Kay Jaybee's Blog
December 11, 2024
KJB BARGAINS: SMASHWORDS END OF YEAR SALE!
(Please note that, although prices show in dollars, the total will be converted into sterling at the checkout where relevant)
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryWealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryErotica on a canvas of bondage and discipline! Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » Erotica AnthologiesYes Ma’am contains six straight and bi-sexual encounters of the S&M nature.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » Erotica Anthologies, Fiction » Erotica » BDSMGathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of coffee shops, restaurants and bus trips, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels across Great Britain. Her research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.
Wednesday on Thursday by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryShrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the cafe stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous. The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. It’s totally harmless… until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » Erotica Anthologies, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryWhat’s your favourite part of the Christmas celebration? Decorating the tree with tinsel, the heavenly aroma of cinnamon and fruit from Christmas cakes and puddings, the office Christmas party, a visit to Santa’s grotto, the expected presents? Christmas Kink twists all of these festive traditions into six individual episodes of hot erotica that will leave you fanning yourself…
A Kink a Day Book Four by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » Erotica AnthologiesFrom a restraint fantasy in a dusty South African quarry, to the soap-frothed kinky reminiscences of a soldier; the sexy end-of-the-line activities of a bus driver, to the hidden world where willing men do “Just as She Says”, this book provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week- with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
A Kink a Day Book Three by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » Erotica Anthologies, Fiction » Erotica » BDSMFrom the extreme kink of a wedding at a city S&M club, a deliciously erotic rendition on a double bass, an imaginative take on a set of brushes, and beyond, A Kink a Day Book Three provides eight bite-sized moments of lust-fuelled distraction. One for every day of the week—plus an additional fantasy thrown in to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
A Kink a Day Book Two by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » Erotica Anthologies, Fiction » Erotica » BDSMFrom the kinky activities of an obligingly dirty girl, to an unorthodox game of snooker; a battle with both extreme heat and cold, and some delicious cafe-time action, A Kink a Day Book Two provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week—with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
A Kink a Day Book One by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » Erotica Anthologies, Fiction » Erotica » BDSMFrom the spank of a belt, to the unorthodox use of a dictionary; the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, to the afterhours indulgences of the staff recreating life in a strictly-run Victorian manor, A Kink a Day Book One provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week – with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.
The Perfect Submissive Box Set by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryThe Perfect Submissive box set contains each of the novels from Kay Jaybee’s popular trilogy: The Fifth Floor, The Retreat and Knowing Her Place.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » ContemporaryResident submissive of the Fables Hotel’s adult entertainment floor, Miss Jess Sanders, has been instructed to test out the new facility that her manageress, Mrs Peters, has designed. With the feeling that she’s acting in a play that everyone knows the script to but her, the Fables’ perfect submissive is challenged to the limit in Mrs Peters’ new room, and beyond…
Knowing Her Place by Kay Jaybee
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » Menage/Multiple PartnersFull of unanswered questions after her erotic fairytale experience at The Retreat in Scotland, Jess Sanders is desperate to return to her submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire. But it seems The Retreat’s owner, David Proctor, has other ideas. All Jess can hope for is that the journey she’s sent on will eventually take her back to where she belongs.
Categories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » Menage/Multiple PartnersJust as Jess Sanders is adjusting to her new life as the submissive in residence on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel, her employer, Mrs Peters, makes a startling announcement. She has agreed to loan Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients. In order to get back to the fifth floor, Jess is going to have to be more than just a perfect submissive…
The Fifth Floor by Kay JaybeeCategories: Fiction » Erotica » BDSM, Fiction » Erotica » Menage/Multiple PartnersONLY 99c/pHidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor. Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests. When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises her potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education…
I hope you’ve found something there to warm up your download device!!
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,
Kay xx
December 8, 2024
Christmas Courier: Wrapped
…The knock at her door made her jump, and Jenny physically had to restrain herself from running to see who the caller was. So what if it’s one o’clock? It’s Christmas Eve, he isn’t working, and he won’t come. It’ll be my next door neighbour with some mince pies or something. Her pulse thudded violently in her chest as Jenny moved to the door, convinced that the hope she couldn’t prevent from rising in her chest was about to leave her disappointed.
The silhouette through the glass panel in her front door was unmistakeable.
“I was just passing.” The shine in John’s deep brown eyes told her this was a blatant lie.
A wide smile crossed her face as Jenny let him in, “I thought you might be away for Christmas or something.”
“I thought you might be too.”
A feeling of awkwardness came over Jenny. Despite everything they had done together, there was nevertheless so much they didn’t know about each other. She felt almost shy as she spoke, “I was going to text, but I didn’t want to get in the way of your life or anything.”
“Same here. I thought you might be with family.” A large, rough hand raked through the back of her hair, easing out the knots, sending little currents of craving down Jenny’s neck and into her chest. Then, slipping a hand into hers, John steered Jenny toward the living room, swiftly banishing any uncertainty.
Gesturing to the middle of the floor, he said, “Last minute wrapping?”
“A few bits for the neighbour’s kids.” She could feel her pulse accelerating as he looked at her, “My family all live abroad, it’s just me in the UK.”
“That’s a big roll of paper for those little gifts.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the way he spoke or the look on his face that gave him away, but Jenny knew what was going to happen before he moved. In seconds, John had stripped her naked, and Jenny was being enveloped in large swathes of jolly, silver-star covered gift-wrap.
“Don’t move, and don’t speak, okay?”
Nodding, she tried not to laugh as John wrestled with the dispenser, before he cut off length after length of sticky tape, which he used to secure the paper tighter and tighter around her. Jenny’s arms became pinned to her sides, and her legs were clamped together as if she was some sort of bizarrely festive Egyptian mummy.
Stepping back to admire his work, John’s face creased with hunger, and Jenny’s urge to giggle dissolved. She could feel her breasts chafing against the smooth, figure hugging covering, and suddenly she realized how desperately she wanted them to be free so that John could hold them, suck them, hit them…do whatever he wanted with them.
John began hunting around the room for something. Jenny however, could only wonder how long it would be before she could suck his shaft, or feel him slide between her legs. She wanted to speak, to ask him to kiss her, but she’d promised not to talk, and didn’t want to distract him from whatever he was going to do next.
He stood so close to Jenny that his dark eyes tunnelled into hers. He peeled his clothes off at a speed that made the lightning disposal of Jenny’s garments seem positively drawn out.
Attempting to distract herself from the need to speak, Jenny traced her eyes over the line of his chest, the hairs so soft and inviting, his tattoos just begging for fresh examination, and his cock, hard and firm, pointed at Jenny accusingly, as if making its owner as horny as hell was a crime.
Shuffling her feet unsteadily on the carpet, she watched as he began to unwind the satin purple ribbon she’d spent ages draping around her Christmas tree. Her throat turned the texture of sandpaper as she comprehended the meaning behind the devious expression in John’s eyes. He brought the two-meter garland toward her.
Naked and emanating power, John began to wind the ribbon around her neck in a large bow. Picking up a pair of scissors from the floor, he cut off the remaining strip of fabric, “I started thinking about doing this last night. I even have some rolls of gift-wrap in the van. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw this lot waiting for me.”
Wide eyed, Jenny saw her film courier twist part of the ribbon around his arm, before approaching her. Again, she guessed what he was about to do, and she tensed as the first bind of the silky material went over her eyes and around the back of her neck, trapping her hair.
Mewling into the purple darkness, and deprived of the sight of his gorgeous body, Jenny felt John’s fingers fiddling with the knot behind her head. Then his hands came to her elbows. “You look incredible. Are you okay?”
She nodded awkwardly; glad he was holding her, afraid she would topple over at any moment.
“Good girl. You remembered not to talk,” John’s breath tickled her neck as he said, “You are, without doubt, the most tempting Christmas present I’ve ever seen.”
As he spoke, her breasts, already swollen with their need to be touched, became taut and hot, and pussy juice began to leak along her inner thighs.
The pressure of his palm as he pushed it against her wrapped-up mound made Jenny stagger so much that John had to steady her with this free arm. Moaning as his fingers encased and probed her enclosed clit, Jenny’s liquid flowed freer, soaking the paper, turning the crackling sound it had initially made into a wet, squelchy rustle.
“What a hot, little bad girl you are.”
Jenny felt the layers of wrapping paper between her legs start to mulch as John kneaded and pinched her flesh. Then, with a grunt of frustration, he lifted her off her feet and laid her on the floor. An urgent hand came to her right breast, kneading her tit, creasing and crumpling the gift-wrap.
Abruptly John stopped, his weight lifted from her, and a sense of bereavement consumed her body. She had no idea how she managed not to plead for more.
The purple ribbon over her eyes became darker, and Jenny realized he must have turned the lights off. Then the chirpy Christmas tunes that had been playing in the background disappeared as the radio was clicked off. Silence filled the room. Uncertainty crept through Jenny’s mind, and a drizzle of perspiration trickled between the packaging and the back of her neck. Her ears strained to pick up a sound, but she couldn’t hear anything, not even her man’s breathing.
Time seemed to pass slowly as Jenny lay like a fallen statue, painfully aware of the friction of the saturated paper as it clung to her pussy. Every part of her body ached for a continuation of the attention it had been receiving. The ribbon against her eyes felt tighter than ever, but Jenny began to wish it was between her teeth, gagging as well as blinding her, for there was no way she could stay quiet for much longer. Clamping her jaw, Jenny was determined not to break the rules, but the more she thought, the more her resolve began to crack.
“John?”…
****
Well, I’d better let you go now- you are probably in a hurry to go and buy a few rolls of extra long gift wrap…
If you’d like to read about Jenny and John’s courier kink, or see what happened next on Christmas Eve, then you can buy Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man from-
Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184
Amazon.com- http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184
****
Many Christmas!
Kay xx
December 5, 2024
When Christmas is Cancelled by Lucy Felthouse
OUT NOW—When Christmas is Cancelled by Lucy Felthouse
When Christmas is Cancelled is the latest release from romance author, Lucy Felthouse. It is available in eBook and paperback from Amazon, and will be in Kindle Unlimited for 90 days only. After then it will come out of Kindle Unlimited and go onto other retailers, so if you wish to read it as part of your KU subscription, add it to your shelf ASAP.
Blurb:
When Rosie does a good deed on Christmas Day, she’s not expecting to come face to face with her very own ghost of Christmas past.
Rosie Kilbride’s festive plans are derailed when her mother calls on Christmas Eve to postpone their family get together due to illness. Left with a surplus of food and no one to eat it with, Rosie contacts Ingrid, a local café owner, to find out if she still needs volunteers for the charity Christmas meal she’s organising. Ingrid jumps at the chance, and on Christmas morning Rosie heads out, anticipating a busy but pleasant day doing something nice for others, followed by a meal of leftovers with her fellow volunteers.
Unfortunately, on being introduced to the café’s kitchen staff, she discovers the head chef is none other than Luke Adams, the man who broke her heart into a million tiny pieces ten years ago. And she’s got to work with him. Despite her inner turmoil, there’s no way she’ll let Ingrid and the diners down, so she’s determined to grin and bear it. It’s just a few hours, after all.
When the day is almost done, tiredness and hunger kick in, and emotions start to run high. Can Rosie get away unscathed, or will she be forced to deal with Luke and all the feelings his presence has dredged up?
When Christmas is Cancelled is a standalone M/F steamy contemporary romance with second chance, age gap and BDSM themes.
Links:
Amazon/KU: https://books2read.com/wcic
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/218589869-when-christmas-is-cancelled
Add to BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/when-christmas-is-cancelled-a-m-f-steamy-contemporary-second-chance-romance-by-lucy-felthouse
*****
Excerpt:
As was usual for their part of middle England, there was no white Christmas. Just a sky full of gloomy grey clouds, which were letting loose a weak, persistent drizzle. Preferable to p***ing it down, I suppose. She made her way into town, her mood lifting at the sight of the festive lights strung on the homes and businesses, the cheery decorations and Santa Stop Here signs stuck into people’s front lawns and flowerbeds. Excitement would no doubt be reigning in those homes, as young children pounced on their piles of presents and began an unwrapping frenzy, while exhausted, bemused parents clutched mugs of strong coffee and watched on from the sidelines.
Of course, not everyone was so fortunate, which was why Ingrid’s scheme was such a good one. A desperately needed one, in some cases. People ended up by themselves on Christmas Day for a multitude of reasons—she was a testament to that fact. Some might even prefer it. But for those who didn’t, those who would cherish—possibly even be desperate for—the company as much as the food, today’s event might well be the highlight of their festive season. The only bright spot in an otherwise dull, lonely few days.
She smiled. Her own Christmas plans might have gone t*ts up, but being even a tiny cog in a machine that would make a collection of deserving people happy was something to feel good about. She’d also been able to answer her mother’s anxious question about where she was going truthfully: “To Ingrid’s. She’s already got a big group in, so one more wasn’t a problem. Should be a damn good spread.”
She’d scurried off then, hoping if her mother’s virus-addled brain allowed her to actually remember what Ingrid had been doing on Christmas Day for the last few years—and she definitely knew, as she’d donated money each time—it’d be too late to pass comment.
Granted, she’d be helping to serve forty people their meals before getting so much as a crumb of a roast potato herself, but that was a small price to pay.
Conscious she was already a little behind schedule, thanks to her mother’s wittering, she put her right foot down a smidgen harder. Soon, she pulled up outside the front door of the café. The town, unsurprisingly, was completely deserted, so she didn’t worry about anyone complaining about her parking. It was only temporary, while she unloaded all her goodies. She gave a couple of light bips on her car horn before killing the engine, taking off her seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle. She closed the door, then zipped her coat and pulled up the hood against the cold and wet. By the time she was around at the boot, opening it to reveal tinfoil-covered trays and plastic containers galore, Ingrid appeared beside her, looking every inch the festive host, in her sparkling boots, glittery leggings, snowman-festooned knitted jumper, reindeer earrings, and headband with a sprig of mistletoe hanging off it.
“Morning,” Ingrid said with a warm smile, before wrapping her in a hug. “Merry Christmas. I’m really sorry about your mum and dad not being well, but I’m definitely not sorry you’re here. We were already stretched, and now one of my waitresses has phoned, saying she’s poorly and can’t come. So your extra pair of hands is very much needed—and appreciated.”
She returned her friend’s embrace, then let go and stepped back. “Merry Christmas, Ingrid. I’m glad to be here. Sorry I’m a bit late. I’ve just dropped some food parcels off at Mum and Dad’s, along with their presents, so they’re all set for a couple of days. Poor things are still feeling rough as anything. Food wise, whatever was left that I couldn’t safely freeze, or was way too much for me to eat alone over the next few days, I brought. So there’s a lovely joint of beef, potatoes, vegetables, a chocolate roulade, and a bunch of mince pies and jam tarts. The last three are homemade—not shop bought.”
Ingrid narrowed her eyes. “You made chocolate roulade, mince pies and jam tarts? You surely didn’t need all that just for the three of you? I know folks like to stuff their faces at Christmas, but come on…”
“All right, all right,” Rosie said with a laugh, holding her hands up. “You got me. I’d already started on the roulade when I got the call from my parents to say they were ill, and was going to make a batch of mince pies, since they’re my dad’s favourite. But in the disappointment of having my plans derailed, I drowned my sorrows in baking. Happy now?”
Ingrid responded by reaching into the car boot and scooping up two big containers. She licked her lips exaggeratedly and wiggled her eyebrows. “Bl**dy ecstatic. I love mince pies.” With that, she turned neatly on her heel and hurried inside.
Chuckling to herself, Rosie followed suit. The warm, cosy café was already a hive of activity with the tables being set, Christmas crackers added to each place setting, and people whizzing here, there and everywhere. The place had been decorated for the festive season to within an inch of its life since early December, but Rosie spotted at least a handful more decorations she didn’t recognise from when she’d popped in a couple of weeks earlier to drop off hers and her customers’ donations for the very meal she was now helping with—as well as treating herself to coffee and a slice of cake. She was normally a more regular patron, even if it was just a takeaway, but the run up to Christmas had been hectic in the shop, so she hadn’t had the chance to pop in.
“Leave them there, hon,” Ingrid said, pointing to the counter, where she’d already deposited the two boxes she’d carried in. “We’ll get everything in pronto, so you can park your car, then I’ll introduce you to everyone and get you all set up in your role for the day.”
“No worries,” she replied, setting her load down and following Ingrid back out the door to her car.
It wasn’t long before she slammed her boot closed and gave Ingrid a wave as she slid into the driver’s seat and drove to the car park at the end of the road. Her vehicle safely parked and securely locked, she hurried back to the café—picking up her pace and hunching deeper into her coat as the drizzle turned heavier.
She burst through the front door to the sound of Christmas music blaring out. Some of the other helpers were singing and dancing as they worked. It looked as though the party had already started—and the guests weren’t even expected to show up for another couple of hours.
“Ah, there you are,” Ingrid said, appearing from nowhere. “Let’s get your coat and bag hung up out the back. I thought given you enjoy baking, you’d be particularly useful in the kitchen, if that’s all right with you? Unless you’d prefer to be at front of house?”
“No, if you need me in the kitchen, I’m totally fine with that. Use me however you see fit.”
Her belongings stowed, and her own funky headband—a tiny, jaunty elf hat with an even tinier jingle bell affixed to its pointy end—settled in place, she straightened her oversized jumper, a knitted affair with gingerbread men and candy canes all over it, as she followed Ingrid. After being introduced to the wait staff she didn’t know—the others worked in the café normally, so they were already acquainted—she and Ingrid made their way towards the kitchen.
Ingrid pushed open the ‘in’ door to reveal a bunch of people already working hard, despite the fact there weren’t yet any diners. The clatter of trays, the rhythmic tapping of vegetables being chopped, and the whir of food processors filled the air—as did intense heat and the delicious scent of roasting meat.
“I’ve left the organisation in here entirely to my head chef for the day, since he knows what he’s doing. He’s the best there is. He works in some fancy place in the city, but somehow managed to wangle today off to help us out. Let’s go and introduce you, and he can decide where he needs you the most, okay?”
Rosie nodded, then tailed Ingrid as she made a bee-line for a man in a white chef’s jacket, and black and white checkered trousers. Rather than the tall, white hat one would usually expect a head chef to be wearing, he had on a Santa hat. He was tall, dark-haired, and had his broad back to them as he worked away at something on one of the stainless-steel surfaces.
“Hey, Chef,” Ingrid said as they drew close, “got your last pair of hands here. She’s good in the kitchen and ready to work.”
The man stopped what he was doing, wiped his hands on a tea towel and turned to them with a smile, which quickly faded as recognition kicked in.
“Rosie,” Ingrid said, indicating her head chef, “this is—”
“Luke Adams,” she interrupted, staring in disbelief at the man who’d broken her heart into a million pieces a decade ago. The very same heart which was now skipping like a rabbit on speed and sending heat rushing into her cheeks. F**k. Merry f**king Christmas to me.
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, Curve Appeal, Not That Kind of Witch and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 175 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree
Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services .
October 13, 2024
Opening Lines: Digging Deep
Put your feet up, grab a cuppa, and enjoy the first 500 words from my recently updated #eroticromance, Digging Deep.
Blurb
Dr Beth Andrews’ first foreign excavation, which she co-runs with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start.
Thanks to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, an overzealous student, and a broken mosaic, Anglo-American relations are pushed to the limit, while Beth’s erotic and romantic expectations are similarly tested.
Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!
FIRST FIVE HUNDRED WORDS…
Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.
She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.
Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand. A job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.
It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.
The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the black and white photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.
Flicking her gaze covertly towards Harrison, Beth tried to subdue the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what Linda, the site’s previous supervisor, had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures.
Scalding by day and freezing by night.
Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being fried during the day and frozen at night, just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.
Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.
What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night, when the temperatures plummeted, and she was too cold to nod off.
As her first…
***
If you want to find out what happens next, and feel not just the heat of the desert sun rise, you can buy Digging Deep from Amazon (all territories except the US and Canada), including Amazon.co.uk.
Happy reading!!
Kay xx
September 19, 2024
Curious to the Core!
I’m often asked what the major driving force of inspiration is behind my writing. There are many things that influence me; overheard conversations, musical lyrics, friend’s fantasies; but at the very back of all that is a basic curiosity- a curiosity that always wants to know what is going on beyond my point of vision!
Not that I’m an eye to the keyhole sort of person. Nor would there be any point in me jamming my ear to the crack in the door (I’m deaf as a post); it’s more that I can’t stop my imagination from filling in the blanks. I’m constantly musing over what ‘might be’ going on. What could be happening, is often so much more interesting than what is happening!
For example, what could the top floor of a nearby hotel really contain? Is it full of nice normal bedrooms, in which tired out members of the business community can crash after a meeting? Or is it, as in my series, The Perfect Submissive, a hotbed of private services and kinky sex?
When you see a sign on a lift saying ‘staff only’ where does that lift actually take you? When they announce over the loud speakers in a shop or club, ‘Would a member of staff come to the storeroom,’ what happens when they get there? Are they whisked off in a limo to somewhere exotic? Are they sold to aliens for experimentation? I always hope they aren’t going to do something as dull as unpack boxes. I want them to have as much fun as the bar girls, and the young man they lure into their storeroom, in my story Break Time (The Collector)
When you meet a stranger on the train; a stranger who catches your eye and sends your pulse racing- what would happen if you asked them out? Would you have coffee, maybe visit the cinema- or would you find yourself in the backroom of an exclusive club, doing sexually interesting things you hadn’t ever dreamt about, like the lead character in my story Black? (Yes Ma’am)
So basically I’m curious- or should that be nosily inquisitive- but only for what might happen- not for what really is happening- it’s far more fun that way!!
Happy Reading
Kay xx
August 30, 2024
Is John Your Type?
I was scrolling through Facebook a couple of days ago, and the subject of Book Boyfriends was being discussed on a number of streams. The happy chatter over who was the most ‘appealing’ fictional chap out there got me thinking- I wonder how many people would like John from Not Her Type as their book boyfriend?
I know that many of my readers have developed a soft spot for this mysterious bad boy- but does he ‘do it’ for you?
Based on the theory that opposites attract, Not Her Type begins at the dawn of a seemingly impossible and unlikely alliance between Jenny (a ridiculously over-educated accountant, who hates reality TV, and always reads the book before seeing the film) and John (her courier, who has no education at all, and only reads if someone points a gun to his head).
Blurb
When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the center of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.
One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?
When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type…
Here’s an extract from the kinky MF world of Not Her Type, and my sexy delivery man…Is John your type?
Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.
Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.
Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.
Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.
Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body……. “How did I not see that coming? How bloody naïve have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.”
Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. “Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.”
She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.
As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.
Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?
“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. “Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!”
A self-confessed nightmare when it comes to relationships, John warns Jenny that he can’t offer her more than occasional sex- yet, there is something about his favourite customer that keeps John coming back again and again – not least because this girl is kinky and then some!! It seems there is nothing Jenny isn’t prepared to do for John- every fantasy he has ever had is suddenly waiting for him to explore…
Do they live happily ever after? Do Jenny and John walk off into the sunset dancing and singing as if they were in some sickly movie? As if I’m going to tell you that!!
***
Buy links
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184
http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184
Happy reading everyone!!
Kay xxx
August 16, 2024
Opening Lines: Digging Deep
Put your feet up, grab a cuppa, and enjoy the first 500 words from my recently updated #eroticromane, Digging Deep.
Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in searing hot Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write.
Blurb
Dr Beth Andrews’ first foreign excavation, which she co-runs with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start.
Thanks to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, an overzealous student, and a broken mosaic, Anglo-American relations are pushed to the limit, while Beth’s erotic and romantic expectations are similarly tested.
Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!
FIRST FIVE HUNDRED WORDS…
Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.
She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.
Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand. A job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.
It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.
The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the black and white photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.
Flicking her gaze covertly towards Harrison, Beth tried to subdue the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what Linda, the site’s previous supervisor, had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures.
Scalding by day and freezing by night.
Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being fried during the day and frozen at night, just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.
Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.
What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night, when the temperatures plummeted, and she was too cold to nod off.
As her first…
***
If you want to find out what happens next, and feel not just the heat of the desert sun rise, you can buy Digging Deep from Amazon (all territories except the US and Canada), including Amazon.co.uk.
Happy reading!!
Kay xx
June 30, 2024
Grab my erotica: The Smashwords Summer Sale
All of my ebooks are involved- and they are all HALF PRICE, except for
Yes Ma’am, which is FREE until the end of July!!
You can find all of my #halfprice books on sale here, including…
All the A Kink a Day anthologies
The whole of The Perfect Submissive series
And much more, including Wednesday on Thursday and The Collector.
The sale ends on 31st July, so you have plenty of time to stock up your #ebook reader.
Happy shopping!
Kay xx
May 12, 2024
Tasty Taster: The Fifth Floor
Let’s go to the The Fifth Floor (The Perfect Submissive #trilogy- Book One) and meet Miss Jess Sanders as she starts her adventure into the (so far unknown) world of the BDSM submissive…
Blurb
Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor. Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests. When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.
Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?
Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fables’ fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…
Here’s a tasty taster…
…Jess was sat at her desk, a half eaten sandwich in one hand; the fingers of her other hand dancing over the computer keyboard. Laura watched her through the office window for a few moments before confidently stepping into the room, interrupting the clerk without hesitation. ‘Mr Davies informs me he has not yet had time to complete your preliminary tour of the hotel.’
Understanding precisely where the manageress intended to take her, Jess spoke carefully, ‘I’ve seen most of it, but not all.’
Without confirming the clerk’s suspicions, Laura said, ‘I have a few moments, so if you’d like to walk this way I’ll complete that area of your training.’ She pointed towards the office door, ‘You are bound to be asked for directions around the place by our guests and it doesn’t look very professional if a member of staff gets lost herself, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I would, Mrs Peters.’
Although she’d now worked at the Fables for just over a week, Jess still hadn’t looked her boss in the eye once, a fact that sent a buzz of conviction through Mrs Peters; her initial instincts about the girl had been correct.
‘Are you happy here so far, Miss Sanders?’
‘Yes, Mrs Peters. Thank you.’ Jess muttered her response, almost managing to glance directly at her superior, but falling short at her shoulders. Laura’s heartbeat increased in response to the girl’s natural deference. Jess Sanders was just so perfect for what she had in mind.
As they walked towards the staff lift Laura attempted to improve the flow of conversation, ‘And I don’t think you have yet been introduced to all the other members of staff?’
‘Not yet, no.’ Again Jess spoke cautiously, and Laura knew from the expression on her face that she was both fearful and curious about meeting anyone who kept their business arrangements entirely to the Fables upper storey.
‘We are one member of staff down at the moment; one of my assistants has left us for pastures new. I’m searching for a replacement. Master Lee Philips, who works in the bar downstairs, helps me out as and when required, but it’s not an ideal arrangement. He has many other duties, and besides, the fifth floor guests frequently prefer the female touch.’
Following the clerk into the lift it was obvious that no small talk was going to come from her, so Laura calmly kept up her commentary. ‘My associate, Miss Sarah, should be on the premises by 10.00 each morning, unless she has had a complete night session, in which case she is not expected until 2.00 p.m. As I’ve said, Master Philips comes and goes, depending on our requirements and his bar and reception work. Miss Sarah has her first session of the day in a few moments, if we are lucky we should just catch the show.’
Visibly shrinking back, Jess noticed how Mrs Peters walked a little taller now they’d reached her domain. Her face was more set, her back straighter, and somehow she appeared even more intimidating than before. Pushing her hands into the deep pockets of her clinging knee-length black skirt, Jess hid the growing sheen of perspiration on her palms, while trying to ignore the fearful beat of her pulse.
Crossing the threshold of the room, into which she was being firmly steered by the elbow, felt like entering another world to Jess, or rather, another time. Manoeuvred towards a plush red velvet chaise longue, her eyes darting here and there, the clerk was pointedly sat down.
Trying to ignore the light but persistent pressure of Mrs Peters cool hand against her wrist, Jess took in the reproduction William Morris wallpaper, the heavy dark-wood chest of drawers, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the faded brown leather wing-backed armchair. Centre stage, only a few metres from where they sat, was a huge writing desk. Its top was inlaid with a square of leather, a portion of which was covered with blotting paper, an accompanying ink well, pots of ink, and nibbed pens.
Jess was reminded of a museum she’d once visited as a child, where rooms from a variety of different houses had been re-created from a number of historical periods. This room had Victorian study written all over it.
The silence was beginning to get to her as she waited, perched rather than sat, on the unyielding seat. A faint voice of hope at the back of her head kept telling her that all this had to be some sort of practical joke, but one glance at Mrs Peters made Jess reconsider. Her eyes kept drifting towards the study door. Whatever she had been brought here to witness surely couldn’t begin until someone came in. Twenty seconds later, each one ticked off by the hammer of Jess’s heart beating, the door swung back with a confident push.
‘Ah, Miss Sarah,’ Laura rose from her seat, a stern glare at Jess telling her not to move. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Fables has a new member of staff, and I thought it would be a good idea to let her observe one of our sessions.’
Miss Sarah, her face powdered to an ultra-pale complexion, her curling hair pinned up in the style of a Victorian lady, her exquisite outfit historically accurate down to the small white buttons that fastened her stylish black boots, curtsied at once to her superior, ‘Of course, Mrs Peters.’
The stunningly slim woman glanced briefly at Jess, her grey gaze only lingering long enough to acknowledge the stranger, without taking in what she looked like or who she might be. Miss Sarah’s indifference, dismissing the office clerk as an unimportant factor in the room, made Jess feel smaller and more anxious than ever.
The agonising lull continued and Jess’s imagination began to run riot as Miss Sarah sat at the desk in preparation for her client’s arrival. Images of pock-skinned overweight men, panting loudly as they fucked the employees of the fifth floor against the furniture made Jess’s stomach churn, but there was no way out. With a quiet determination that Mrs Peters would have been surprised to know Jess possessed, she thought, if the other members of staff here have survived this part of the tour, then so can I.
As Mrs Peters returned to both the chaise lounge and her application of gentle restraint against the clerk’s arm, Jess’s body stiffened. Someone was knocking on the door. Not daring to face her employer, Jess focused on the figure that, after being granted permission to enter, walked meekly into the study.
If he hadn’t had his neck bent, his face to the floor with respect for Miss Sarah, who greeted him with a sharp ‘Good Morning’, Jess judged he would have been quite tall. And he was young; not the sweaty, aged bank manager Jess had conjured up in her head, but a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shaven face, short spiked ginger hair, and well built limbs. He was dressed as a servant, perhaps a stable hand. Jess was automatically reminded of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gulping against her dehydrated throat, unwilling to see the sex that she was sure was about to follow, the clerk dropped her eyes, only to have her chin roughly jerked upwards by Mrs Peters, ‘No, child. You will observe. You will learn.’
A patina of panic gripped Jess. Every hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. Until that moment it had been unreal. She hadn’t let go of the hope that at any minute someone was going to turn around and say, ‘OK, Jess, it’s just a joke. We play it on all the new girls. Let’s grab a coffee.’ No one did though. No one was saying anything…
Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
Apple Books UK
Apple Books US
Kobo
Smashwords
Happy reading everyone,
Kay xxxx
May 9, 2024
Digging Deep: Archaeological erotica
Updated, and featuring a beautiful new cover, Digging Deep, takes you to #Tunisia and a world of archaeology, jealousy, and lust fuelled romance.
Blurb
Dr Beth Andrews’ first foreign excavation, which she co-runs with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start.
Thanks to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, an overzealous student, and a broken mosaic, Anglo-American relations are pushed to the limit, while Beth’s erotic and romantic expectations are similarly tested.
Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!
***
Inspired by a dig I worked on myself – far more years ago than I care to mention – Digging Deep is now available as an e-book.
You can find Digging Deep on Amazon UK and across the world, except for in the US and Canada. (My apologises to you if you are in those territories and wished to read the book – this is due to a rights issue I am unable to fix.)
Happy reading everyone,
Kay xx
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