First Encounters in Provocative Romance Genre

One strong element in the provocative romance genre is a solid and gripping first meeting between our lovers. It’s what hooks us into reading the book fully.

Throughout history and in literature and film, first encounters open the doors to exciting experiences and unimaginable possibilities.

Check out the few short examples below:








I close the folder and put it aside. I still have time before the gate opens, and I already feel anxious. I lift my gaze to the people around me to see who I’d be flying with. We were never designed to fly like birds and of course, whenever I get into a “flying machine” I’m confronting my deepest fears. Naturally, I need to see if the people flying with me are composed and calm, because finding myself way up in the sky, sealed in a machine with my weak heart beating in my ears for eight hours, I’d definitely go crazy. 

A few people give me a fake smile, confirming my dread that I’m on my own on this flight. I radiate fear and nobody wants to come near me. I continue to observe around the room when I come across an intensive stare. No fake smile or anything. He’s standing on the other side of the gate, leaning on a pillar, and glaring at me unnervingly. Blond, messy hair, blue eyes, two day stubble. I blush instantly. I glance aside, and a few seconds later, back at him just to see if it’s me he’s looking at, but he hasn’t flinched, or changed the intensity of his stare. Then, just as I feel my stomach churning and the pull from his eyes become hypnotic, he looks away, turning his back on me. 

I blink a few times, I need a moment to compose myself. Men want only one thing, mom says. As long as I keep that in mind, I’ll be fine. 

The deep voice coming from his direction makes me look up again. It’s him. He excuses himself while he picks up his bag and, standing up straight, he starts walking towards me. I glance down, at my feet and, five seconds later I feel an overbearing presence next to me, and his eyes burning a hole on my skin. I wish my heart would stop beating so fast. He may hear it.  

I look up coolly, and reminding myself of my mom’s words, my eyes narrow a little. He picked the wrong girl to mess with. I may have been home-schooled and a sweet girl at home, but I learned how to be tough in the past six months. Or at least, how to act tough.  

“Eliza Cruz?” 


“Eliza Milli Cruz?” He repeats my name louder, his eyes inquisitively looking at me.    

I’m caught off guard by his presence, his scent and his all-encompassing existence. So I decide to stand up tersely, and seeing how tall he is, I straighten more. His worn leather jacket and stubble on his face are… are too close to me. 

“Yes. That’s me. She is I. I am her. Ahem.” 

“You are her, huh? Are you travelling overseas today?” 

“I-I am.”  

“Do you have your passport with you, gorgeous?” 

“My passport?” Why does he want my passport? I’m staring at him while with my hand I dig into my handbag checking if I have it. But I can’t find it. I panic; I cannot travel abroad if I don’t have my passport. “I… I don’t have it. I must have dropped it when I was walking down to the gate,” I look around me baffled, searching for it on the floor. Now is not a good time to lose my passport.  

I glance back at him again, but now I see him holding a passport in his hand and shaking his head at me like I’m an irresponsible child.  

“Give me that!” I quickly snatch it from his hand, check that it’s mine and tuck it safely inside my bag.  

“There’s no need for aggression, Miss Cruz.”  

“You should have handed me my passport the moment you saw me!” I press my index finger into his iron clad chest hoping to push him back a little. I fail miserably. He’s a wall of hard muscle, tall, with broad shoulders. Powerful thighs under his low waist jeans, and damn cool brown, ankle boots. “What? You didn’t think I’d do that?” 

“Do what, beautiful?” He locks eyes with me, calm, and clear blue. Taunting me again.   

“Look, asshole,” I slam my open palms against his chest. “Whoever you are, I don’t need you!” 

In a flash he grabs my left wrist and twists me around so fast that before I know I’m slammed on the wall, my twisted arm between us, and his body pressing mine firmly against the hard and cold surface. I have never been touched by someone’s full body length before. I can actually feel everything through my skirt and sweatshirt. With my face pressed flat on the wall, I notice the people staring at me, and I hear them gasping in shock, some looking around for help. 

“Watch where you put those pretty hands of yours next time,” he growls in my ear. 

“It’s okay everyone, I’m an FBI agent,” theatrically he pulls an identification card out of his pocket and waves it around.  

“What has she done?” I hear someone ask. 

“I was showing her how easy it would be to overpower someone her size,” he replies. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I hear people agreeing. 

“You look nothing like your picture,” he says softly.  

“Fuck you!” I huff quietly between my teeth.  

You just read the first encounter in the book Milli by Alexandra Iff



“The party is about to start!” the bartender says in my ear just as the music turns louder and at the same time the lights dim. “They’re having a bachelorette party tonight. You came at the right time. Here,” he pours me and himself another drink, “This one’s on me.” 

I take the glass again and down it in one go. The burning sensation of the Jack Daniels feeds my soul with aggression. But only for a moment. My eyes gloss over, it’s the alcohol inside that gives me this amazing kick.  

I drink and observe. The girls act as if they own the place. A few of them have sat in a booth next to the DJ, giggle at him, and then scan the place with their eyes, turning their heads around like owls, three hundred and sixty degrees. Their giant eyelashes scare me, they reach up to their eyebrows. I never understood why do women want to look older than they actually are? A few of them meet my stare. This is definitely the wrong place to be! Not entertaining them with a nod or a smile, as everyone else appears to do in here, I quickly shift my eyes on something else, the next drink that’s been patiently waiting for me behind my back. I turn towards the bar and gulp it in one go. With the fire like steam reaching my ears, again, I feel better, at ease. But even so I know I shouldn’t get comfortable.  

I lean on the bar in front of me and turn my head sideways, my eyes transfixed on the few girls dancing on the dance floor. It’s ironic, they’re all trying to look and behave all grown-up, but one girl gives their age away. She’s barely wearing any make up and her hair is clasped at the back with just a simple hair clip. I’d tell her to go back home and go straight to bed, she looks that young.  

Gulp. Another drink to dowse the fire governing my fists. 

The DJ raises his hand, and a Spanish style guitar starts playing on the speakers. The girls scream excitedly and start twirling and thumping their heels on the dance floor. A few men from the bar approach them, each finding a partner, pretending they can dance when in fact we all know what they are after.   

“More!” I slam the glass on the bar again and look at the bartender. I sense a few burst capillaries in my eyes. I can still drive.  

“Excuse me, Sir,” I hear a faint sound and feeble tap on my shoulder as I’m downing what’s hopefully my last drink of the night. I’m ready to go back to Sacramento.  


I’m too drunk to talk to anyone. Not to drive though, only to talk. I look at the bartender in front of me and see him nodding, he’s signaling me that there is, in fact, someone standing behind me.  

“It seems that I don’t have a partner,” I hear a small, innocent voice. 

I clear my throat as I turn around, ready to dismiss whoever it is but all of a sudden I can’t help but stare at the young girl, and her voluptuous heaving breasts raised too close to me. Fuck! I’m shocked, I think I see them fully through the gap between the few undone buttons on her white silk blouse. There is a necklace with a golden cross snuggly nested between them.  

She playfully unclasps her hair clip and shakes her head slightly, allowing the tresses to fall naturally and then reaches out and pushes my scruffy chin up. 

“Sir, my eyes are up here.”  

I jerk out of her touch and grab her wrist while my eyes flick from her breasts to her, frowning. Her smile turns into a strange grimace. Her doe eyes now fearfully stare at me as she’s anxiously trying to set her wrist free.  I know this girl. 

I quickly release her, and somehow my damned eyes fall on her breasts again. I can’t help it. They are there, in front of me. But this time I want to cover them up. The world shouldn’t see them. They should be reserved only for a few special people. 

“I-I’m sorry,” her voice doesn’t correspond to what I see, she shouldn’t have body like this. “I-I thought…” 

Between the dimmed light of the bar and my highly inebriated comprehension of how things work these days, I feel my pupils hopelessly try to dilate, to absorb everything about her.  

She’s extraordinarily pretty. Her eyes are brown and oh so naive, her mouth glistens, her skin reflects the light. Her auburn locks shape her face, and trail down to….dammit! I’m under her spell again, or her breasts’ spell, they keep messing with my head. Fuck!  I haven’t been this drunk before!  

Without saying anything she turns around and leaves me standing there, even more confused.  

“Are you stupid or something?” The bartender interjects quietly. “That’s the sweetest girl in town.” 

I search for money inside the pocket of my black leather jacket and having found it, I throw him a hundred dollar note. In less than five seconds I’m out.  

I hate Lodi! It always messes up my mind. 

You just read the first encounter in the book Lion’s Vineyard by Alexandra Iff



I notice a well-suited man browsing through some of the shirts hanging on a rail in the corner, going through them, one by one. Another person is standing next to him.  

I decide to observe, keep an eye on them, rather than approach. The man going through the shirts is taller, wearing an expensive suit, as is every one of our customers, naturally, and he has now moved on to the accessories area of the store. Now I see they are here together because the tall one is looking through the glass cabinet where we keep our Rolex watches, pointing at something and the other one, wearing a black t-shirt nods and boldly pulls out a tray, placing it on the table. Then they make themselves comfortable on the chairs and start trying on some of the Rolex watches. I’m now studying them carefully because, well, they might just decide to steal one. I don’t know, it seems ridiculous if they do because it would be so obvious but still, who the fuck knows how these rich people think? 

I glance at Jason; if he makes eye contact I’ll call him in. He can watch over them. After a few moments he still hasn’t so I look back at the culprits; they’ve finished with the watches and are now walking towards another corner, the tall, suited man who is walking behind the one wearing a t-shirt, has one hand in his jacket pocket; they make eye contact, smile and start shuffling through the suit jackets there. I look back at the table; the tray is still there, and, shit, I’m sure there is a watch missing.  

My heartbeat speeds up and the adrenaline starts pumping through me. Am I actually going to accuse someone of stealing, on my first day here? Shit, what do I do?   

The tall man wearing an expensive suit was the one with his hand in his pocket. It has to be him. I try to see his face but it’s like he is deliberately trying to hide it, shielding it and nodding intermittently. I must go over to him and ask him quietly, not make a scene.  

“Um, excuse me,” I say and hurry, hoping to reach them both before they exit. 

Purposely ignoring me, they do the same; speed up toward the door. Thank God I’m in Jason’s view now. 

“Excuse me!” I say louder and grab the tall man’s arm.  

Instantly, he looks back, shocked that I’m holding him and with the other hand he removes his earphones, the ones I never noticed him wearing. His eyebrows are knitted, I bet he is just about to shout ‘how dare you’ at me. But he is not. He just watches me closely with his dark, limitless eyes, too intense for my liking that now warily traipse over my face; back and forth over my eyes and lips, fuck, why is he looking at me like that? Perplexed, I pull back slightly. His eyes travel down my body… is he checking me out? Fuck! And I’m about to accuse him of stealing.  

 “What exactly do you think you are doing?” the other man, who has also removed his earphones, is now reaching out to disconnect my hand from his friend.   

“Um, Sir,” Fuck! “I believe you may have something that belongs to us.”  

“What the hell? Do you know who…”  

The tall, unreasonably handsome man raises his hand at his friend, forcing him to stop interfering and cocks his head at me.   

“I do? How so?”  

“Well,” his stare is unnerving, so I let him go; I’m relieved Jason has seen me talking to him and he’s now heading my way. “The watch you were looking at earlier. Perhaps you want to give it back?”  

“Is this a joke?” his friend cannot contain himself.  

His eyes haven’t steered away from me at all; fixated on my lips, his mouth slowly curves on one side. Then a big wide grin appears on his face. Dimples? Now I know he’s hiding something.  

“I think you may be mistaken, Miss…”  

“I don’t think I’m mistaken.” I swiftly reach inside his jacket pocket and just as quick, he grabs my hand through the jacket, holding it firmly in his grip.  

“I assure you, Miss, there is nothing in there that’s yours.” his smirk remains arrogant. 

“Let go of my hand!”  

Time stands still as those dark, intense eyes penetrate through my many walls and for an instant, I see them come alive, turning into a shade so devious that I’ve only seen in horror movies.  

 “Very well then,” strangely, he decides to surrender; only too easily, “Since you asked so nicely.” he releases his hold and my hand is free to do whatever I want. In haste, I jerk everything he has out from his pocket, half of which falls on the floor.  

And, then… I see them.  

Condoms. Ten, maybe even twenty packs of condoms. I’m holding four-five packs in my hand.  

Embarrassed? That doesn’t even cut it. I die. Really. I wish I had.  

“Trinity, God, not him!” Jason hurries to his aid. “Mr. DuPont! I’m so sorry.”  

“It’s okay, Jason.” he’s still glaring at me. 

I kneel down, mortified, and start collecting the condoms. Fuck, that’s why I stick to numbers; I’m not cut out to work with people.  

“Mr. DuPont, this is Trinity Parker. She is new at Voleur.” Jason tries to save the day.  

“Is she now?”   

He remains still until I stand up and hand him the packets with a scarlet face.  

“Trinity Parker.” amused, he repeats my name. Then he turns to his friend. “This is Trinity Parker, Adam.”  

His friend, Adam, sizes me up from top to bottom. He has glistening facial hair and slightly weathered skin, as if he’s spent time outdoors in the wind. He isn’t ‘pretty boy’ smooth like his friend but he is handsome nevertheless. His left eyebrow crooks above his eye and an infinitesimal smirk appears on his face.  

This is getting out of control! 

“Mr. DuPont.” I will not apologize. He shouldn’t have acted like a thief.  Of course, if I knew he was well known around here, I wouldn’t have suspected him at all. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“I should have introduced you when you came in. I apologize, Mr. DuPont. Mr. Ahmed.” Jason tries to get their attention off of me, but it’s all in vain. 

“No need to apologize, Jason.” he’s still staring at me with his lips crooked on one side. “Miss Parker here didn’t.”  

I clench my jaw and regard him. I’m holding fort; my pride, mixed with the insurgence coming from my stubborn nature, makes me lift my chin. “I’m sorry, I need to get back to work.” I reply and then leave.   

You just read the first encounter in the book More Than Just A Pair Of Pumps by Alexandra Iff



Engrossed in my own thoughts I realize he’s now in front of me and Jennifer, standing a bit too close, with a slight smirk on his face and extended hand, waiting. He’s gazing at me from under his luxuriant chestnut brown hair with a few streaks of blond in it, long enough to be tucked behind the ears. His shaggy look reminds me of a rock star, definitely not in line with his classy suit. There is someone wild beneath the surface and he’s not trying to conceal it at all. Wow. His eyes, blue as the sky, are sinking into mine, anchoring themselves more deeply than I think is possible. He really is beautiful. I try to say something, I really do. But I can’t; I just stare. Everyone around me slowly fades into a blur and it’s just us, alone, eyes locked together. Blue versus green, and where they meet, a tridimensional portal opens up, exhorting me to dream. His gravitational field is too strong; I’m pulled into him and I feel him touching my elbow, creating a spark—static from the floor surely—but thank God, that’s my wake-up call. I huskily inhale and land back in the office, breaking our eye contact and instantly focus on Jennifer who, by now, is wondering what’s going on.   

“This is Jennifer Miles, our Assistant Project Manager,” I say quietly and point to her.  

She grabs his hand and smiles broadly; thank God she has better social skills than me.  

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Reeves.” 

He nods at her with the same smirk he had for me and, locking our eyes again, I hear his deep voice. 

“And you are…?” 

“Amelia Jones.” I barely have the strength to say my name.  

“Nice to meet you, Miss. Jones.” He takes my hot, clammy hand in his and clasps it firmly, giving me some relief upon touching his cool skin. His unyielding, icy blue stare helps him bypass all my guards and it’s now penetrating deep into my pupils, clouding my eyesight again. Spellbound, I feel an upsurge of passion in my body, it’s simply not possible for one woman to feel all this. What is wrong with me? Embarrassed by my conduct, I lift my chin and return his courteous smile. I know if I try to say something my voice will let me down, so instead, I choose to keep quiet and look away before I’m taken again into his realm. He cannot possibly hold my hand all day; there are other people waiting to meet him. Steven Busfield, the slimy Head of Accounts, is introducing him to everybody and he cannot understand the hold up.   

“Mr. Reeves, this way.” Steven gently pushes him towards the procession of people waiting to meet him. 

He clenches my hand firmly once again, lets go, and then carries on meeting and greeting my colleagues.  

You just read the first encounter in the book The Collar Of Freedom by Alexandra Iff



bdsm_bestseller_alexandra_iff_newyork _califormia

James and Eva

James Knight POV. 
I stand there rooted to the place for a moment, debating my options, and when I’m about to turn back and get the hell out of there, the door bursts open and she’s rushing out. Her brows are drawn together on her forehead, forming a very cute V between her eyes and she’s scowling at her phone, not looking where she’s going. She raises her head at the last second, her crystal blue eyes piercing my soul as her petite body collides with mine. 
Her arms flail outwards trying to stop her body from falling and a tiny shriek hitches in her throat. My arms instantly go around her slender waist and I pull her flush to my chest, holding her tight. I can feel the shock of electricity coursing through my body from having her pressed against me. What the…? I can almost see the sparks flying around us, I can hear the buzz, it’s like the air around us is vibrating, or… is that the sound of my heartbeat ringing in my ears? 
Eva Roberts POV. 
I swing the door open and… someone is standing outside the women’s restroom. I look up from my cell but it’s too late. Unable to stop myself I bump into him, bouncing off and falling backward until I’m caught in his embrace. 
I can barely say anything. I am …speechless. The darkest brown eyes are glaring back at me, under the darkest locks I’ve ever seen and I’m standing there. Pulled close to his chest, feeling his heart beat and… I see him slowly entering my soul. I… I am lost. Overwhelmed …without gravity…I don’t know where to go. Which way is the right way? The feeling is surreal. I lose my hearing and I feel my body pulsating in his direction, like radio waves.  
His gaze is locked with mine, he’s holding me tight and…Oh my! I am suddenly aware of the bulge in his pants. Is that…? No, it can’t be. If it is, he’s big! My breathing becomes shallow and I am not sure why. Fuck, I’m blushing. 
I must move …I must. I push myself away from his embrace, half apologizing for not sure what…um…oh yes, bumping into him… and I leave. Oh my god. This was unnerving. Nobody has ever made me this confused. And speechless. He never said a word. I glance back at him and he’s just standing there, looking at me. I wish he’d said something. 
You just read the first encounter in the book Flash Burn by Alexandra Iff

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