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I Blame Chaucer

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February 14  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

If it hadn’t been for Geoffrey Chaucer, then it is unlikely that we would connect the celebration of St Valentines Day with romance and love.

Brace yourself for a brief history lesson…

Chaucer

In 1382 Chaucer wrote the Parlement of Foules to honour the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia, when they were both only 15 years old. The poem contained the lines…

For this was on seynt Volantynys day, Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

[“For this was on St. Valentine’s Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.”]

Prior to the publication  of Chaucer’s poem, Saint Valentine’s Day had been a religious celebration of a martyr (either Valentine of Rome or Valentine of Terni), and held no romantic links at all. However, writing at a time when romance and courtly love was at its most fashionable, Chaucer’s work quickly caught the public imagination.

Despite February being an unusual month for Chaucer to have written about birds mating, he wasn’t the only medieval author to have positioned such Spring-like antics so early in the year. Three other medieval authors centered their love poems on the allegory of birds mating in connection with St. Valentine’s Day around the same time; Otton de Grandson from Savoy, a knight called Pardo from Valencia, and the English poet John Gower.

Although it is unclear which of these other early Valentine poems came first, they were all widely read, and the connection between St Valentine’s Day on 14th February, and the joys of chivalrous romance strengthened and grew so much, that soon, the martyred saint himself was all but forgotten.

Courtly Love

By the Eighteen century in England, the 14th February had firmly evolved into an occasion when partners express their love for each other by presenting flowers, chocolates, and other gifts.

In the Nineteenth century, the sending of Valentines cards was so popular that they were becoming a mass produced item; especially in America and Europe, where the tradition continues to expand to this day.

I’m not entirely sure that Mr Chaucer would be that pleased with the manner of literature which I have to tempt you with as a Valentine’s treat…or maybe I’m wrong. He wasn’t exactly backwards at coming forwards with his saucy suggestions.  In The Wife of Bath, for example there are many thoughts on the sex- for example-

Telle me also, to what conclusioun
Were membres
maad of generacioun
And of so parfit wys a wright y-wroght?
Trusteth
right wel, they were nat maad for noght.”

OR- to clarify!!!

The argument above is that the genitals must serve some purpose. The Wife goes on to reject the idea that they are only made for urinating and distinguishing between males and females, saying her experience teaches her otherwise. Using the physical evidence apparent on the human body, as well as her own life experience, the Wife separates her argumentative strategy from the more abstract, learned type found in the books of “auctoritees,” or authorities. (Thanks to http://www.shmoop.com/the-wife-of-baths-prologue/sex-quotes.html for that!!)

So perhaps then, there won’t be too many medieval blushes, if I suggest that perhaps you’d like to secretly load your loved one’s Kindle with all manner of kinkiness while he or she isn’t looking….There’s nothing like mutual bedtime reading on Valentine’s Day!

Wednesday on Thursday

Happy Valentine’s Day reading,

Jenny xxx

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Slow Burner of a BDSM Love Story

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February 10  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

I’ve been writing erotica for twelve years now, and over that time I’ve built up something of a reputation for penning tales of the S&M and BDSM persuasion. Never has this reputation been more deserved than with Book One of the trilogy The Perfect Submissive. A book which, I’m proud to say, has received many a rave review, including my all time favourite- “…The Perfect Submissive blows Fifty Shades out of the water...” (c/o Lovehoney.)

 

What you might not expect from The Perfect Submissive Trilogy is that is a love story…a slow burner of a love story…

BlurbHidden behind the Fables Hotels respectable facade, five specially adapted rooms wait; ready to cater for the kinky requirements of its guests.

When Mrs Peters, the mistress of the hotels exclusive entertainment facility, meets the new booking clerk, Jess Sanders, she instantly recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with her unexpected training schedule, the increasingly erotic chill she experiences each time she survives a new level of correction, and a truly sexy exercise routine.

 Temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fable’s top floor by  an enigmatic artist, Mrs Peters begins to plan how she can secure his obedient assistance, in grooming Jess into the perfect submissive…

***

Of all the erotically centred characters I have created over the years, Miss Jess Sanders has to be one of my favourites. Despite her submissive status- or perhaps because of it- her bravery is unending. She has more strength and stamina within her than many of the Doms she encounters, and although she is a figment of my own imagination, I am really very proud of her determination never to fail.

At no point on Jess’s journey from hotel clerk to the resident submissive of the Fables Hotel adult entertainment facility, did she imagine she’d fall in love…and yet she does just that.  Quietly, without fuss, and with a sense of disbelief.

The Perfect Submissive Trilogy takes Jess from Oxfordshire to Scotland, and then on a trial- or should that be trial- back through Britain before she gets to where she wants to be- and to who she wants to be with.

Trilogy Buy Links- (Includes The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat and Knowing Her Place)

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Perfect-Submissive-Boxset-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00T58G69M/ref=zg_bs_4542633031_6

http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Submissive-Boxset-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00T58G69M/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424179485&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=The+Perfect+Submissive+Box+Set+Kay+Jaybee

After The Perfect Submissive Trilogy ends, Jess’s determination is called upon once more in The New Room.

The New Room is a novella length finale that wraps up the Fable’s Hotel story. It’s time for Miss Jess Sanders to have one more erotically demanding adventure- but this time it’s in the name of a love she has finally dared to believe to be true…

Blurb

Miss Jess Sanders, resident submissive of the Fables Hotels adult entertainment floor, has been instructed to test out the new facility that her manageress, Mrs Peters, has designed for the sexual pleasure of her clients.

With a dungeon, Victorian study, medical bay, school room, and the daunting White Room already available for their guests, Jess can’t begin to imagine what lies behind the innocent looking door to the new room.

Under the supervision of the dominatrix, Miss Sarah, and with the assistance of her colleagues, Lee and Sam, as Jess steps into the new room, she quickly discovers she is about to experience far more than she bargained for…at freezing temperatures.

With the feeling that she’s acting in a play that everyone knows the script to but her, the Fables perfect submissive is challenged to the limit in Mrs Peters new room, and beyond…

***

Extract-

…With a shove of her bound hands against the small of her back, Jess was bent forward so that her feet remained flat upon the floor. Her belly and chest were laid across the throne’s cushion, while her forehead rested uncomfortably on the wooden seat next to it.

The volume of the music increased, and Jess wondered if that meant it would soon have to drown out a greater level of background noise.

As Jess’ companion ordered her to close her eyes, a further wave of uncertainty added to the submissive’s anxiety. She didn’t recognise the voice. It didn’t belong to either Max or Lee. This was a stranger.

Even with the cloak hanging over her back, Jess’ flesh felt an oddly clammy chill of foreboding mingle with the cold. As her nipples buffed against the cording that ran around the edge of the throne’s satin cushion, the sole thought hammering in Jess’ head was, Who is this man?

The Fables had no new male member of staff that Jess was aware of. Although it was possible someone had been hired and no one had told her. Wishing she’d thought to ask Mrs Peters if she had permission to speak during the training session, but not wanting to risk her superior’s wrath by assuming she could, Jess clamped her jaw against the need to ask the owner of the fingers that were exploring the curve of her backside with growing confidence, who the hell he was.

Her neck was beginning to stiffen against the hard chair seat. Jess was just wishing the pressure of the cushion against her chest wasn’t so arousing when the anonymous palms abruptly stilled. All but for the thumbs – which continued to work in small sweeping circles, the simple move pushing Jess’ sex addicted body to silently plead for the man to flick up her cloak and thrust himself into her from behind. Now!

The sound of the door opening again made Jess’ breath catch in her throat as she lay over the chairs. Who else had joined them? Jess’ unspoken question was quickly answered, as the imperial voice of the Fables’ fifth floor manageress addressed the man, who was now kneading Jess’ butt cheeks as if they were mounds of dough.

‘I trust Miss Sanders has been obedient for you, Mr Grant?’

‘Oh yes, Mrs Peters.’ Mr Grant’s voice was husky and dripped as much with disbelief as it did lust.

‘Has the girl spoken, asked questions, or hesitated in her obedience to your requests in anyway? Even fractionally? ’

‘Not one word. Not so much as a pause. The girl is as well schooled as you told me she was.’ The tone of Mr Grant’s voice told Jess that he hadn’t expected her to be the submissive her boss had evidently boasted her to be.

‘I only employ the best, Mr Grant.’ Even though she couldn’t see her, the satisfaction in Mrs Peters’ voice warmed Jess a little against the cold. ‘I have to say I’m impressed with what you’ve built for us. This is precisely the grotto I had in mind. Would you like the tip for your services now, or would you like to be a spectator for a while and take your reward for a job well done afterwards?’

Mr Grant’s gulp was clearly audible as his hands rested over Jess’ hips. Instinct sent her butt up towards him.

Hoping that Mrs Peters hadn’t noticed the unauthorised move, Jess squeezed her eyes together tighter, willing her companion to take his reward now. She desperately wanted his cock inside her.

‘As much as I’d like to witness what you’ve planned, Mrs Peters, I have business elsewhere.’ Mr Grant’s voice was getting huskier, and Jess could hear how close he was to coming already. She doubted that he genuinely had other business. It was more likely that he simply wasn’t able to wait to experience the pliability of the submissive’s flesh. The edgy urgency in his voice was something Jess had heard from many a male hotel guest over the past eighteen months.

Mrs Peters nodded, ‘Then you may proceed…’

***

If you enjoyed that, and would like to know what happens next, you can buy The New Room from-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/New-Room-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00SNOB2YI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422098958&sr=8-1&keywords=The+new+Room+kay+jaybee

 http://www.amazon.com/New-Room-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B00SNOB2YI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422099060&sr=8-1&keywords=The+New+Room+kay+jaybee

***

Happy almost Valentine’s Day!

Kay x

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Skewed and Warped!

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January 29  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

To celebrate the release of her brand new novel, Warped, the lovely Marissa Farrar, is giving you the chance to buy the first in her ‘The Mercenary Series’ series, Skewed, for ONLY 99c!

The most powerful mobster in New York wants me dead—trouble is, he’s also my father.

 I’m a woman on the run from the most feared mobster in the country. Worse, he’s my own father. I have my sister to keep safe, and a hot, deadly hit man on my trail. Only one thing to do … see who gets the first shot. But don’t worry about me, I’m no sweet young thing. In fact, I may just be as deadly as the guy who’s out to end me.

Turns out love and hate aren’t so far apart. Can we fight our desire for each other … or will we both end up dead?

Reduced from $3.99 to only $0.99 to celebrate the release of book two, Warped. Don’t miss this sexy thrill-ride through the Mafia underworld—get your copy of Skewed today!

Buy links:

Amazon: getBook.at/Skewed

Nook: http://ow.ly/70i3305LXtE

iBooks:  http://ow.ly/aF2B305LXz2

Kobo: http://ow.ly/daGu305LXFz


Don’t forget- that Warped is out now!!

Warped Blurb

 

 I’m protected by the mob, but for how long once I have testified against my father? Though my heart longs for the man I only ever knew as X, I still have a job to do. Protect my sister and get my father sent down. I might want to see my father behind bars, but I haven’t forgotten the events that led me to this point. Vengeance runs through my veins like blood and I won’t give up so easily.

 But when I think I see X on the street, everything changes. If I believe it is him, it means he never came back for me. I can’t live with the not knowing—is X still alive, and did he ever care for me at all?

 X…

I woke from the incident with a name that is not my own, and only a black hole where my memories used to be. But then I am accosted on the street by a beautiful woman with dark eyes, telling me I’d been sent to kill her. I can’t get her out of my head, and I know I have to find her again. She’ll be my key to unlocking what I’ve lost … as long as we can both stay alive long enough to find out. 

Get the second book is this sexy, heart-racing series. Out now!

Buy links- 

Amazon: getBook.at/Warped

iBooks: http://ow.ly/EjUS308kBjI

Nook: http://ow.ly/zhD9308kBdG

Kobo: http://ow.ly/TOHN308kBqU

Marissa Farrar

Contemporary and Paranormal Romance Author

http://marissa-farrar.blogspot.co.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/marissa.farrar.author/

https://twitter.com/MarissaFarrar

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Chapter One: Digging Deep

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January 17  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

DD ebook

Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in searing hot Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write. Here’s the first chapter of  my erotic romances, Digging Deep , as a special treat on a cold day …

Chapter One

Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.

She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.

Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had quickly been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand, and a job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Ancient Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.

It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. She had longed to experience new exotic sites and see new exotic sights. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.

olive groves

The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.

Flicking her eyes covertly over towards Harrison, Beth averted her attention away from the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what the site’s previous supervisor had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures. “Scalding by day, and freezing by night”. Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being either fried or frozen just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.

Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.

What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night.

It hadn’t taken Beth more than a few hours of digging in the unshaded bath house on her first day to see that a survival technique was required to prevent the elements disrupting her professional judgement. She tried thinking about work, home, rain, and even walks in the snow as she worked, but only one thing successfully diverted her attention from the exposure of her unusually pale flesh to the elements, and that was to allow her mind to fill with erotic scenarios and fantasies, while her hands got on with the job in hand.

This specialised amusement had the benefit of taking her mind off the sun that managed to scald her back even through three layers of thin cotton, and had the added bonus of warming her at night. Lying on her thin camping mattress, Beth would recall all she’d pondered during the day, engendering an ardour between her thighs that her fingers deftly maximised, leaving her physically warmer and bodily sated, and thus making it easier for her to fall asleep.

At first, Beth had been determined that Harrison would not feature in her erotic musings. Her resolve had not lasted long, however, and although she did her best to make the men in her sexy survival scenarios anonymous, the American’s face crept in with increasing frequency.

Manoeuvring a layer of burning sand from one side of her section to the other, Beth considered her colleague. His reputation as an expert in Roman archaeology was renowned. Beth had never dreamt she’d ever meet him, let alone work with him as an equal. His knowledge and academic intellect had been enough to make her heart flutter for years. Yet what Harrison was like in reality was not at all how she’d assumed he’d be.

She’d envisaged him as being chatty, tall, slim, dark-haired, and weather-tanned. He’d probably wear glasses for reading, and be forever clad in T-shirts and large-pocketed shorts as he leapt around excavations like a gazelle.

In fact, she’d hardly heard Harrison’s distinct Colorado accent. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of the group. When he did talk to Beth, he called her “doll,” which made her feel like a lump of mass-produced, animated plastic.

Harrison was about 5 foot 7, not the 6 foot plus she’d pictured, and his spiked hair was a sun-kissed blond and not brown. His build was stocky and muscular, his bare arms and legs permanently gritted with granules of sand, and although he moved with a speed which would have been the envy of any gazelle, he managed to proceed around the site somehow without making a sound.

The problem is, Beth thought as she traced the outline of what she suspected might be a Roman drain gully, I built up an image of him based on a book cover’s black-and-white out of date headshot, and I was way off.

archaeology in sand

She’d been right about Harrison wearing knee-length shorts, though. Everyone on the dig wore such shorts, except for the stick thin, heavy-chested blonde on the American team, who might as well have been wearing knickers her shorts were so scanty. Beth sighed as she looked down at her own attire. A protective covering of baggy clothing shrouded her limbs, and her porcelain neck was hidden beneath spirals of her ginger hair, which glowed as if she’d been hit by radiation rather than African sunlight.

Ryan wasn’t helping either. The most charismatic of her students had been so enthusiastic on his first morning that he’d headed to the site before everybody else, without waiting for Beth to detail where to dig. Consequently, he’d powered through the ground in an alarmingly gung-ho manner, neglected the recording of each strata-graphic layer and, with his six-pack and biceps shining against 120 degrees of sunshine, had crashed his shovel into the corner of a mosaic that had been safely protected by the landscape for hundreds of years, breaking off half-a-dozen exquisitely coloured tessera cubes, and rendering one of the depicted Medusa’s snakes partially headless.

Beth had gone ballistic. To his credit, Ryan had been mortified. He’d begged her not to tell anyone. For the sake of the university’s reputation, not to mention her fear that Harrison would take one look at her careless student, assume she was no good at supervision, and send her home, she had agreed it would be their secret. Ever since, however, Ryan had been driving Beth mad with his attempts to make it up to her at every opportunity.

Only that morning he’d lent so close to Beth as he informed her he was going to make up for his blunder that his soft Welsh tones had vibrated against her skin. His manner was so blatantly suggestive that she hadn’t been able to prevent the inappropriate smile that had very briefly crossed her lips.

Picking up her dustpan and brush, Beth stroked away the grains of sand that sat between her and her judgement as to whether the lines being revealed were part of the bath house drainage system or not. Expertly tracing the changing colours in the freshly uncovered ground, Beth, confident that her theory was correct, and that the ancient shadows of the gully she could see could be followed across the ground with ease, readopted her technique to deviate her attention from the cruel climate, while her fingers worked the earth.

What exactly is Ryan offering? she wondered. A sneaky snog behind the equipment cupboard? A cooling down of my chest with his tongue? Or is he more ambitious than that? Does he imagine me naked, face down, spread-eagled over an empty wheelbarrow with his cock between my legs; or see us together in the shower, washing off the worst of the sand that seems to be permanently stuck to my body while he shoves his dick down my throat?

For goodness’ sake, woman! she chided herself. Beth was surprised to find her chest, whose generous size she’d always loved before, but now heartily wished was small enough to go without the extra layer of material her bra provided, was becoming taut. Cross with herself, she shook her hair out from beneath her hat, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. Having random erotic dreams might be the only thing that keeps you sane in this blast furnace – but you must not consider your students! Get a grip!

Briskly returning to the matter in hand, Beth cut through a layer of denser sand, wishing Ryan wasn’t working the section directly behind her. She daren’t turn to check he was all right like she did her other students. The last time she’d done so, she had caught him ogling her butt with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, which couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than the type of lustful intentions her own imagination had just so colourfully displayed to her. Ever since then, she had been more than a little self-conscious of the stretch of her cotton combats over her backside.

Crouching on her haunches, letting her eyes roam across the site as a whole, Beth struck Ryan from her mind, and began weighing up the significance of what she was excavating in relation to what else was opening up on the dig before her. As she leant in closer, a glitter of something just below the upper level of the sand caught her eye. Trailing her brush across the yellow surface, she mentally listed all the hidden things that might shine: mosaic tesserae, jewellery, votive offerings to the gods …

With a sharp scream, Beth stumbled backwards out of her square in a mad scramble to escape. Her find was none of the things archaeologists dream of uncovering. In the haste to get away, her left foot caught on the guide string that divided her metre section from the next. Tripping, she fell heavily backwards.

Flushed with an embarrassment that enflamed her already pinkened features, Beth found herself being scooped onto Ryan’s lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Alerted by the unexpected shriek, the other students in the immediate vicinity began to gather round. Most of them, however, backed away the moment they saw what had caused Beth’s unusual lack of professionalism; except for the leggy American, who looked at Ryan in disgust, pointedly rolled her eyes at Beth, and returned to her work.

Beth didn’t have time to think about the blonde’s unsympathetic reaction. All her attention was on the bronze snake which hadn’t appreciated its home being disturbed by an inquisitive human. She was convinced it was staring straight at her, its tongue flicking, smelling the air around it in an accusatory manner.

Her initial shock subsiding, and abruptly sensible of where she was, and how it must appear to see one of the supervisors in the embrace of a student, Beth scrambled shakily to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was more mortified by her public reaction to the snake, or by the fact that her body felt more than a little content at being cradled so protectively in Ryan’s arms so recently after her erotic ruminations had headed in his direction. ‘I’m sorry, everyone! That was a bit of a shock. I’m not good with snakes.’

‘Don’t worry about it, boss.’ Ryan ran a consoling hand down Beth’s cotton-covered arm, creating small prickles of uninvited lust that appeared on top of the prickles of fear already there, and sending them both tripping towards her crotch.

Rueing her kinky imagination, Beth took another step away from her student. Moving rather too fast, she collided with the stocky frame of Harrison Harris. He’d crossed the site on his ever-silent feet to see what all the fuss was about without her even noticing, causing Beth to jump out of her skin for a second time. ‘Honestly. Harrison, don’t you ever make a sound when you move?’

‘Hardly ever!’ He treated her to one of his Colorado smiles, making Beth suspect that he was privately laughing at her. ‘You OK, doll?’

Not stopping to waste her breath on asking him for the umpteenth time not to call her “doll”, Beth did her best to ignore the twinkle in Harrison’s eye that confirmed he found the situation hilarious, and settled for being grateful that he hadn’t vocalised his mirth in front of their charges.

‘I’m fine. The snake took me by surprise.’

Beth had no doubt this little episode would be site folklore by dinner time. She didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, and was always one of the first to laugh when she made a fool of herself, but now she found her face darkening with embarrassment in the face of her colleague.

‘Is that all?’ Harrison bent down and retrieved the brush Beth had abandoned in her hurry to move away from the snake. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Just shock. I don’t like snakes. I haven’t damaged anything, I hope.’

‘No harm done.’ Harrison shot Ryan a look which plainly said “this time”, making Beth wonder if the timing of the breaking of the mosaic had gone unnoticed after all. ‘Here you go, doll.’ He gestured to the creature. ‘He’s just a sand snake. Won’t do you any harm. I’ll move him somewhere safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Beth’s words came out rather weakly as the unfortunate creature was picked up and repositioned against a dune of previously excavated sand, into which it quickly disappeared. Seeing Harrison rehome the creature with no more fuss than if he’d moved a worm from a flower bed to a vegetable patch made Beth even more cross with herself for being so feeble in front of a man she’d so badly wanted to impress. She found herself babbling in explanation, ‘Insects I have no problem with. Spiders are cool. But snakes … I can’t stand them.’

This time Harrison did laugh openly, wiping one of his calloused palms across his forehead, smearing dirt into his spiky hair and knocking back his faded Stetson in the process. ‘You’re a regular Indiana Jones, doll!’

Indie

Keen to keep the general atmosphere light, Beth added, ‘Well. As long as I don’t get chased by any oversized boulders or attacked by a tribe of pygmies with blowpipes then I guess I can live with the comparison!’

Taking a hefty swig from her water bottle, she smiled, relieved that her ability to laugh at herself was finally reasserting itself after days of being diminished by the heat.

Harrison grinned as he strolled to his side of the dig. ‘Gotta love that dry English sense of humour, doll.’

Beth called after him, ‘Thanks for the snake removal, Harry.’

He kept walking as he corrected her. ‘Harrison. It’s Harrison, I told you. I don’t like being called Harry.’

She shouted at his retreating back, ‘And I don’t like being referred to as a doll. It makes me sound like a character in an American B-movie! Message received?’

Still laughing, Harrison didn’t look round, but held up a hand as if in defeat. ‘Gotcha, doll! Message received.’

Stepping back into her square, Beth looked at her watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making it feel as if someone was systematically pouring paint stripper across her shoulders. She could hear her students chatting happily as they worked. All except for Ryan, who was unusually quiet.

Beth sighed as she recalled Harrison’s glare towards Ryan, and realised it wasn’t just her rationale she’d left in the colder climate of home, but her common sense as well. It was time to come clean about how Ryan had messed up the mosaic and, more importantly, why she hadn’t reported the incident straight away.

Her decision made, Beth’s hands returned to working the ground, while her imagination speculated how it might have felt if Harrison had been the one she’d accidently sat on. Would I have wanted to get up quite so quickly? Her pussy twitched as if in confirmation, as her green eyes studied the Roman drain …

Digging Deep is available as a download or a paperback from all good retailers, including-

Amazon US link- http://www.amazon.com/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654446&sr=8-1&keywords=digging+deep+kay+jaybee

Amazon UK link- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654789&sr=8-1

Happy reading!!

Kay xx

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How it Began: Not Her Type

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January 12  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

For the next 7 days my extra kinky erotic romance,

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man,

is on special offer for only 99c/99p via Kindle!!

To celebrate I’ve decided to share with you something – Last week I was having a long overdue clear out of my writing cupboard, when I found the  notebook in which I first scribbled the idea for my naughty delivery man story. (Yes- I do have awful handwriting)

First seeing life as a serial called Going Against Type, and then as the novella, Not Her Type , this story was born after hearing many of the erotic (and often downright pornographic), fantasies and confessions from the delivery men who visit my home, delivering work related packages for my ‘real’ job.

Such is the nature of the courier’s tight schedule, that any lust he or she might have the opportunity to release during the course of the day, will have to be very swiftly delivered indeed.

Blurb

When Jenny’s regular delivery man, John, reveals that she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.

One unexpected, head-swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again – and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend it didn’t happen?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There’s only one problem: John really, really isn’t Jenny’s type…

***

deliveryJenny, the customer who becomes the centre of every sexual fantasy her courier, John has, discovers very early on that no matter how much she looks forward to her lusty encounters with her fuck-me handsome lover- it’s rarely going to last more than five minutes!

Here’s a mini taster for you – thankfully, not in my handwriting!

…Jenny had been ready for an hour. Dressed as per his request. Black jeans, black low-cut shirt, black bra, black knickers.

A rare text from John late the night before had warned her that even compared to normal, they wouldn’t have long. But then, we never had long.

He was already speaking as he came into the house, his tone hectoring, “No time to explain. I have a stupidly large new van and company. A new assistant to train. He’s practicing parking. We’ve got two minutes until he manages to get the truck into a space. Then he’ll be knocking on the door.”

Jenny’s mouth opened to argue, to say that two minutes was impossible, but she didn’t have the chance to say anything as she was driven to her knees with the order, “Suck my cock.”

In the back of Jenny’s mind, the countdown began….

***

If you are a connoisseur of the daytime quickie- then perhaps a courier is the man or woman for you…

Buy links… ONLY 99p/c as a KINDLE until 18th Jan

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

Happy reading everyone!!

Kay xxx

 

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