Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 49
April 7, 2016
Release Blitz and Extract from Lily Harlem: Desk Job
Hot off the press is Lily Harlem’s latest ménage a trois novel based in London, Desk Job. Her London Menage set of books are taking off, the first one Muscling In has received many 5* reviews and Desk Job is set to do the same. Currently working on the third book in this series, Lily says she never believes three is a crowd, and in her opinion more is definitely merrier!
Here’s the low down on Desk Job, which, incidentally, can be enjoyed as a standalone read, these books are only very loosely connected.
Desk Job
It’s just another PA job, right? Okay, the CEO is hot, and his partner hotter, but that doesn’t mean Stella Wright has to fall for their erotic brand of seduction. Does it?
Who is she kidding? Stella is only human, she has bills to pay and insecurities about how she looks the same as we all do. So when Andre Bramon asks her to work on more than just dictation she can’t resist.
Tristan Wainwright is a different matter. Brooding and dark, he barely has time to ask her to do anything. Then when he does finally pause, noticing her, all that pent up energy reaches a boiling point.
Before long Stella is swept up in a passionate love affair with not one man, but two. She never expected a threesome to be part of her job description, though now…well, perhaps it might prove to be the perfect solution to a whole host of her problems.
Excerpt
“I’m going to apologize in advance for this … but I can’t help myself.”
He ran his hand around the back of my neck, his fingers slotting into my hair, and pulled me closer. He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he dragged me to him.
I released a groan of longing. He tasted exactly how I’d imagined—dark heat and man, a hint of coffee.
Releasing my grip on the chair, I grasped his shoulders. Beneath his cotton shirt was hard muscle. Damn, why was that shirt in the way?
He moaned into my mouth as he stroked over the top of my stockings, tracing the lace with his fingertips.
He kissed with the same skill and intensity as he approached his work. I surrendered to it. Allowed him to whisk me up into a heady soup of lust.
Could we? Here?
Fuck.
What am I doing?
I tore my lips from his.
He didn’t stop kissing me and traveled his lips over my cheek to my neck.
“Tristan.”
“Mmm, Stella. You’re so sexy. You’ve got me crazy for you. All week … how you look, talk, hell the way you walk…”
“No…” What about Andre? “But.”
“No, buts. Please, no buts.” He cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I pushed at his shoulders and tore my gaze from his. “I can’t.”
He tugged his hand free of my skirt and stood, releasing me. A flash of disappointment went over his face and I couldn’t help noticing a large bulge behind his zipper.
“Forgive me.” I stood, and in a strange, limping gate, rushed to the ladies’ restroom. I pushed through the door, then stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at my smudged lipstick.
My mind was swimming. What the hell was going on with me? I was a one-man woman. I never cheated. I didn’t two-time. That wasn’t who I was.
But Andre and I were hardly in a relationship. We’d had a night of fun. We were going for lunch tomorrow.
It was the start of something. But I wanted to start something with Tristan too. I liked him, more than liked him. I wanted him. I wanted his body, I wanted his mind, I wanted the special smiles that he seemed to save just for me.
“Stella. Please, come out.”
I glanced at the door. Tristan had opened it a fraction, though I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me because it opened in the opposite direction.
I didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s not your fault.” I reached for a tissue and tidied my smudged lipstick.
“Clearly it is. Please, come out here and let’s talk this through. I can explain.” “Explain?”
“Yes.”
I ran the cold water and put my wrists under the flow. It was as if a fire were burning inside of me.
“I promise you, Stella, there really is no reason to be so upset.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” I turned off the water. He knew nothing.
“Please … otherwise I’ll come in there and get you.”
I didn’t doubt it.
I went to the door. As I reached it, my broken shoe emerged around the small opening. The heel appeared reattached.
“I fixed it.”
“That was quick.”
“I’m known for efficiency.”
Of course he is. I took it and, with one palm placed on the wall, slipped the shoe back on.
“It probably won’t hold for long. But it will get you home,” he said.
I opened the door fully.
Tristan had one hand against the frame, his elbow locked. When he saw me, he released it and straightened.
“Thank you.” I stepped past him. “For fixing my shoe.”
“Stella, let me explain.” He gripped my upper arm and spun me to him, not roughly but not completely gently either.
My breath hitched as I looked into his earnest face.
“There is nothing to explain, Tristan. I like you, really I do…” And yes, given the chance I’d roll into bed with him in a heartbeat. He was someone I wanted to get to know better in every sense of the word, much better. “But I’m seeing someone.”
His eyebrows twitched, then he nodded. “I know.”
“How … But…?”
“Andre.” He kind of shrugged then released my arm. “It’s not a big deal.”
“How can it not be a big deal? He’s your business partner.” Damn, had Andre told him everything, the way I’d wondered if he had?
“He’s more than a business partner. He’s my best friend. We’ve been through the good and the bad times together and you…”
“Me?”
“We’d definitely like you to be the good times.”
“I’m not following…” I patted my hair, it was messy at the back from where he’d ran his fingers through it. “Why did you kiss me if you knew I was seeing Andre?”
“Because I know he won’t mind, not in the least.”
“How do you know that?” Most blokes I knew would mind very much if another guy kissed the girl they were seeing. “Is he missing the jealousy gene?”
Tristan gave a twisted smile. “Oh no. I can’t imagine he’d want anyone else touching you, kissing you, but me … well that’s different.”
“How? Because you’re friends, because you’re close?”
“That and…”
“And what?”
“Well…” He shifted from one foot to the other. “We decided a while ago that we needed a personal assistant to share, one person who understood what the other was doing so that our diaries and commitments didn’t clash.”
I nodded. I understood that.
“And we also decided…” He hesitated.
I wondered what the hell he was going to say next. I hadn’t known Tristan to be anything other than super confident but he was standing before me now, slowly gathering words. “What did you decide?”
“That not only do we want to share a PA, we also want to share a woman.”
***
To continue reading, please purchase from…
Evernight Publishing, Amazon, Amazon UK, ARe or your favourite retailer.
About Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight Publishing, All Romance eBooks, and Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.
Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot, In Expert Hands and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.
Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.
Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Trilogy – The Novice, The Player, and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
Check out Lily’s website for details of her other books and her Amazon Author Page. Subscribe to her newsletter to be the first to hear of new releases and free reads, and if you enjoy Facebook, hop on over there and say hi!
Find Lily on the web.
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem
Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk
BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts
Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem
April 5, 2016
My First Time: Jillian Boyd
It’s that time again- I’m welcoming the lovely Jillian Boyd to my site today to tell us about her early publishing experiences in the land of erotica.
Over to you Jillian…
Can you remember writing the first story you actually wanted to write, rather than those you were forced to write at school? What was it about?
I wasn’t ever forced to write at school – on the contrary, I think writing assignments in school were a big part of me falling in love with writing. That, and voracious reading.
What was your first official publication? Was that erotica?
It was an MMF ménage story in a seasonal anthology. So yes, it was erotica.
I had no idea I’d be an erotica writer- it just came from nowhere! Was writing erotica something you intended to do, or was it a bit of a shock?
Same as you, Kay – I had no clue. I’d started blogging first, and participating in erotica writing memes was what made me think “hey, wait a minute, this is something I enjoy”. I wasn’t shocked as much as surprised that I liked it and that it was something I could feasibly be good at.
What effect did that have on your life?
I think with me you’ll always have to take into account that I write a personal sex and relationships blog as well as erotic fiction. So it was a combination of those two that led me to want to push myself out of the situation I was in at the time I started and take on whatever came my way.
I *think* it’s safe to say it was a good effect…
Does your first published story reflect your current writing style?
I actually re-read it not too long ago and, although I’ll always hold a special place for it in my heart because it was my first published story, once it got to the dialogue I promptly cringed myself inside out.
What are you working on at the moment?
Currently, writing is on the backburner as I’m focussing on nailing a high-pressure period in my day job! Which isn’t as bad as that sounds, because I love my day job and I need a bit of a break from writing if I’m honest.
***
Buy links –
Inked: Sexy Tales of Tattoo Erotica – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01CXBRFEM/?tag=sexylittlewords-21
Licked (as editor) –
Bio
Jillian Boyd is an author, editor, blogger and all-round nosy parker. Based in London, she can often be found in coffee shops. She blogs at ladylaidbare.com.
***
Many thanks Jilly! Fabulous interview,
Happy reading,
Kay xx
April 2, 2016
From Punished to Making Him Wait, via The Circus…
Many years ago I wrote a short story called Punished, for the much missed Oysters and Chocolate webzine. Written from the perspective of a young woman who, with her boyfriend, had been caught having sex without permission by their master, Punished was one of the first BDSM tales I ever wrote.
Sometime after Punished appeared on the web, I was reading some of my other literary wares at the Sh! Women’s Store in London, when a man bounded up to me- with what can only be described as hopeful enthusiasm! That man was Kojo Black- the owner of the Sweetmeats Press, who kindly told me how much he’d loved reading Punished, and asked if I’d like to write something for him… Something like Punished – but not Punished- and a bit longer…
This was quite a challenge. Obviously I wanted to produce something in the same BDSM vein, but something brand new. The result was The Circus, which is a novella which can honestly be called short (approx. 12k words) – but not sweet!
The positive consequences of my writing Punished didn’t end there. After I’d completed The Circus, I had another request from Mr Black- ‘Hey Kay, fancy writing a novel for me now…?’
Well, what could I say…?
So along came my, very much longer, erotically kinky romance novel Making Him Wait! Still BDSM, but a very different kind- a mind over matter kind- where you’re never quite sure who has the upper hand…
So Kojo’s enjoyment of that first short tale Punished led to The Circus, and The Circus led to Making Him Wait, and Making Him Wait led back to… Punished…
After receiving permission to reuse all the stories that I’d had on the Oysters and Chocolate site, it seemed only natural to knock on Kojo’s door, and say, ‘Hello- fancy taking on Punished?’
And his answer? Well, that would be a yes!
If you’d like to find out what it was that Kojo liked so much about my mini story Punished, then you can download it from Amazon.com , Amazon UK, and other good e-retailers!
Happy reading guys!!
Kay xx
March 30, 2016
My First Time: Ria Restrepo
My series of interviews with erotica writers documenting their first time publishing/writing experiences is proving so popular, that I’m going to be popping them up a little more frequently for a while.
Today I’m delighted to welcome the lovely Ria Restrepo to my site. So why not go and grab a cuppa, a little something to nibble, put your feet up, and have a little read…
Can you remember writing the first story you actually wanted to write, rather than those you were forced to write at school? What was it about?
Yes, I remember it vividly. I was in my first year at university and going through a lot of emotional upheaval. While I was trying to study in upstate New York, I kept getting distressing phone calls from my parents in Miami. There was a lot of crap going on with their psycho neighbours and some unrelated drama with my extended family. I’m an only child, so I was naturally very close to my parents and felt isolated and helpless.
To vent my frustration, I started writing. It was a psychological thriller, called Rachel’s Destruction, about a coed whose parents were killed, so she seduces a gangster to help her get revenge on all the people responsible for their deaths. There was a surprising amount of sex in it. The opening scene was her giving her shrink a blowjob to escape a mental hospital. Let’s just say, there was no “happy ending” for the doctor.
I shared a few chapters with a friend at the time and she called it “dark and twisted, but hot.” I’d been reading a lot of Anne Rice and Stephen King, so that may have influenced the direction of my musings.
Rachel’s Destruction remains unfinished, in a manila folder, tucked away in the back of a desk drawer — along with a lot of other unfinished early work. I’d never really planned on publishing it, but who knows? I may revisit the story and finish it at some point.
What was your first official publication? Was that erotica?
No, it wasn’t erotica. When I finally got serious about my writing and getting it published, I had a couple of things happen around the same time. I’m not sure which happened first. Under my given name, I had two literary fiction short stories published in an anthology of local writers. Both were very idealistic and heavy with meaning, but definitely G-rated.
The other thing was a chapter I’d written for Harlequin’s website. They had something called a “Round Robin.” One of their writers would start a story, then readers would submit the next chapter. They’d choose a winner and publish it on their website. It went on like that until they decided to finish the story. When I discovered this, the Round Robin was already under way, but I thought I’d give it a shot. Shockingly, the first time out, my chapter won and was published. I think the story was called “A Touch of Scandal,” but it was PG-rated. I don’t know if Harlequin still has this contest.
I had no idea I’d be an erotica writer- it just came from nowhere! Was writing erotica something you intended to do, or was it a bit of a shock?
No, I didn’t set out to write erotica — although, as I mentioned, my writing started out with a lot of sex. Mainly, I was interested in writing romance, but tried just about everything to “get published.” My writing was all over the place — everything from literary fiction to political humor.
My first complete novel was a romance, which I now look back on with horror. There was more wrong with that book than was right. It had just about every mistake a novice writer can make. At the time, though, I submitted it everywhere and it was rejected — rightfully so. But I continued writing and submitting, learning the hard way, through trial and error. Finally, I wrote a chick-lit novel intended for Harlequin’s Red Dress Ink imprint and they asked to see the complete manuscript. Thrilled that it made it that far and hoping for the best, I rested on my laurels when I should have been working on another novel. This was another newbie mistake.
During this down time, I discovered the website Literotica. Yes, there is a lot of poor writing on there, but there are also some very hot stories. My only exposure to erotica up until that point was Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy, which I read in college. I loved the series and it made a big impression on me. After enjoying some dirty stories on Literotica, I submitted one of my own under a pen name for a contest. It didn’t win, but was very well received. Soon, I was editing other people’s stories for their volunteer editing program. One of the writers I was working with introduced me to the Erotica Readers and Writers Association (ERWA) and their calls for submissions. I met a lot of talented writers and learned a great deal.
I began writing and submitting erotica more seriously after that and had a few modest successes. Although Harlequin ultimately passed on my chick-lit novel, I was still writing romance too. It wasn’t until years later when “erotic romance” became popular that I decided to focus on writing romance, erotica, and all the shades in between. My path to writing erotica has been a long and winding one.
What affect did that have on your life?
My erotica writing has been a dirty little secret for a long time. I come from a sexually repressed Catholic background. Although my parents didn’t ram the church down my throat, make me go to mass, or indoctrinate me in the catechism, the mentality was still there. Anything sexual was verboten. Oh, I knew my father kept dirty magazines hidden in the bathroom, but I knew better than to talk about it.
Even though I’d been doing it since I was about twelve, I didn’t learn the word “masturbate” until I was almost in high school. A friend of mine mentioned it and of course I denied ever doing such a thing. I doubt she believed me, but she was kind enough not to call me on it. So writing and reading erotica has always been about exploring the forbidden and embracing my sexual desires.
Still, I can count on one hand the number of people from my everyday life that know I write erotica. When I tell people that I’m a writer, I say I write romance. It covers a multitude of sins, saves me embarrassment and censure from folks who’d be scandalized, and allows me to avoid unwanted attention from lecherous men.
Does your first published story reflect your current writing style?
Not at all. I’ve learned a lot since then and honed my writing style. I’d like to think I’m a much better writer now. I’m also concentrating on writing romance and erotica as Ria Restrepo. I’d written under my given name initially, and then under another pseudonym, which I’d rather not reveal for personal reasons. After a hiatus, I relaunched my writing career as Ria Restrepo at the end of 2014. My first story as Ria was an erotic romance called “Undercover Desires,” published in early 2015 in Spy Games: Thrilling Spy Erotica. My most recent published work, “Restitution,” was released January 2016 in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1. Not much about my style has changed between those two stories, although “Restitution” is more erotica than erotic romance.
What are you working on at the moment?
Apart from continuing to write and submit short erotic stories for publication, I’m working on a full-length erotic romance novel called “Bounty girl.” I started working on it for NaNoWriMo 2015. It’s about a submissive bounty huntress who goes after the fugitive brother of her first love/Dom. Of course, all sorts of complications and shenanigans ensue!
My first published work as Ria Restrepo was “Undercover Desires” in Spy Games: Thrilling Spy Erotica, published by House of Erotica and edited by Jillian Boyd. The buy links page on House of Erotica’s site is here:
“Restitution” in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 is my most recent published work. Buy links here:
http://www.bweoftheyear.com/#!where-to-buy-the-book/kqdgr
Another story, “Rickshawing with Rick and Shawn,” a MMF erotica piece is coming out soon in Prompted. No buy links for it yet, but you can read about it here:
Also, here are links for my website and blog:
Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com
Blog: http://riarestrepo.blogspot.com
Bio:
Ria Restrepo has written in many genres, from literary fiction to political humour, under various names. Now she’s focused on writing what she loves to read—romance, erotica, and all the shades in between. She’s spent most of her life in South Florida and continues to live in the Sunshine State, because she still has nightmares about standing in feet of snow, waiting for the school bus in rural Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in Spy Games: Thrilling Spy Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Vol. 1, and will be in the upcoming anthology Prompted.
***
Thanks for a wonderful interview Ria – good luck with Prompted and all your future work.
Happy reading,
Kay xx
March 27, 2016
A Special Kind of Freedom: Writing Erotica
A few weeks ago I had the lovely Emmanuelle on my blog talking about why she writes erotica- her blog (which you HAVE to read) reminded me of a blog I wrote myself for Chloe Thurlow some time ago – erotica writing, unlike any other genre- brings with it a certain amount of freedom.
Not only is the writer able to live out any fantasy and scenario in their heads- usually way beyond the remit of what they’d do in real life- but they can take their readers to places they’d never dared go before- and turn them on whilst they are doing so. There is a certain thrill in that knowledge alone. The thought that my words are providing others with the ultimate pleasure, without having ever met me- wow- powerful stuff!!
The following is part of a blog I did for Chloe Thurlow, which expands my point…
…”As Kay Jaybee, I have something of a reputation. I am frequently referred to as the ‘Queen of Kink;’ and when I meet people at readings, I’m often seen with a paddle in hand, skimpily clad, and whip wielding. This ‘adopting of a fantasy’ role is just that: a fantasy. I am, after all, in the happy making business! Would I really want to spank the odd arse and tie up the occasional passing person? Well – yes – of course I would. But would I actually do it? Would I push my own boundaries beyond the realm of paper and pen? Well, that’s up to you and your imagination to decide…
After almost a decade of writing smut I’m more and more convinced that one of the main issues people have with erotica writers isn’t a disapproval of what we write, but a sense of being threatened by it. They (and I know I’m generalising here) are uncomfortable with letting their own imaginations widen; of pushing their own private boundaries a fraction. Are they perhaps afraid of what they may discover about themselves?
If that sounds like you, then try, just try. Read a little erotica, after all, what happens within the safe confines of your own mind while you are reading it, is for your knowledge alone. The boundaries we push within our own heads – like our dreams – are ours and ours only. They are, in their own way, a special kind of freedom…”
You can read the remainder of that blog here, as well as many other brilliant blogs. (Chloe has some quality stuff over on her site)
I started to write erotica by accident- but now, eleven years in- I write it for the sheer exhilaration of it. The freedom of it. Maybe to bring me closer to the person who I’d like to be if I was a little braver? I’m not sure…but that doesn’t matter- because I do know I’m making a few other people happy with my words.
Isn’t that what we are here for?
Happy reading,
Kay xx
March 25, 2016
A Little Taste of Yes Ma’am: Military Style…
It’s time for a spot of Fem Dom action today- so it’s time to say Yes Ma’am- plus a free read…
Blurb-
A collection of six arse spankingly, wrist binding, whip wielding tales of female domination, Yes Ma’am contains straight, lesbian and bi-sexual encounters of the S&M nature.
Lying in Wait– Cadet Luke Porter is the least successful army recruit in the squadron. The butt of his comrades jokes, his reputation badly needs improving, and he is desperate to do well in the seek and rescue exercise he’s about to embark upon. Some of his female counterparts however, have other plans, and are determined to find out just how far Luke will go to improve his standing within the regiment…
Black – He is intoxicated by the woman in black. He can’t explain why he needs to see her, why he willing does precisely what she tells him to. Why she has such an effect on him, as she sits him in the backroom of a private club and weaves her web of control around him. He is beginning to think he has sold his soul to the devil herself…
Dear Claire – Ali has secretly lusted over her best friend’s lover Rick, for a long time. At least, she thought it was a secret. When her friend Claire asks her to take coffee into Rick as he lies in bed, it appears that Claire has left Ali a gift wrapped present; her boyfriend, shackled, blindfolded, and ready for Ali to do whatever she likes with. Amazed by Claire’s generosity, Ali doesn’t know where to start, until she sees the neat sentence tattooed on Rick’s arse, ‘If I don’t obey my mistress, I will be punished.’
“Don’t You Emma” – In a delicious corruption of Lee’s longed for fantasy, his lover Daisy arranges for them to share another woman. Rather than enjoying a full-on threesome however, Lee finds himself forced to sit and observe his partner perform all the chastisements she normally saves just for him upon a girl called Emma. A girl who, it seems, can withstand the punishments Daisy dishes out with far more self control than Lee has ever managed. Simply sitting in an armchair has never been so difficult…
Not Taking the Tube – Venting his frustration at being delayed yet again by London’s Underground system on the nearest official, the harassed businessman finds his complaints aren’t received in quite the way he’d expected. The petite guard upon whom he directs his anger has just about had enough of the constant string of complaints from the commuters she tries to help. Swiftly turning the tables on her latest assailant, she realises her own pent up anger quickly, sexily, and with the expert use of her surprised companion’s black leather belt…
Rachel’s Twisted Tale – Imprisoned in a bare room, high at the top of an old house, totally naked, her long golden plait wrapped around her body, Rachel waits. She waits for her mistress gaoler to punish her for being perfect. She waits for Tom, her secret lover, to climb in through the window and fuck her senseless. Rachel knows he could free her. He could help her escape the agonies and humiliations she endures, but she doesn’t want saving. Rachel needs to stay. Rapunzel never suffered like this….
This kinky anthology gets a Brit Babe rating of…
Lying In Wait
Surely they must be close. The quiet that hung in the air around him had passed beyond uncomfortable, and was fast heading towards eerie.
He had already swept the whole house. The pulse in Cadet Luke Porter’s neck galloped as he contemplated the reaction he’d get from the other squaddies if he screwed up yet another exercise. They teased him enough as it was.
Two o’clock in the morning, shrouded in the gloom and shadows of the night, the new recruit’s task was to crawl through the replica semi-detached house, without falling or being discovered by the “enemy” and rescue the “victim” lying wounded within. In this case, the enemy consisted of two more experienced cadets and the victim was his corporal, who had been left to “finish this damn seek and rescue exercise off” by the sergeant in charge, who’d definitely had a bee in her bonnet about something before she’d pissed off with all the other new recruits.
Luke strained his ears for any sound or movement. He hadn’t expected the dark to feel so oppressive. Despite the heavy pack he carried, his helmet, and the uniform in which he was dressed, the chill of the place make Luke shiver. It was best not to think that he was one of only four people stuck in this deserted replica town bang in the middle of Salisbury Plain. The fact that the whole thing was only an exercise and nothing life-threatening could really happen didn’t stop the adrenalin pumping through his body.
Risking a glance at his watch, Luke saw he only had four minutes to find the corporal and get outside. Exhaling slowly, he pushed himself away from the wall and felt for the doorway.
Calling out wasn’t an option in case the pseudo-enemy heard, so he studied the shadows carefully as he edged into the next room. Still nothing. This was strange, he had been in this room before; he’d looked around all the furniture and, even through the criss-cross of shadows, he should have been able to spot anyone easily.
Retreating, Luke headed to the hallway and crept down the stairs, concentrating hard on not making them squeak. His head throbbed, and he was aware of a patina of sweat spreading across his palms and down his neck.
A swift double-check of the kitchen and dining area produced nothing, and there was no one tucked behind the door in the downstairs bathroom. That only left the living room, and he’d been in there twice already.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’
The hazy outline of a woman sprawled on the sofa in the centre of the room was immediately obvious. ‘What!’ Luke’s face flushed with angry embarrassment. He’d checked this room. ‘You weren’t here before.’
Without wasting his breath complaining about being tricked by his “helpless” victim who’d obviously been dodging around to avoid him, Luke pulled at the wrists of Corporal Phelps so he could haul her towards the front door.
The woman however, resisted all attempts to be moved.
Doing his best to rein in his temper, Luke hissed between clenched teeth, ‘Corporal, I’ve got seconds to get you out. Now come on!’
‘I don’t think so, Lukey Baby.’
He’d long since given up reacting to the use of his hated nickname. As the youngest of the new recruits, he’d learnt to live with it. ‘You know I have to get this exercise right, now just fucking well get up!’
Grinning up at him, blatantly enjoying his cracking temper, fiddling with a stray black hair that had escaped from her ponytail, she spoke with annoying calm, ‘That’s not a very nice way to ask for help, Lukey. How about saying please?’
‘Corporal, I need you to come outside with me – please.’ Making a lunge at her waist, he picked Phelps up and threw her over his shoulder.
Corporal Phelps called out as she was hoisted into a fireman’s lift, ‘Hey girls! Do you see this? Lukey Baby is much stronger than he looks.’
Out of the gloom the two cadets who should have been acting as Luke’s “enemy” appeared before him.
Luke’s mouth opened to ask them what on earth they were playing at, but before a single word left his mouth Phelps had placed her hands over his groin and squeezed his dick hard. ‘Nice. It seems baby Lukey might not be quite so lickle ickle after all.’
Without stopping to think, and trying to ignore his body’s reaction to the Corporal’s groping, Luke threw Phelps off his shoulder, onto the sofa. Dumping his heavy pack, and pulling off the helmet, he looked from one woman to the other. Despite the dark it was easy to see that they were all smirking at him.
Refusing to give them the satisfaction of him shouting, Luke managed to control his anger. ‘Well done!’ You’ve managed to mess up my last chance. My last chance to get one of these bloody exercises right. Well ha-ha. If you wanted to get me thrown out, then you’re doing a great job!’
Completely indifferent to his words, still sprawled on the sofa where he’d dropped her, Phelps lifted herself up onto her elbows, her ankles swinging playfully in the air behind her. ‘We just wanted to see if it was true.’
‘To see if what was true?’
It was the redhead who Luke knew as Cadet Richards who replied, ‘To see if you’re all grown up.’
A new layer of perspiration prickled his forehead as the meaning of what she was saying sank in.
The third girl, Carter, stepped closer and took hold of both of his hands. Her skin was soft and cold, ‘You can forgive our curiosity surely?’ She used no force to ease his arms towards her and her tone was so reassuring that for a split second Luke thought she was about to apologise for their behaviour and end this charade.
In that instant, the full force of his naivety hit him. Leaping from the sofa, Phelps and Carter stripped Luke’s camouflage jacket from his back and yanked his T-shirt from his arms and head with an expertise that convinced him they’d worked together in this way before.
As Phelps held his wrists securely behind him, Richards came directly in front of Luke with eyes blazing like points of fire in the gloom. Shocked, Luke knew she was defying him to move as her fingers came to his black belt, and made short work of undoing it. ‘Let’s see just how big a boy you are…’
****
Buy Links-
Remember to keep a cool drink handy when you’re reading this book- HOT!!!
Happy reading
Kay xx
March 23, 2016
My First Time: Emmanuelle de Maupassant
Today it’s time for another in the ‘My First Time’ series- and I’m delighted to welcome Emmanuelle de Maupassant to my blog today for a cup of something and a chat!
Over to you Emmanuelle…
My First Time
Can you remember writing the first story you actually wanted to write, rather than those you were forced to write at school? What was it about?
About 11 years ago, I was living in one of the former Soviet states and began researching old, pagan superstitions and customs, including folk mythologies. I felt a compulsion to write my own tales using my findings: not retellings of existing Russian fairy tales, but something original, combining elements from various sources. These were early drafts of stories which now feature in my Cautionary Tales. They were more bawdy than erotic, and focused on the darker side of those old superstitions. It was a full decade before I returned to them in earnest and polished them, with the help of my editor (Adrea Kore).
What was your first official publication? Was that erotica?
My first works in print were travel guides, commissioned for the Culture Smart! series and for Dorling Kindersley’s Eyewitness series. Before that, I’d written travel articles for various journals including The Times.
I had no idea I’d be an erotica writer – it just came from nowhere! Was writing erotica something you intended to do, or was it a bit of a shock?
I was chatting with a friend and, somehow or other, we pretty much dared each other to write something ‘naughty’. From there, ‘The Gentlemen’s Club’ was born: a rather provocative tale set in 19th century London. I began writing without any clear plot direction, but guided by a definite desire to write about sexual obsession. My fingers almost had a life of their own and, one month later, my first draft was complete.
What affect did that have on your life?
I’ve never been happier. I have license to write into ‘dangerous’ places. There’s no point hiding anything, or pretending.
Does your first published story reflect your current writing style?
My first novella is set in Victorian London, so I evoked 19th century language and a fair amount of historical detail. My latest release has a very different voice, using dark humour and elements of the grotesque. It’s called Cautionary Tales and is a collection of macabre folktales tinged with erotic horror. I’ve blended eroticism with a sense of creeping dread for what lurks in the shadows.
What are you working on at the moment?
Volume Two in my Noire series, which is set in Italy, in 1899. Lashing of gothic mystery, a vile villain, a cunning seductress, and a host of eccentric characters. It should be ready for release by late summer.
Buy links-
To my first published story: The Gentlemen’s Club
and to my latest book: Cautionary Tales
Bio
Emmanuelle de Maupassant lives with her husband (maker of tea and fruit cake) and her hairy pudding terrier (connoisseur of squeaky toys and bacon treats).
Other links – you can follow Emmanuelle at:
https://twitter.com/EmmanuelledeM
https://www.facebook.com/erotiquemuse
***
Many thanks hun- wonderful interview.
Kay xx
March 19, 2016
FREE READ: Quick Kink One- The Shirt
I thought I’d give you a little gift today to say thank you for dropping by- a free read!
A complete story from my Quick Kink One collection!
Enjoy…
The Shirt
I have a favourite shirt. It’s black, plain, and simply cut. The supple matt fabric clings flatteringly against my chest and stomach, without managing to make me look like I’ve been vacuum-packed into it. Its thin granddad collar leads down to a satin ribbon-edged v-neck, which reveals a hint of generous cleavage. Yet it, that shirt of mine, doesn’t make me look slutty or tarty, just, well… tempting. Or so I’m told.
Perched on the edge of my bed, I stare at my favoured garment, hooked over the bedroom door, waiting to be placed with its colleagues amongst the clutter of my ultra-stuffed wardrobe. I can’t help but smile as I recall the hands that have run over that shirt. Men’s hands, women’s hand, delicate hands and calloused hands; digits that have dared to trail around the neck-line, perhaps lingering over, or accidently straying onto, the flesh beneath.
Rather than shove it in with it’s fellow shirts, I have a sudden urge to hug the material to me, to feel the caress of its soft sheen against my skin. With a reverence which I usually only reserve for large bars of chocolate, I lift the shirt from its hanger and lye back on my Queen sized bed, holding it to my face. It smells of cleanliness and the washing powder I habitually use, but mostly it holds the scent of promise, the promise of getting dirty all over again.
Closing my eyes, sinking my head back into the plump pillows, I think of the last set of hands to travel across the inches of fabric that make up the distance from the black shirts neckline to its hemline. A short length, but, when time is taken, it can become a frustratingly long journey. A frustrating, arousing and deliciously tense journey. There are times however, when those who encounter my shirt are in no mood to take their time.
I can see him clearly. He is standing only inches from me, and the air between us positively tingles with electricity. I could never love him, the man who currently adores me in my favourite shirt, but that’s alright, because he could never love me either. Lust however, is in no short supply.
This is the black shirt that inspired this story…
jenny hendrix fucked by voodooShutting my eyes tighter, rubbing my shirt across my cheeks, my forehead and my eyelids, I begin to reminisce on the moment we first gave into the silent eroticism that seems to swim between us each time we chat over the counter of the little bookshop I own. I clutch the fabric tighter as I think of his fingers, thicker than any I’ve encountered before, and yet somehow, for all that, incredibly dexterous.
That first time he followed me through from the shop floor to the small stock room behind, his hands were on the waist of my shirt before I’d even shut the door properly. As I look back, my pulse-rate increases, and behind my eyelids I see how, in his urgency, he threw me against the poorly painted grey wall. His palms, rough from manual labour, pushed my breasts, squeezing them so tightly through the material of my top that I squealed.
Continuing to trail that same freshly ironed shirt down my body, I can virtually feel his left arm wrap around me, hoisting me up. With my weight supported by the door, and my legs hooked around his waist, I’d gasped into his neck, as my companions right hand shot up my shirt, yanking my bra beneath my tits. Manhandling them, with a combination of exquisitely arousing nips and pinches, he treated my breasts as if he was kneading a couple of cottage loaves. I remember how he murmured into my ear then, telling me how I filled his night time fantasies, how badly he’d wanted to be alone with me, and how, when he pictured me, it was always in my gorgeous, low cut, beautiful black shirt.
Sitting up on my bed, I swiftly remove the red top I’m actually wearing, and pop open the bra which has become tight and uncomfortable at the thought of my lovers hot agile fingers. Picking the adored shirt back up, I stroke it across my hardening nipples, making myself moan softly into my recollections.
He dropped me then, so that he could take off his faded blue t-shirt. I stood, my pulse racing in shock at the intensity of the last few minutes of activity, my breath snagging in my throat at the sight of a smooth firm torso, that hadn’t been overworked, and yet spoke of strength and, somehow, confidence in its owners abilities. An unexpected Celtic cross tattoo sat centre stage on his chest, just beneath the neckline of his t-shirt. It intrigued me. I hadn’t known anyone with a tattoo before. Reaching out questioningly, I began to trace its outline. He’d laughed at me kindly, unable to understand my surprise at how it felt the same as the rest of his skin, amazed that I’d never touched one before.
I hadn’t been able to confine my exploration to his tattoo however, and soon I was passing my palms across his back, arms and legs in long sweeping moves, determined to discover every inch of his frame. I imagined I was a sculptor, running her hands over a finished masterpiece, searching for imperfections. I found none.
All the time I had been examining his upper body, my companion had been returning the favour. With my shirt now rucked up around my neck, and my bra disposed of, he’d had easy access to my chest, with which he was undeniably fascinated.
I pinched my own nipples as I lay against my duvet, recalling how I’d eyed his crotch. A wave of desire had enveloped me at the sight of the bulge straining beneath his filthy jeans.
Picking up on my silent message, he’d grabbed at the belt that kept my denims in place, and deftly kneeling, had bought my trousers to my ankles. The fast pace of our coupling then returned, and before I had time to register what was happening, I was crying with relief as the stale air of the stockroom brushed my newly naked pussy, quickly to be followed by a probing finger, and then, wonderfully, a hot wet tongue.
Experiencing the same twitch of longing between my legs as I do when I’m with him, my snatch rippled as I lay against my bed. I removed the remainder of my clothes, and dragged the shirt down from my chest to between my open legs. Wet patches dotted onto the black material as I massaged it across my clit. My mouth went dry as I remembered how he had attacked my cunt on that initial glorious meeting. Not gently, not slowly teasing me until I begged for more, but with a full on, fast, rough, bucket load of lips, laps, sucks and nips, that bought me shuddering to the quickest and most intense climax of my life.
A quiver ran down my shoulders and began to flutter at the base of my stomach as I thought on. Of how I’d pulled him to his feet the second I’d finished shaking; of how I’d copied his gesture with belt, trousers and underwear, and knelt before him. His cock, thick and deliciously stiff had tasted of salty sweat, of busy days and hard work. The aroma alone had made me want to come all over again as I engulfed his length, hungrily moving him up and down my throat with an urgency that rivalled his own.
Suddenly, I realised I’d been echoing those past moans into the silence of my bedroom. One hand caressing the fast staining shirt between my legs, I returned the other to my right breast, tweaking the nipple far harder than I would when normally stealing a few moments of solo pleasure. I reclosed my eyes.
The tell tale swelling of his dick, and the taste of pre-come droplets gathering on my tongue, had informed me that he was about to come in my mouth, but then he’d pulled away. I’d been temporarily disorientated, until he told me, a look of pure lust creasing onto his rugged features, that he wanted to finish inside me.
Quickly positioning my unresisting body onto all fours on the dusty storeroom floor, he came up behind me, and only waiting to grab a condom from his back pocket, rammed his cock unceremoniously inside me. I had heard of people who claim to have been rutted like an animal, but until then I’d thought them to be either exaggerators, or wishful thinkers. Not any more.
Discarding my now sodden black shirt to the floor, I dug my nails into my clit, making myself yelp with painful ecstasy as I reminisced over his wild pumping, his totally abandoned need to consume my body with his. I spasmed under my own sharp touch, and scratched at my breasts, wanting to experience the strangely urgent pain he’d sent through me as he announced, in what can only be called a guttural growl, that he was about to come. The second he spoke, he’d sent a loud smack across my prone arse with the flat of his palm, making me scream in both shock and delightful agony as a second orgasm soared through me. With a final pump, he’d shot a spray of hot spunk into my body, accompanied by a very male groan of satisfied relief.
Taking a deep breath to steady my thudding heartbeat, I let my hands fall away from my shaking body. Retrieving my favourite shirt, I smoothed it carefully out over the crumpled bedcover. Damp and creased, it seemed to sum up the encounter I’d just happily relived.
The bookstore lorry driver and I have had many similar meetings since that first intense encounter, all of which take the phrase ‘quickie’ to a new level. We know very little about each other really, but I know that he loves my black shirt almost as much as I do, and that his fingerprints will always be invisibly yet indelibly marked across its fabric forever, no matter how many times I wash it.
****
I hope that hit the spot! You can find The Shirt in Quick Kink One, and in my Xcite collection, The Best of Kay Jaybee!
Buy links-
Quick Kink 1
The Best of Kay Jaybee
Happy reading,
Kay xx
March 18, 2016
Blog Tour: Researching Scandalously Yours
Scandalously Yours…
Blurb
Through the ages, where there has been society there have always been norms and, conversely, scandals when love gets in the way of propriety.
From the ancient Celts to medieval Cornwall, from Regency and Victorian England to the American west after the War Between the States, eight stories by multi-published, bestselling authors explore the triumphs of love between a man and a woman—even scandalous love—over what’s considered “proper” in their time.
Wilder’s Thief, by USA Today bestseller, Josie Jax
Robbing a bank wasn’t what reformed pickpocket Rachel Conroy had in mind. Yet when the lyin’ banker entangles her in one helluva financial fix, she finds herself in the bank of Diamond Bluff, Missouri, disguised as a lad and holding a gun on an unfamiliar teller. But the handsome man is so distracting she can’t keep her sex-addled brain on the task at hand—until he threatens to turn her over to the authorities to be hanged if she doesn’t return the money.
When village newcomer and winery owner Dierck Wilder mans his uncle’s small-town bank for a few fateful moments, he’s suddenly staring down the barrel of a revolver. His life veers off on a tumultuous path after he pursues the robber and uncovers a sexy diamond in the rough. Now to unearth the truth and tame Wilder’s bandit…
Aphrodite’s Necklace, by Anh Leod
Exiled by her husband to staid, Victorian England, the goddess Aphrodite is determined to spice up life for a mortal couple by giving them a magic necklace that opens their minds and hearts to passion. Can she teach innocents to delight in sensual love?
Emily Rogers is in the marriage mart, but once the necklace is in her hands, she enlists William Coxe, her family butler, to help find its owner. As Aphrodite intended when she dropped the priceless piece at a ball held in Emily’s home, desire overwhelms Emily—and also William, whom Emily’s parents would never countenance her marrying.
Good sense prevails when the two return the necklace to the goddess, but by this time love has caught the lovers in what seems an impossible situation. Can improper love survive the loss of Aphrodite’s necklace? Only with the goddess’s help can they find a way toward lasting happiness.
***
Over to Kate Rothwell to tell us about her own story research…
To get an accurate feel of the world I write about—or to avoid actual writing–I do research. For my story in this collection, Mademoiselle Makes a Match, I researched English country inns.
Though my story takes place in the mid-eighteen hundreds, my favorite source of information is a book written in 1904, Among English Inns by Josephine Tozier. https://archive.org/details/amongenginns00toziiala An American lady and her three companions (Tozier calls her friends the Matron, the Invalid and Peggy) tour the English countryside and there are some fabulous descriptions of inns.
When they visited Selborne, the ladies were excited because they were visiting the village of Gilbert White an English naturalist (18 July 1720 – 26 June 1793). Tozier mentions, almost in passing, that the village was also the home of Jane Austen.
The four ladies frequently take up all the available bedrooms in the inns they visit. Many country inns had few rooms to offer for the night and most of the income came from selling drinks to the locals. The inns range from ancient old single family homes to elaborate three-story structures that were built to be inns.
Travel at the turn of the 20th century sounds far more civilized. I suppose the very wealthy could arrange something like this, but the four ladies are ordinary travelers and this was a description of their journey by rail:
“We order two luncheon baskets to be handed in at Salisbury… The traveller orders lunch from the guard, the guard telegraphs ahead, and at the station designated in comes a boy with a flat basket, for which you give him three shillings and a couple of pennies as a tip. Inside the basket is a bottle of wine, or cider, or beer, as the case may be, half a cold chicken, some slices of ham, bread, butter, cheese, fresh crisp lettuce, all daintily put together, with plates, a glass, and Japanese napkins.”
Tozier is a witty observer and the book is charming. Writing historicals means doing research. When it comes to reads like this, this can be my favorite part of the job.
About Kate Rothwell:
Kate Rothwell is an award-winning author who also publishes under the name Summer Devon. She writes romances of all sorts, including some historical m/m books with Bonnie Dee. You can find her at http://katerothwell.com http://summerdevon.com and on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/S.DevonAuthor/?fref=ts
Buy links:
Amazon.com— http://amzn.to/1QG7y2d
Amazon UK– http://amzn.to/1POPAdZ
All Romance Ebooks– http://bit.ly/1Vk1rED
Kobo– https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/scandalously-yours-2-166.html
Smashwords– https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/612550?ref=cw1985
Books will also be available at barnesandnoble.com and iTunes (Apple), but buy links are not yet available for them.
*****
Don’t miss out on the blog tour – GIVEAWAY!
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be153/?
Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/scandalously-yours/
***
Good luck with the rest of your tour!
Happy reading,
Kay x
March 13, 2016
13 Fantasies: One Novel and some ropes, ribbons, and a collar…
Way back in 2007, when I wrote a two part story called Fantasy 13, I had no idea I was creating the basis to The Voyeur.
These original full-on BDSM parallel adventure short stories, both set in the ‘Discreet’ S&M club, were subtitled Clara’s Story and Anna’s Story.
As anyone who has read my work will know, I love writing BDSM stories, and for some time prior to penning the mini- series Fantasy 13, I’d toyed with the idea of setting a piece within a specialist club, which I’d decided to paradoxically entitle, Discreet! The only thing holding me back was that I was at a loss for an original story angle.
About the same time, I was sat in a café (as ever!), covertly people watching. A woman about my age was frantically scribbling down a list. I assumed it was a shopping list; but then I began to wonder- what if it wasn’t? What if it was something more interesting? Maybe it was a list of all the things she wished her husband, lover or girlfriend would do to, or with, her?
There was no stopping my imagination once I’d had that thought. Within the hour I had created Mark, a business man who kept a secret notebook in which to compile all his darkest desires. He doesn’t necessarily want to take part in any of these fantasies- he just wants to see them take place in front of him. The ultimate voyeur!
So, you could say that The Voyeur was originally a mixture of ideas gleaned from my long standing desire to write a story set in a sex club, and observing a woman jot down a shopping list in a café!!
Of course, once Mark existed in my imagination, I needed to create some willing assistants to make his dreams come true- and so PA Anya (originally Anna), and Housekeeper Clara, were born! Two professional, intelligent women, who think they know exactly what they are letting themselves in for- but do they?
BLURB-
Wealthy business man 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.
Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy -Fantasy 13- can take place.
But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.
In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…
***
If you fancy finding out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, how they cope with torture via erotica- and a huge number of other body wracking challenges – before the reasons for Mark’s sometimes cruel, sometimes caring, behaviour are finally discovered, you can buy The Voyeur from all good paperback and e-retailers, including-
***
Not only can you buy The Voyeur as a solo novel- you can now purchase as part of 2-part Boxed Set with the brilliant novel, The Pet Shop by Kd Grace- in The Collared Collection! A total erotic BDSM romance bargain!!!!
http://mybook.to/collaredcollection
Happy reading,
Kay xxx
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