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My First Time: Jillian Boyd

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April 6  |  Interview, News  |   Kay Jaybee

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…

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?

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.

***

iBookstoreCover

Buy links

Inked: Sexy Tales of Tattoo Eroticahttp://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01CXBRFEM/?tag=sexylittlewords-21

Licked (as editor) –

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Licked-Rob-Rosen-ebook/dp/B018Y8NCCC/ref=sr_1_10?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1458472239&sr=1-10&keywords=Licked%3A+Oral+Sex+Erotica

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

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From Punished to Making Him Wait, via The Circus…

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April 2  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

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 Circus - new- bigger

 

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…

Making-Him-Wait-Cover

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!

Punished

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

 

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A Special Kind of Freedom: Writing Erotica

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March 28  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

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!!

lead me not into temptaation

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?

boundaires

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

A Little Taste of Yes Ma’am: Military Style…

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March 25  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s time for a spot of Fem Dom action today- so it’s time to say Yes Ma’am- plus a free read…

 Yes Ma'am 2015

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…

britbabes_kink_hotnraunchy_4

 

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.

MFF

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-

Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Yes-Maam-female-domination-ebook/dp/B008H4JHVO/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1376072456&sr=1-6&keywords=yes+ma%27am

Amazon US- http://www.amazon.com/Yes-Maam-female-domination-ebook/dp/B008H4JHVO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376072566&sr=8-1&keywords=Yes+maam+kay+jaybee

Remember to keep a cool drink handy when you’re reading this book- HOT!!!

Happy reading

Kay xx

 

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FREE READ: Quick Kink One- The Shirt

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March 19  |  eBooks, News  |   Kay Jaybee

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…

qk1

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...

This is the black shirt that inspired this story…

Shutting 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.

Sexy - hands on back

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!

Best of KJB

Buy links-

Quick Kink 1

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Quick-Kink-One-bite-sized-submission-ebook/dp/B008GU4372/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1418723015&sr=1-1&keywords=Quick+Kink+one

http://www.amazon.com/Quick-Kink-One-bite-sized-submission-ebook/dp/B008GU4372/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1418723162&sr=8-1&keywords=Quick+Kink+One+Kay+Jaybee

The Best of Kay Jaybee

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Best-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B009YYRM3Q/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352239489&sr=1-2

http://www.amazon.com/Best-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B009YYRM3Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352239753&sr=1-1&keywords=best+of+kay+jaybee

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

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