A Little Holiday Reading…

August 25  |  Book Publications, eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Hello lovely readers- I’m away on my holidays at the moment, so I thought I’d leave you with something nice to read while I’m away- fancy a trip to Tunisia?

Digging Deep Blurb-

Dr Beth Andrew’s first foreign excavation as a site leader, which she co-run’s with the American archaeologist Dr Harrison Harris, gets off to a shaky start due to the jealous interference of Harrison’s ex, and an overzealous student… Love and lust really can cloud even the cleverest person’s judgement!


Influenced by my own adventures as an archaeologist in Africa, Digging Deep is the second of my Carid stories for Xcite.

Digging Deep


Hidden away in the garden at the rear of the house they were staying in, taking advantage of a few moments’ peace between the end of the morning’s digging and lunch, Harrison rested his back against the shaded trunk of a large-leafed palm tree. He’d told himself he was there so he could update his notes without being disturbed, but he knew he was really just avoiding Beth.

He screwed his eyes up against the ideas that seemed to circle on continuous loop through his head. She is a decade younger than me, lives in another continent, and is a colleague. So don’t even think about it! Determined not to contradict this train of thought with reminders of how badly he wanted to find out how far Beth’s freckles travelled across her body, what the spring of her russet ringlets would feel like in his fingers, or speculate about how she seemed to make him laugh even when the most ordinary words came out of her mouth in her cute English accent, Harrison had decided to keep as much distance between himself and Beth as possible. It would help if she wasn’t so damn good at her job.

He sighed hard. Work relationships were never a good idea – especially when they were only destined to work together for three months of the year! His year with Linda, Beth’s predecessor, had proved that. Anyway, such indiscretions were unprofessional, and Harrison had always prided himself on his professionalism.

As he urged himself to stop contemplating why Beth, in her multiple layers of clothing, felt more attractive to him than any of the semi-clad females who worked around the site, Harrison suddenly sensed that he wasn’t alone. Lifting his head from his notes, he saw Candida lounging against the wall on the opposite side of the dust-soiled garden.

His heart sank. Of all his students, she was the last person he felt like talking to. For a second, Harrison assumed she’d been looking for him, but swallowed a muted murmur of relief when she faced the other way, and tapped urgently against the touch screen of her phone.

Intent on staying focused on the report he was writing, Harrison sat silently against the side of the house, hoping that his student wouldn’t spot him. Bending his head to his work, Harrison snapped it up again as Candida’s grating voice echoed around the small, square garden.

‘Of course I’m not ignoring your calls.’

Raising his eyebrows, he immediately felt sorry for whoever was at the other end of the phone. Candida might well have been a sight for sore eyes with her rounded chest, flat stomach, and tanned legs that seemed to go on forever, but her voice was enough to scour the varnish off wood, and her “I’m beautiful and therefore you will love me” attitude was proof, if any was needed, that Candida Harker was Daddy’s little princess through and through. Not for the first time, Harrison cursed that the “daddy” in question was the owner of Harker International, the company providing most of the sponsorship for the dig, and so her presence on the team was secured each time Colorado University came to the site.

Harrison’s attempts to ignore the rest of her conversation were abruptly halted as Candida pronounced down the phone, ‘Well, you were right. She should have an eye kept on her. Who’d have thought it of someone so mousy and dull? I mean, she is so white and spotty she could be mistaken for the ghost of a leopard!’

There was a break from Candida’s high-decibel yakking, as whoever was on the other end of the call spoke, before she responded, ‘Well, yes, it seems she does have some sort of MILF quality. I tell you, no American guy would humiliate himself like that with anyone who wasn’t at least of goddess status. Which she most certainly is not! And not because he was in her debt!’

Trying not to care which of the English students Candida was ripping apart, and hoping like hell that everyone else was out of earshot of her diatribe, Harrison frowned as his student went on.

‘Supervisory skills? How the hell should I know? I’m on Harrison’s team, thank God. And will not be swapping under any circumstances.’

Harrison’s head jerked back up, his ears straining for information. Beth? She was bad-mouthing Beth. Why? He didn’t dare even rustle his papers, although he was sure Candida was so involved in her call that an entire herd of elephants could go by and she wouldn’t notice.

‘Yes, I know, but I don’t want …’

There was an odd hint of panic in his student’s voice now, and Harrison began to wish that the person on the other end of the phone was as loud as Candida, so he could hear whatever it was they were saying.

‘OK – well, I wasn’t going to tell you this …’

Like hell. Harrison recognised when Candida was building up to spill some slanderous scandal.

‘I don’t think it is her ability as an archaeologist that is in question. It is her relationship with her students. With one student in particular.’

A vision of Beth’s flushed face as she sat on Ryan’s lap, after the snake had frightened her, flashed through Harrison’s brain.

Candida was nodding in satisfaction, her previously concerned countenance replaced with one of smug relief. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s right.’

Harrison closed his eyes. Who the hell was on the end of that line? He gripped his papers, physically having to stop himself from getting up and ripping the cell phone from Candida’s hand so he could challenge the unseen recipient.

‘Well, OK, but it isn’t pretty.’ Candida paused as if for dramatic effect, as Harrison impatiently waited to hear what her coup de grâce against his colleague was going to be. A feeling of foreboding crept ever faster up his spine as he heard her say, ‘One of her students is fucking her in return for her silence.’

Harrison felt as though he’d swallowed an orange whole as a triumphant Candida went on. ‘Yes! Every day! Just so she won’t tell anyone he broke the mosaic he was excavating. Apparently, yesterday lunchtime Beth made Ryan beg! Can you credit it! She actually made him beg! And all that time the bitch was naked and getting a good time up on the open roof. Fuck! I mean, what would she have made him do if he’d smashed the whole thing, and not just crumbled the edge a bit?’

With the use of Beth’s name, the last vestige of hope that Harrison had been mistaken about what he’d heard evaporated. It isn’t true, he told himself. It can’t be – can it? But what is Candida up to? His appetite for lunch disappeared as, with morbid fascination, he continued to listen …


If you’d like to find out what happens next, then Digging Deep is available as a Cariad e-novella or paperback from –


Happy holidays!!

Kay xxx


Guest Post: Lily Harlem has a new Silk Tie!

No Comments
August 23  |  eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Today I’m welcoming the fantastic Lily Harlem, to tell us all about her super hot new book, The Silk Tie.

Over to you Lily…

“If you enjoyed The Glass Knot you’ll LOVE The Silk Tie.”

New from Lily Harlem, The Silk Tie, a steamy ménage a trois novel (mmf) that celebrates desire, fantasy and follows the brave decision of a woman to let a third into a her relationship. It’s steamy, sexy and leaves no detail unexplored. Grab a copy, settle down and enjoy a rollercoaster of emotions with Hayley, Gabe and Brent.


The Silk Tie is available from Amazon

The Glass Knot is available from Amazon and all other good ebook retailers

Back cover information

Professional life in the City of London is tough going which is why my husband Gabe and I live by the motto work hard and play hard. So when something, or rather someone, comes along that changes how he wants to play I’m intrigued by our sexy new game.

But there’s always private sides to the ones you love, and in this case new thoughts and desires are stealing Gabe’s dreams. It’s not until I meet Brent—gorgeous and sophisticated yet soul-achingly alone—that I begin to understand the complex layers of Gabe’s needs and exactly what I have to do.

But I’m not afraid; in fact the idea of two men turns me the hell on. In a whirlwind of romance, fear, desire and a new cresting wave of passion we open up to each other, testing the water for one weekend only. Or is it? Will we ever be the same again? Can Gabe and I survive our decision to let a third into our bed? Can Brent just walk away and, more importantly, will we let him?


The bathroom door opened, and Gabe wandered out wearing his favorite pair of worn jeans. His chest was bare and his hair was damp and pushed back over his head. He’d shaved that morning but I could smell a fresh application of his most expensive cologne.

“How are you doing?” I asked, standing.

Damn, he looked so absolutely fuckable.

He walked up to me and cupped my face. “I’m fine, are you?”

“Yes.” My stomach was tense and my skin hot and tingly, a bit like going up the ramp on a rollercoaster. But I was okay.

“No matter what happens, remember I love you,” Gabe said. “You’re my wife, my soul mate. Nothing can change that.”

“I know, and you remember that this is your moment of fun with Brent. Go with it. Forget I’m here. Realize the fantasy.”

“I doubt I’ll forget that you’re here…” He paused and smiled. “Well, maybe a little.”

I ran my hand down his chest then smoothed it over the lower curve of his defined pectoral muscles. “I put out the lube and condoms.”

He glanced at the locker. “Thanks.”

There was a knock at the door.

We both looked at each other then at the entrance to the room.

The door opened and Brent walked in.

He wore tight black boxers and nothing else. Like Gabe’s, his hair was damp.

He shut the door up and stood still, staring at us.

Gabe dropped his hands from my face and I took a step away.

“It’s dark in here,” Brent said.

“Too dark?” Gabe asked. “I can open the curtains.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Brent said, walking around the end of the bed and up to Gabe. “I can see you but it’s not dazzling. My eyes are adjusting now.” He smiled and gestured to the chair, looked my way. “You’ve found your viewing position, I see.”

“Yes.” I nodded.

He stepped past Gabe, reached for my hand and drew my knuckles to his lips. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

I swallowed. “I’m sure I will.”

He released me and turned to Gabe.

I admired Brent’s torso as he moved. Long and sleek, his muscles rippled gently beneath the surface. He didn’t appear to have any fat on him, he was just neat, harnessed strength. And his boxers covered an impressive bulge, the outline of which was easily made out. I’d guess he was already half-mast just with the anticipation of fucking Gabe.

“You smell good,” he said to Gabe as he ran the tip of his index finger over Gabe’s shoulder and down his bicep. “Delicious, in fact.”

Gabe tensed. “Thank you.”

“Relax,” Brent said. “You want this.”

“I do,” Gabe said, “I want you.”

Brent smiled then leaned forward and kissed my husband.

I stood and watched, mesmerized, the way I had been when I’d spied on them. Their large jaws moved in time. Both men had their eyes shut and the dance of their mouths showed their sleek tongues touching and exploring.

Gabe moaned a little, how he did when he became lost in a kiss, and he set his hands on the sides of Brent’s waist. The touch seemed a little hesitant, a bit awkward, though I could tell he was completely invested in the kiss.

Brent pulled back a fraction. He rested his palm on Gabe’s cheek then turned to me. “Come here, Hayley.”

I did as he’d asked. “What?” I asked quietly. My heart was thudding—just seeing them kiss did seriously stimulating things to my libido.

“Kiss him,” Brent said. “Kiss your husband.”

That was an instruction I didn’t need to be given twice.

Brent kept his hand on Gabe’s face as I meshed my lips with Gabe’s, prodding his tongue with mine and absorbing the lingering flavor of Brent in his mouth.

When I broke the kiss, Brent placed his hand on my face, too, so he was holding us both.

“You two are hot together,” he said smiling. “And so perfect for one another. I feel honored that you’ve let me in to fulfill a fantasy.”

“We feel the same about you being here,” Gabe said. He touched Brent’s mouth with his fingertips and traced the shape of his lips.

Brent smiled and gazed at Gabe. He then dropped his hand from my face and, as I’d done earlier, he caressed Gabe’s chest.

I felt Gabe’s shoulder shift against mine as he sucked in a breath. Being touched sensually, by a man, was what he’d wanted.

“I didn’t think you’d bother with jeans,” Brent said, slipping his hand down to Gabe’s waistband.

“I’m commando,” Gabe said with an almost shy smile.

Brent waggled his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Let’s have a look then, shall we?” Brent sank to his knees so his face was level with Gabe’s groin.

He undid the top button on Gabe’s jeans, then the next and the next. His big fingers worked slowly but steadily and his face held a serious expression of concentration.

Gabe was utterly still at my side.

Brent released the last button then tugged and shifted the jeans down to Gabe’s knees.

Gabe’s cock sprung forward, stiff and thick. The veins were raised and it jutted jauntily toward Brent’s face.

“Commando works for me,” Brent said. He swept his tongue over his bottom lip and stared at Gabe’s erection.

“I need…” Gabe kicked a little and rid himself of his trousers completely. “To lose these.”

Brent smiled and shoved the jeans aside. He didn’t take his gaze from Gabe’s cock. “Good, naked is how I like you best, so it seems.”

I liked Gabe naked too, but I wasn’t about to speak and break the sizzling connection between the two men. It was almost palpable. The air was alive with need.

Brent slid his palms up from Gabe’s knees to his thighs then tickled his fingers through Gabe’s wiry pubic hair.

Again Gabe tensed. He swayed too.

“You have an incredible dick,” Brent said. “I want to taste it.”

“Okay…” Gabe said, his voice breathy and light. “I mean yes…please do.”

Brent smiled, but only briefly because then he opened his mouth, leaned forward and took the head of Gabe’s cock between his lips. He gripped Gabe’s shaft with his right hand and with his left, scooped up his balls.

“Ah, fuck,” Gabe said. He toppled backward a few inches before adjusting his balance.

I snapped out my arm and curled it around his waist, felt his weight sag against me as I supported him.

“That’s…oh, God, your mouth on me…Brent.”

Gabe didn’t need to say the words. Brent’s mouth, stretched around the flare of Gabe’s cock, was a beautiful and highly erotic sight.

Brent slid Gabe’s shaft deeper. His eyes were shut and his jaw pulled wide. He fed Gabe in, slipping his fingers over his erection.

Gabe reached out and weaved his fingers into Brent’s hair. “Fucking hell,” he gasped.

Brent kept going. I knew how much of Gabe I could take in my mouth, and it wasn’t to the root but Brent was nearly there now. His cheeks bulged and his nostrils flared. I could hear him breathing hard through his nose.

Gabe panted and stared downward.

I held him tight, my nipples peaking against my floaty sundress and my pussy dampening the gusset of my knickers.

“Ahh, yeah…”Gabe said, rocking his hips forward.

Brent’s face became buried in Gabe’s pubic hair. His shoulders were raised, tense, and his hand that had gripped Gabe’s cock now squeezed Gabe’s hip, his knuckles were paling.

I knew he’d be fighting his gag reflex. He had Gabe so deep, so far down.

He began to withdraw.

Gabe’s cock came into view, inch-by-inch, saliva-coated and shiny.

Gabe dragged in a deep breath then blew it out slowly.

Brent took hold of Gabe’s shaft again and held it tight. He pumped from the base to the tip several times, pulling on the skin and working his tongue over and into the slit.

Gabe moaned and flexed his hips.

“Ready for more?” Brent asked, looking up at Gabe.

“Yes,” Gabe said. “Absolutely.”

Again, Brent opened his mouth wide. He took Gabe on a fast ride to full-depth.

Gabe gasped and curled his fingers into fists in Brent’s hair.

My hands tingled with a desire to also touch Brent. Feel his hair, the texture of his skin. But I didn’t, I kept them to myself. One arm around Gabe’s waist, the other bunching up a handful of my sundress. I couldn’t interfere, that wasn’t my role here.

Brent was pulling back and sinking deep on Gabe’s cock over and over, his whole body rocking backward and forward.

Gabe was breathing fast, his abdomen was tense and I could feel tremors rippling over his muscles.

“Stop,” Gabe said suddenly. “Please, no more. You’re going to make me come.”

Brent let Gabe’s shaft slip from his mouth. “That’s the idea.”

“Not…like this…I want…I need…”



Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press. Her HOT ICE series 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 Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release in 2012.

Her latest novel, Breathe You In, is a super-sexy romance with a twist that will not only heat you up but stay with you for years to come. Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2013.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set Trilogy available exclusively on Amazon – 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!

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

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

Hockey Romance http://www.hockeyromance.com

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

Hot Ice https://www.facebook.com/hoticeseries


Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Author Pages

Ellora’s Cave Totally Bound

Amazon US Amazon UK ARe Kobo B&N Sony ibooks


Many thanks Lily!

Happy reading,

Kay xx

Tagged , , , ,

Grab My Equipment!!

No Comments
August 21  |  eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Over the years I’ve written over 90 short erotic stories for a vast array of different mixed author anthologies. Three of my kinkiest tales can be found in my mini- e-anthology, Equipment…



To his lust driven delight, Lee Cooper’s opinion that his girlfriend simply doesn’t have the Equipment to take control in the bedroom is quickly and deliciously.

Meanwhile, Kim is sick of her gorgeous neighbour Jack bringing home a non-stop string of unsuitable women to screw, while completely failing to notice the girl right under his nose. Taking extreme measures she sets out to prove she is more than just The Girl Next Door.

Mark’s girlfriend is Searching For Her- the perfect woman to make her lover’s dreams come true. A quest which leads her into the path of more than one willing young lady…


Here’s an little snippet from Equipment to whet the appetite…

The moment I saw his naked arse, I knew that I wanted to fuck it, and I told him so. It was the first time I’d seen Lee Cooper unsure of himself. For a split second a veil of uncertainty, possibly even fear, had crossed his generally ultra-confident square features. It didn’t last though, and he was soon shrugging my statement off with a lad-ish laugh, ‘you ain’t got the equipment baby,’ as he eased his solid cock into my willing body.

I started working part-time at the garage, where Lee is employed as a mechanic, three months ago. The first thing he said to me, as his clear brown eyes appraised my slight frame and red plaited hair was, ‘I’m looking forward to pulling on those pigtails honey.’ From anybody else I wouldn’t have taken a comment like that, but somehow from Lee it was okay. He exuded a sort of sexual confidence, and the instant and silent knowledge that eventually we would fuck radiated from his every pore. It would have been foolish of me to deny that unspoken understanding, and I privately looked forward to the day I’d discover if the tattoos that adorned his muscular arms, extended to his chest and down his legs.

That was three flirtatious months ago, and it had been fun letting the erotic tension build between us, getting more intense as the weeks of inaction ticked by, but finally, Lee’s resolve had broken. He told me, as he hammered an impatient fist on my front door during his lunch hour, that he’d been changing the oil in a beat-up old motorcar, when he’d realised he couldn’t hold on another moment.

After the glorious frisson of the wait, there was always the risk that the reality wouldn’t live up to the expectation. I hadn’t been disappointed however, far from it.

I smiled to myself as Lee dragged his grubby boiler suit back on, and disappeared down my garden path at a run. His words echoed in my head, “You ain’t got the equipment baby.” A wicked twinkle began to shine in my eyes at the prospect of what lay ahead for the unsuspecting mechanic, and speaking across the empty room, I said, ‘Well actually Mr Lee Cooper, I have all the equipment we could possibly need…’

The thought of his tight arse, of claiming it as my own, of taking control of Lee for a while, and perhaps robbing him of a portion of his macho-attitude, grew within me, and I began to lay plans for the temporary domination of this alpha-male.

On Lee’s next visit, predictably the following lunchtime, I embarked on a mission to both enjoy myself, and to lull him into a false sense of security, neither mentioning how delicious I found his backside, nor my eventual intentions for it. As his calloused hands made their way over my naked chest, pinching my nipples with exquisitely painful squeezes, I groaned with genuine pleasure. Stroking the beautifully toned body that pushed against mine, I relished the sight of the tanned multi-tattooed chest I’d so recently discovered.

It was on Lee’s fourth visit that I kept my hands exclusively on his backside. Patting it gently, smoothing it, and caressing it, in a totally non-threatening way, as my new lover pumped himself swiftly in and out of me.

On the fifth visit Lee announced he’d had a dream about tying me up. His face, when I told him that he could do just that, was a picture. I’m not sure if he was more turned on by the fact he could do anything he liked to me, while my hands were secured behind my naked back, or by the feeling of power my helplessness gave him. I suspect the latter. As Lee’s warm tongue explored my stomach, and ducked skilfully between my spread legs, I wallowed submissively in the blissful feelings that engulfed me.

During visit number six, a rare after work encounter, while Lee was both fucking and smacking my arse with stingingly wonderful efficiency, the last few parts of my plan fell into place, and I knew that my need to take his firm neat backside was reaching the point of obsession.

A little over two weeks after Lee had first turned up on my doorstep, I decided the time had come to act. Laying out my sex toys in a neat row near my pillow, I hid them from view with my duvet. Removing the clutter of clothes from the battered old armchair I keep in the corner of my bedroom, I adjusted its position so that it was at the foot of the bed. Then I took off my regular jeans and t-shirt, and put on my tight black Lycra bodice and matching knickers. The caress of the clinging material against my flesh was enough to increase my pulse-rate, and boot-up the arousal I had been so carefully keeping in check.

Lee’s distinctive knock on the door came at almost exactly seven o’clock as we’d arranged. I smiled quietly to myself at his promptness and, wrapping myself in a black silk robe, descended the stairs to collect my unwitting victim.

‘Wow babe,’ his appreciative eyes ran over my robed frame, ‘like the silk.’ He reached forward, and I allowed Lee to engulf me briefly in his arms, his stubble scratching my cheeks as his mouth came to mine. Then, I broke away from his magnetic warmth, holding him at arms length.

‘You like what you see?’ I grinned at Lee, my green eyes reflecting into his brown ones, ‘you want to see more?’…


If you’d like to find out what happens to Lee next, you can buy Equipment from all good e-retailers, including…

All Romance

Amazon UK


Happy reading,

Kay xx

Tagged , , , , ,

Guest Post from Jilly Boyd: Shut Up and Talk – The dawn of the talkie films

August 19  |  eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Today I’m welcoming the lovely Jilly Boyd to my site to tell us all about her love of cinema, and how that passion formed the basis of the latest anthology she has edited- Flappers, Jazz and Valentino.

Over to you Jilly…

Shut Up and Talk – The dawn of the talkie films

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m a huge film buff. I write about films on a near-daily basis, and strongly believe that my best birthday present ever was my black Cineworld Unlimited card.

I keep mentioning that one of the reasons I’m so intrigued by the 20s as an era is the rise of cinema. It was an important decade for the silver screen, which at that point was still such a new thing that an evening of going to the pictures was an event in itself. The first bonafide movie stars made themselves known, and Rudolph Valentino became the first major sex symbol (the man for whom the phrase Latin lover was coined, actually). When he died, a mass hysteria erupted among his female fans, which only added to his status as an icon.

But the biggest step forward in cinema came in the mid-to-late 20s, when studios first started taking steps to commercialize sound in films. Experiments with combining sound and film had been going on almost as long as the medium of film itself, but it was with the release of The Jazz Singer in 1927 that it really took off.

Although the use of synchronized sound in The Jazz Singer was limited (you can only hear when Al Jolson’s character is singing, plus two instances of him ad-libbing speech) it was enough to convince Hollywood that sound was the way to go. For some actors, it meant a step towards silver screen immortality. For others, it meant a slow fade into the background.

Actress Anny Ondra, raised in Prague, saw herself being overdubbed by Joan Barry when Hitchcock’s 1929 film Blackmail was remade with sound. Ondra’s career in British films was effectively over, as the studios did not think her thick accent would fly with audiences. Norma Talmadge, despite her diligent work with voice coaches, found the public losing interest in her as she was deemed an old favourite. She left the film business for good.

These are just two examples of actors who saw their career reduced to nothing because of the sound revolution. But, every down has its up, and film continued to thrive – with its new favourites.

There are a couple of films that deal with actors and the transition to sound films – Singin’ in the Rain accurately shows the kerfuffles productions had with getting the equipment to behave (Lina trying to speak into her microphone and failing several times in a row is still one of my favourite things ever). The Artist, meanwhile, shows the side which actors like Anny Ondra and Norma Talmadge became all too familiar with: the sound revolution causing them to lose their jobs. Both pretty good insights into those first years of sound.

Film continues to be a fascinating medium; as I said, I write about it pretty much daily and I never bore with gaining insight on its past, its present and its future. And because Rudolph Valentino was such a brief but important and lasting part of its past, the story from which I’m sharing an excerpt with you seemed like a perfect fit for this anthology (which has its name in the title – he was THAT important).


Jilly Boyd

Excerpt from The Argentine Tango by Tabitha Kitten

Devoid of natural light, the shop was dim and it took a little while for my eyes to become accustomed to the dark. Dorothy was alone, standing behind the table. She was a spinster in her mid-thirties; a slender, statuesque woman with olive skin and coal-black eyes. I knew her well, often we had chatted when I had been in my aunt’s back yard hanging out washing. And I had seen Dorothy out shopping, always fashionably clothed in her own creations, knee-length, low-waisted dresses that were expertly adorned with beads and tassels, or sashes and bows, or even ostrich and peacock feathers. She had matching cloche hats, wore her black hair in an Eton crop, smoked using a cigarette holder and was forever swinging the beads that were around her neck. So haute couture, at times very theatrical with her speech and manner, she should have been living in London not in a back street in a small, industrial town in the north of England.

“Hello Dorothy,” I said quietly as I closed the door behind me.

“Hello Irene.” Her voice was almost inaudible, a hushed whisper of a sound.

“It was very sad, the news, about Valentino,” I remarked.

Dorothy moved from behind the table to face me. “I grieve for Valentino.”

She was wearing a loose-fitting, box-shaped, flapper dress complete with the intricate embroidery that embellished all her clothes. It gave her an almost boyish, straight silhouette. But, the very noticeable feature was that, today, she had greased back her hair in a style popular with men. I had seen her hair like this before. Once, when she had been attending a party, she had dressed in male attire complete with slicked back hair and monocle to be music hall’s Burlington Bertie. She had a very commanding presence about her and I had felt quite strange inside when I had seen her dressed like that. She had attracted and intrigued me in a way that I wasn’t too sure about – a way that I had never experienced before.

“Valentino was the greatest film star that lived,” she declared dramatically. “When I saw him in The Sheik I thought I would faint at his beauty. And in Blood and Sand where he was a bullfighter, falling in love with Rita Hayworth, that charming seductress who cast her spell over him, oh, how I wanted to be Rita Hayworth … What it must have been like to have been loved by Valentino.”

“They called him the great Latin Lover,” I said simply, whilst staring at Dorothy’s masculine coiffure.

“On the silver screen and in real-life,” she replied as she stood alongside me. “He was such a lover that he’s even been on trial for bigamy. And, so many women fell in love with him when watching his films.” She rubbed my bare arm. “Have you read about his death in the newspapers, Irene? The women, they are distraught about the loss of the world’s greatest lover.”

I nodded. “I read that thousands of his fans lined the streets in New York City. There was an open viewing at the funeral home where people could go to pay their respects. He was laid in state, in a bronze casket on a raised pedestal, and many women fainted or threw themselves on to the coffin. In the streets there was pandemonium and police on horses had to be deployed to keep the calm.”

Dorothy ran her hand gently over my wrist and looked earnestly into my face. “Would you ever throw yourself on to the coffin of the man you loved, Irene?”

Before I could answer, Dorothy raised her hand and tucked one of my finger-waved flapper curls behind my ear. It was an innocent gesture but one which I found slightly unnerving because something wasn’t quite right; Dorothy seemed in a very strange mood. She continued quickly, “Can you imagine the drama, all of those women in hysterics as they mourned, some of his despondent fans attempting suicide, all because of the death of the greatest lover they had only known on the silver screen, the greatest lover they had never had. How many women made love to Valentino when he was on screen, Irene? How many women wanted to be the one in his arms?”

I knew what Dorothy meant. With his dandyish clothing, rakish looks, virile and masculine demeanour, I, too, had been enamoured by Valentino. I was acutely aware of why women swooned over him in darkened cinemas. And why they thought of him in darkened bedrooms.

Dorothy slid her hand down my back and rested it on the curve of my bottom. She stared deep into my eyes, and I felt a slight flush rise to my cheeks as I looked away.

“Do you know, Irene, I will never forget the first time I saw Valentino on screen, the opening scene of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse when he danced the Argentine tango. I looked up at that dark, hot-blooded, handsome star with his smouldering, exotic, good looks and knew that he had stolen my heart. It was etched into my memory for an eternity when he danced the tango. I knew I would never be the same again.”

When I looked up at Dorothy I wondered if they were tears that I saw in her sombre, black eyes. But, she smiled, took my hand and kissed it tenderly. It was a beautiful gesture, her cool lips on my warm skin. Then she threw back her head and demanded, “And what are men in comparison … men, huh, they are so tame, so flat. Where is the passion, tell me Irene, men do not know how to make love to women. All women wish to be seduced by Valentino; that is every woman’s desire. He is so magical on screen, with a burning ardour when he looks deep into your eyes, his lips pressed firmly against yours.” Suddenly, Dorothy pulled me towards her, clutching me tightly. “Imagine me as Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan and you as Lady Diana. This is how seduction should be. Imagine being kissed by Valentino, Irene. Picture in your mind the way he kisses his leading ladies.”

And, she kissed me. Right there, in her shop, Dorothy pressed her lips firmly against mine. When she released me, I gasped. It had lasted only a second but had made my heart race painfully. Seemingly unperturbed, Dorothy lit a cigarette, holding it in the same recognisable manner as Valentino did in his films.

“Have you ever danced the Argentine tango?” she asked me.



Is it not enough to lead my son into wild ways without teaching my daughter the tango? – Dona Luisa, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Step back in time to a decade full of glamour, glitz and decadent sin with this collection of erotica set in the Roaring Twenties. With twelve stories, in all shades from romantic and sensual to burning hot, this collection is the perfect appetizer for a night out at the speakeasy. A journalist gets a sexy introduction to the sinful syncopation of jazz music. A three-way tango performance becomes the steamiest ticket in town. The owners of a speakeasy set up a very special audition for their new trumpet boy. All this jazz and more in Flappers, Jazz and Valentino, edited by Jillian Boyd.

Buy links

Amazon (USA)

Amazon (UK)

Amazon (Canada)

All Romance 


Jillian Boyd is an erotica author and blogger, who has been putting dirty words on paper and on her blog for the past three years. She likes taking everyday, seemingly mundane situations and making them sexy and sensual – and when she’s not doing that, she lets her imagination fly off into history and distant planets. Where she also tries to find everyday situations and make them sexy and sensual.

She’s been published in several House of Erotica anthologies, contributed to Tiffany Reisz’s office supply erotica charity anthology Felt Tips and has a story in the Golden Crown Literary Award-winning Best Lesbian Romance 2014, published by Cleis Press. She is currently working on her first novella, a sci-fi erotic thriller called In Another Life.


Many thanks Jilly!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx


Tagged , , , , ,

Sexy Just Walked Into Town: Brit Babes FREE Extracts Alert!

No Comments
August 16  |  Book Publications, eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s the last day of our peep between the pages of the Brit Babe’s anthology, Sexy Just Walked Into Town!


So far we’ve had a glimpse at the tasty offerings available within this fantastic FREE anthology, from Lily Harlem, Lucy Felthouse, Kd Grace (aka Grace Marshall) Victoria Blisse and myself. Today it’s erotic extracts all the way!!


So sit back, grab your beverage of choice, kick off the shoes, take the phone off the hook, lay back, and enjoy some delicious wordage from the rest of the Brit Babes…



First up- let’s enjoy a little Lexie Bay (aka Ruby Madsen)

Flesh for Fantasy

I can’t concentrate today because I am seeing her tonight. The thought makes my pussy wet. I crave her flesh, the smooth pale curves of her body. She is my obsession, my carefully guarded secret and she is filling my head with filthy thoughts about what I will do to her later.

My boyfriend thinks we are just friends. He doesn’t know how much I yearn to be in her arms, how I ache for the contrast of her soft body as he holds me against his hard muscle. She isn’t his type; he likes his women like me, boyish and skinny with no bum and tits that are only just a handful. Sophia is the opposite of me. My hands glide over her curves, fingers disappearing into the folds of her flesh, always a different place to explore as she moves beneath my touch.

My phone heralds the arrival of a text and I grab it. Please let it be from her. My need to be with her is bordering on insanity and I want to know that she is thinking about our evening together as much as I am.

Hey beautiful, I’m counting the minutes until you get here. I’ve got a treat for you later; I’m going to give you a makeover.

I smile because she wants me as much as I want her. I know this deep down but I hunger for the reassurance her words give me. No one has ever taken the time to woo me with words like she does, no one has taken the time to find out what I like and then turn my fantasies into reality…



I trust that has teased you into wanting to read more! Let’s dip a toe into the words of Tabitha Rayne

Francesca’s Mother

I couldn’t help but stare.

She was perfection in her black bikini, standing in front of me in line for the waterslide. From her heels to her calves, all the way up the back of her thighs to the dip and crease of her buttocks, her legs were flawless. Olive, hair-free skin had me mesmerized. I was now glad of the long queue which previously had me shivering. With all the self assurance of a foreign exchange student, she gracefully lifted her ponytail and tied it in a knot. I swallowed hard as I caught a glimpse of thick dark hair curling under her arms. My heart leapt and I was instantly thrown back to my youth.

Francesca’s mother was my guilty pleasure. I would stay for long weekends at their house and spend the whole time preoccupied by the huge maternal presence that commanded the family home with gentle force. I would find any excuse to go into the kitchen and watch her knead dough on the antique pine table, her braless breasts swinging and gently slapping together beneath a purple smock dress. She was so mighty and strong and, though I couldn’t name it at the time, sensual. When she moved near me I’d inhale her scent. Underneath the rosemary and garlic, there was something else; something musky and dangerous. It at once attracted and repelled me, but I always filled my lungs with the delicious warmth, seeking that hidden perfume.

“Look at this,” Francesca pulled me into her mother’s bedroom one trip home from college. We sprawled on the bed reading Anais Nin and Nancy Friday books until we could gasp and giggle no more. I read the words, becoming more and more physically turned on. I’d had a few ferociously passionate encounters at college and was no stranger to sex, but I sensed these books were exploring something else too. Something more than the physical. They made me want to be with the mighty woman downstairs.

“I’m just going for a drink,” I told Francesca and rolled off the bed, taking care not to show the damp spot forming in my jeans.

When I got to the kitchen, Francesca’s mother was standing over a huge pot of broth on the stove. Thick meaty smells filled the room, and as she lifted her elbow to stir the great vat, a tuft of glossy black curls sprang into view. I was slightly repulsed but my mouth started watering and warmth and moisture spread between my legs. I sat on a stool and pressed my hands onto my mound, rocking my pelvis into my fists while Francesca’s mother stirred the soup. I came in my jeans just as she tapped the drips off the ladle on the side of the pot.

The atmosphere was charged and I was sure I caught her eyes flit across my tiny hard nipples while she swept away wild peppery hair from her brow with her forearm. I lifted my ribcage and stared at her, daring her to look again, but she didn’t. She turned back to the range and opened the oven door. Steam and the odour of fresh baked bread broke the spell and I hopped off the stool and sped back up to Francesca, at once invigorated and ashamed.

And now, at the swimming pool of all places, these feelings had returned. The queue bustled into me and I stumbled slightly into the back of the poised beauty in front. She looked haughtily round and I licked my lips involuntarily at the sight of hers. Full and raw with a dusting of fine hairs on her upper lip. Suddenly I was consumed with want for this woman. I could have grabbed her there and then. I could feel my nipples peaking as she looked at me straight in the eye…



Okay- fanning yourself with a handy newspaper yet? Swapped the cup of tea for a cool drink with plenty of ice? Take a deep breath dear reader- because here comes Natalie Dae (aka Emmy Ellis, Geraldine O’Hara and Sarah Masters)…


I need a woman who wants me to fuck her until she thinks she’s going to fall apart. I need a woman who wants me as much as I want her. I need…her.

In the murk of his bedroom—just a small nightlight glowing on his bedside cabinet—Will stared at the grey, shimmering shape in front of him. He shivered, anticipating its manifestation into the woman who’d visited him nightly for God knew how long. Time was a blur. She had remained a shape at first, then, over the nights that followed, showed herself more and more. He knew why he hadn’t been able to see all of her—she wasn’t real, wasn’t firm enough in his mind for him to bring her into proper focus. In short, he didn’t know what he wanted, wasn’t sure who his perfect partner would be, and he needed to know in order for her to exist. He was nearly there, though. The previous evening she’d almost revealed her whole self, from her naked, hour-glass figure to her long, blue-tinted black hair, but her face was still a mystery.

Nude beneath the sheets, he let out a laboured breath, staring at the foot of his bed and willing her to change. To speak. If she did he’d be lucky. No woman had spoken to him in that way for months. And that was what he wanted—a woman to encourage him out of his shell with filthy words that inspired his cock to harden, had him reciprocating, getting her wet and wanting. Yet he didn’t have the courage to return those words—he knew he wouldn’t, that if a woman approached him and whispered the things he imagined she might, he’d stall, become more introverted. She was a figment of his imagination, nothing more, borne of loneliness and the need to share his life with someone.

How had it come to this…this woman of his dreams plaguing his nights?

He knew only too well. Leading a solitary life was a killer.

There, a sparkle of her outline, an aura that lit her up, then she filled herself in, much like the hour glass she was, the sand growing from the bottom up until she became full. At last, her face was clear, one of staggering beauty that had him realising he’d known her all along in his subconscious. A breeze through his open window fluttered her hair, streaming it out to one side, showcasing a dainty chin and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Startling green eyes seemed to light for a moment before dousing—I imagined that; no one’s eyes glow like that—and she curved her full, rose-pink lips into a slightly parted smile.

Christ, she’s so fucking beautiful…

That was the problem. He’d created a woman who didn’t exist. He’d made her ideal, while he was far from that. He needed to have his hair cut—it had grown long and unkempt since…well, since the other her had been in his life—and he’d allowed his stubble to grow into something more than a speckle of five o’clock shadow.

He wondered if he was going crazy, holed up as he was each evening after work and only going out every so often at weekends. Whether he’d created his perfect woman so he could feel less alone, less of a… failure. Since his last relationship had withered, he’d lacked the self-confidence to go out and find a new lover, someone to laugh with, be with. Someone to sit beside and not have to say a word to. A woman who just knew him. Instead, he’d concentrated on working out, his muscles so defined now, the skin covering them untouched by feminine hands.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice reedy, as though she hadn’t quite been able to completely arrive.

I should be asking her that question…


I feel I shouldn’t be interrupting you now- I’m sure you’d rather I just quickly reminded you where you can get the complete anthology, and left you to read and… umm… stuff, in peace…

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Sexy-Just-Walked-Into-Town-ebook/dp/B00IDAHK16/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1405414552&sr=1-1&keywords=sexy+just+walked+into+town

Amazon UK -http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sexy-Just-Walked-Into-Town-ebook/dp/B00IDAHK16/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1405414459&sr=1-1&keywords=sexy+just+walked+into+town

I’ll just tip toe off, and leave you to it (oh- and I think you’ll find replacement batteries in the top drawer if you need them….)


Happy reading,

Kay xxx


Tagged , ,