy, but at this point, everything she did had his blood at the simmer. She shed that and the badge, letting them fall by the bed. Now she was down to a flight-suit sort of costume. Form-fitting. It showed off her lush hips and small breasts. He did his best concentrate on getting rid of his own clothing as she pulled down the zipper of her outfit and shrugged it over her shoulders.

As she exposed more and more of her body, the idea of her being a sex goddess became believable. He could bury his nose in the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent. His own uniform came off without a hitch, but he had to tug at his shorts to get them over his erection.

When she saw him, she licked her lips as if she was already tasting his swollen flesh, and his knees almost buckled. He’d never had a fever like this for a woman, and he’d better get her onto the bed before he came just looking at her.

She either felt the same way or took pity on him, because she positioned herself on the comforter, her legs spread, and opened her arms to him. He went to her immediately and covered her body with his own. What little sanity he had left told him to hold his weight off her, and he took her mouth in a kiss as her breasts pressed against his chest. Her belly made the perfect pillow for his erection, and his hips flexed of their own power, pushing his cock against her.

“Do you see what I mean?” she whispered.

“Yes, oh God, yes.” He’d agree to anything at this point.

“I want you.”

She sure as hell was going to have him, but even drugged with passion as he was, he’d still take the time to get her as excited as he was. He slid aside to allow his hand access to her mound. His fingers contacted moisture, and he parted her pussy lips in search of her clit.

When he found it, she let out a yip, and her hips lifted upward. She was hot, too, as hungry as he was. He’d fuck her good and hard but not until he’d played with her for a while. He continued with firm strokes over her clitoris, pressing and rolling it until she writhed.

Oh yeah, this was sex the way it was supposed to be. Uncomplicated, blocking out the rest of the world, boiling existence down to sights and sounds and nerve endings. All his nerve endings had gone to the top of the scale and would soon take him over the edge.

Even better, she responded as if she felt the same way. Her breathing came raggedly, her breasts rising and falling, and a deep flush went from her cheeks over her neck and down to her chest. A woman as close to orgasm as he was.

With no more need to delay, he took his position between her legs with his cock ready to bury itself in her pussy and drove himself home with one thrust. She immediately climaxed, her muscles clamping down on him and then bursting into spasms. She shouted as she came — the powerful song of a woman finding ecstasy. As though he were the greatest lover on earth.

Somehow, he managed to hold on to a thread of control and hung back from the brink so he could bask in her body’s praise of him. He held himself above her, not moving except for the trembling of his arms. After a moment, her eyes opened, and she stared up at him with an expression of pure shock in her face.

“You’re not supposed to be able to do that,” she said.

“Not give you an orgasm? You must have had some piss-poor lovers in your day.”

“You’re not supposed to be able to resist,” she said.

Categories: Alice Gaines, Erotica, Excerpt, sci fi romance, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Bay Area Book Festival by Alice Gaines

On June 5, I took part in a panel discussion at the Bay Area Book Festival in Berkeley.  (Yes, that Berkeley.)  The second annual festival, and the first time they invited a bunch of romance writers to speak.  Only a little slow.  🙂

The gave us the fabulous subject Romance and Feminism:  From Bodice Rippers to Trailblazers.  Here’s our panel.  grouppic  In the back, Beth Barany (moderator) and Aya deLeon and in the front Moi, Kristin Miller, and Gail Carriger.

Although I adored the subject, I had to laugh a bit.  I started reading and writing romance in the heyday of bodice rippers, and I have a fewe books with covers to prove it.  The women in romance novels were always trailblazers–independent women with goals of their own who required their men to fit into their lives, not the other way around.  This is nothing new, but it’s nice to have the outside world notice.

I have to admit to some trepidation when I consider taking part in literary events other than those specifically about romance.  I’m always afraid someone is going to look down his nose (likely his, not hers) at what I write.  I expect questions like “Are you ever going to write a real book?” or “Romance is just porn for women, right?”

None of those things happened.  We had an overflow crowd with people standing in the hallway outside.  The audience was receptive and enthusiastic.  It was a fabulous experience.

goodpaneI decided to address the subject of feminism in historical romance.  It seemed an apt topic because in historicals our heroines live in societies where they had relatively little power and freedom.  But our heroines manage to stick up for themselves very well.  I mentioned my own historicals, which include such heroines as a professional orchid nurserywoman, a jewel thief, a wealthy American who wants to follow Darwin’s journeys around South American, and an American heiress who wants to sleep her way across Europe.  No shrinking violets these ladies.

Here I am holding up one of my bodice ripper and bookOverall, it was a fabulous experience, and if I’m asked to do it again next year, I’ll jump at the chance.  If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area, be sure to check out the book festival.

And by the way, I’ll have two releases next month, so I’ll be raffling off more of my handknitted items to someone on my mailing list.  Here’s one of the items:

IwristwarmersIf you’d like to enter to win these wrist warmers (and a couple of other things), visit my blog.  The form is on the front page.



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Reduced price for this month only (Alice Gaines)

This month, Amazon is featuring my sexy Regency romance, Captain and Countess.  It’s on sale for $1.99 for Kindle.

captainandcountessThe book won the Washington Romance Writers Marlene Award for historical romance and was one of the first books selected for the Kindle Scout program.  Here’s an excerpt:

Bess woke some time in the night to a strange sound. For a moment, she had to focus on where she was. Definitely not in her bedroom. In the dim light from the fire, she made out the interior of the gamekeeper’s cottage. Oh yes, the storm. She’d taken shelter here from wind and driving rain, both of which had died down. Not even a drip sounded on the roof above. So what was that noise?

Jason Northcross, of course. He was doing something in the chair by the fire. Could that be his teeth chattering?

“What are you doing over there?” she asked.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

His voice displayed displeasure in the extreme. What did he have to be angry about? He’d intruded on her, not the other way around.

“Is that your jaw clattering?” she asked.

“I’m cold, if you must know the truth.”

“Throw some more wood on the fire.”

“We don’t have much left,” he said. “I’m saving it.”

“In heaven’s name, for what?”

“For later. If the fire goes out, we’ll both become very cold, indeed.”

He had a point. She’d planned to bank the fire and stay warm with her own body heat, nestled under two blankets. Because of him, she’d had to make do with one. She’d grown a bit chilly herself. They had a problem, and only one solution offered itself. He’d resist, but neither of them had any choice, really.

“You’d better come get in bed.” With me. Dear Lord, what was she saying?

“I can’t do that, and you know very well why.” Delightful. He’d gone from sounding angry to petulant.

“This is hardly the lap of luxury,” she said. “Do you honestly mean to tell me that you couldn’t control yourself, even under these circumstances?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Somehow the chair still managed to creak.

“Neither of us will get warm and neither of us will get any sleep with you and your blanket over there,” she said.

He still didn’t utter a word. After a long moment, he sighed.

“Your brother and sister will be angry with me if you catch something dreadful,” she said.

“They wouldn’t approve of me making love with you, either.”

“They wouldn’t know if you didn’t tell them.”

He went back to silence, his body a rigid silhouette against the glow of the fire.

“Everyone’s going to be quite scandalized that we were out all night together, anyway,” she said.

“You’re giving me permission?” he whispered.

Now it was her turn for silence. He refused to take complete responsibility for what would happen next, if indeed she allowed it. In truth, she already had with her invitation. After their earlier encounters, neither he nor she could pretend any surprise that things would get out of hand if he got under the covers with her, especially as neither of them were fully dressed. And faced with the real possibility that she’d let him—no, ask him—to take the ultimate liberties with her, she finally had to admit the truth. She wanted him. She’d wanted him that first night after the opera. She’d wanted him in her rose garden and by the river. And she wanted him now, more than she wanted anything else in the world.

The fact that she’d protested the opposite for this long only spoke to a dishonesty she hadn’t thought herself capable of. She claimed she didn’t care what others thought of her, but she’d held him away for just that reason. As a widow taking a younger man to her bed, she could be the object of ridicule. Then, too, she had to face her fear that he’d find her less than perfect and might even regret dallying with her. And yet, if she turned him down, she’d always wonder what she’d missed.

“I am giving you permission,” she said. “Complete permission.”

For a moment, he still didn’t move. Then he let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. She might have been holding her own.

The chair creaked again as he rose. When he lifted the tails of his shirt and reached to the fastening of his pants, she looked away. She’d feel him soon enough. She could look later. His step came slowly as he approached the bed. He spread the second blanket on top of her and stood, looking down. He’d left his shirt on but was naked below. So big. So male. So absolutely beautiful.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

“For heaven’s sake, I was a married woman,” she said. “I’m not a virgin, Captain Northcross.”

“You’d better call me Jason, don’t you think?” With that, he lifted the blankets and slipped in beside her.

“Jason,” she said before he leaned over and kissed her.

His caresses had enflamed her before. Now only flimsy layers of linen separated them. The heat of his body surrounded her as he kissed her again and again. Tonight, she wouldn’t push him away. He wouldn’t stop himself, stating reluctance to harm her reputation or other such nonsense. Tonight, he’d show her what a healthy young man consumed with lust could do.

By the way, I’ll be raffling off more of my hand knitted items in July to celebrate the release of my contemporary romance, Just One Week, from Entangled Publishing.  If you’d like to join my newsletter list to be entered to win, go to my blog Here’s a picture of one of my past prizes. newpinkcowl

Categories: Alice Gaines, Excerpt, romance, Sale, Sex, Sexy, Uncategorized | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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