Reviews

OUT NOW – TAKE CONTROL

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January 21  |  eBooks, News, Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

I’m delighted to say that my latest anthology is out now!!

Take Control

Blurb

Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.

With four stories from my long lost Oysters and Chocolate archive, and one brand spanking new tale, Take Control is my eighth solo short story collection.

If you’d like to buy this e-book, it is available from Amazon UK, Amazon.com, and all good e-retailers. (It will be also be available for Kobo, Nook and on iTunes in a few weeks time)

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

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Review- Elemental Fire by Kd Grace

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September 21  |  Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

Elemental Fire is the third and final part of Kd Grace’s excellent trilogy, the Lakeland Heatwave Series.

Carrying on four months after the end of Part 2 (Riding the Ether),- the gorgeous Anderson (I just love this character), is still trapped in the ether, the demon Deacon’s menacing presence is looming over everything, and Tara Stone is only just holding her coven together.

Elemental Fire

The world of sex magic is brilliantly bought to life, as Kd Grace entwines us on a journey that is both sexy, intriguing, and at times, spine tinglingly terrifyingly and thrilling.

Elemental Fire introduces us to new characters- including the revenge obsessed Kennet Lucian- who’ll stop at nothing to end Deacon’s reign of terror- including joining forces with a rather delicious fire demon…

I’ll say no more, for I would hate to spoil this excellent series for you.

Once again Kd Grace has produced a work of art encapsulated in the written word. The Lakeland Heatwave Series is a must read.

I’m delighted to have permission from Kd to share an extract from Elemental Fire with you today- are you sitting comfortably…

 

‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t trust him either.’

Tara wasn’t surprised to hear Cassandra’s voice behind her. She didn’t look up from her efforts with the thyme seedlings she was planting on for Fiori’s kitchen and for Sky’s apothecary. The greenhouse was awash in the dry heat scent of the Mediterranean.

‘He’s offered us everything we want, an end to all of our suffering. He’s all but promised Anderson back in our arms. Everything. All tied up in a shiny ribbon,’ Tara said, continuing to work.

Cassandra came to her side and took over preparing the pots for the seedlings. Tara was still amazed at the woman’s natural feel for gardening when she had never touched the earth until she came to Elemental Cottage. Somehow it felt like the young succubus had always been a part of the Elemental Coven, and Tara felt the ache of her loss of Anderson as deeply as she felt her own.

‘If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is,’ Cassandra said. ‘And who in their right mind would make a deal with a demon?’

‘Probably not the question to ask, Cassandra,’ Tara said. ‘You know we all would, in a heartbeat, if it would get us what we want so desperately.’

‘Will you dream with him?’ Cassandra asked, as she handed Tara the last pot.

‘I don’t see that I have much choice, do I?’

‘Is it really that much of a hardship?’

They both turned to find Kennet standing in the door of the greenhouse.

Tara laid aside her dibber and gently touched Cassandra’s hand feeling the welcome buzz of her power. ‘Go and tell the others to prepare the Dream Cave.’

Once she was gone, she turned her attention back to her seedlings.

Kennet moved inside and pulled the door to. ‘I understand you not trusting me,’ he said. ‘I’d feel the same way, I’m sure. But Tara, I’m not the enemy. I need you to believe that.’ He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she stiffened.

Carefully he removed it and turned his attention to stroking the leaves of the thyme plants. ‘You’re afraid,’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

‘Aren’t you?’ She continued to fuss over the seedlings, mostly just to stave off the panic of his nearness.

‘Terrified.’ His answer surprised her.

She turned to face him and as she looked up into his eyes, it suddenly felt like she had looked into the sun.

‘But not for the same reasons you are,’ he said. He crooked a finger under her chin so she couldn’t look away. ‘Why do you make love only with ghosts?’

Everything in her wanted to turn and flee before it was too late, but she stood her ground and held his gaze. ‘It hasn’t ended well for the living when I’ve had sex with them.’

‘Are you afraid it won’t end well for me?’

She didn’t answer. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to speak. There were too many memories too close to the surface, memories she had taken lifetimes to bury deep, and this man had dug them all up in only a few hours.

He took both of her hands, ignoring the compost on her fingers, then brushed a kiss gently across her lips, making her want like she hadn’t allowed herself to want in a very long time. Then he pulled away and brushed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. ‘I’m already dead, Tara. Physically I may not be a ghost, but I’m already dead. Everything that I lived for was taken from me seven years ago.’

She pushed him away. ‘Seven years? Only seven years? You’re not dead yet, Kennet. You haven’t even begun to die. You haven’t had nearly enough years to really beg for death, long for death, pray that it’ll come in the night and set you free.’ She reached for the staging table for support. Her knees were weak, her insides felt like snow on the wind. ‘But then you realize that you’ll be no freer of him dead than you are alive. So no, you’re not dead, Kennet. Don’t even wish for it, and if you think your pet demon will protect you, then you don’t know demons.’

This time he grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her to him with such force that she gasped out loud. He took her mouth with stunning anger, like nothing she’d ever felt before, and she returned his assault with her own rage, meeting his tongue thrust for angry thrust, bruising his lips with the force of mouth and teeth, biting and aching, as he bit back. Then he pulled away breathless. ‘She’s not my pet demon, Tara and, trust me, I fucking know demons.’

Then they were kissing again as though they would tear each other apart, as though they would rip the very breath from each other in angry, scorched shreds. His hands moved to her hips, and he hoisted her onto the staging table, shoving aside the gypsy skirt until she could feel the rough wood against the silk of her panties. He fingered aside the crotch and she tried to squirm away from him. ‘I don’t fuck the living,’ she gasped against his mouth, then she bore down as his thick middle finger found its way between her labia and thrust upward. She pulled him to her even as she tried to push him away with her words.

‘Yes you do, as of this morning you do. You need it, I need it, and it’s time you stopped letting Deacon call the shots.’

She felt his last words like a slap and like an aphrodisiac at the same time, and everything in her felt wet with need. ‘Do it, goddamnit,’ she growled. ‘If you’re gonna do it, do it and don’t make me wait!’ She grabbed for his fly with an awkward grip from a bad angle that caused him to flinch and push her hand aside. ‘Damn it, get them off,’ she gasped, ‘I can’t wait!’

With trembling hands he practically ripped the zipper out of his fly, then shoved his jeans and boxers down around his hip and his erection bounced free from its exquisite nest of copper brown curls. The view was brief, and she told herself in a sliver of a thought that was left to her, that sometime she’d like to linger and explore, though in her heart she didn’t really believe she’d ever be afforded that luxury, so she’d take what he’d give her.

Once again he tore at her panties until they were stretched over one buttock and she could feel the cool air of the greenhouse against her gape, then while she held herself open, he cupped his hands under her arse and lifted her from the table, down onto his heft. With a grunt and a slight thrust, he pressed up into her, and she yielded like soft butter, then gripped like a fist. Then she grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face back to hers, and their tongue dance matched the rhythm of the thrust and glide. Grunts became feral cries, throats became raw, and vision blurred in searing heat that had nothing to do with Lucia.

‘Great Goddess,’ he gasped. ‘If I’m not dead, I’m dying now, and it’s your fault.’

She bit his neck hard and he flinched and surged inside her tight grip. ‘You asked for it, and I don’t believe in making people beg.’

‘I can’t think of a better way to go,’ he grunted.

In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t dying right along with him, but it didn’t really matter, dead or alive, it was pretty much the same to her.

‘Fuck,’ he breathed between barely parted lips. ‘I can’t hold back any longer, woman. I have to come now.’ And as his cock convulsed inside her, and his groin raked upward against her clit, she came in great sobs that made her throat ache, that made her body feel like some animal, curled deep at her centre, had awakened ravenous and needy with an emptiness to fill that was bigger than the void. And strangely enough, Kennet Lucian felt like he might begin to touch the emptiness.

For a long time, he held her there, both of them gasping for breath, her arms and legs wrapped around him, his large hands cupping her bottom. ‘Tara,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘Please trust me.’

She ran a hand through his hair and nipped his ear with her teeth. ‘Then prove to me that I can.’

He had just settled her onto the floor, and they were straightening and tidying when Cassandra knocked on the door and stepped inside. ‘We can’t get to the cave, Tara. There’s flooding. It was only then that Tara noticed it was pouring rain…

****

If you’d like to buy Elemental Fire, or indeed the first two books in the series, Body Temperature and Rising and Riding the Ether, they are all available from all good eBook and paperback retailers, including Amazon-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Elemental-Fire-Lakeland-Heatwave-Series/dp/1908262206/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1378395301&sr=8-2-fkmr0&keywords=elemental+fire+kd+grace

Happy reading,

Kay xxx

 

 

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Review- The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards

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September 17  |  Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

A couple of years ago, I had the great pleasure of reviewing The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards, the very first e-novel published by the erotic e-publishers, OC Press. Now The Pleasure Dial has undergone a revamp with 1001 Nights Press, has a gorgeous new cover- and deserves another review.

Pleasure Dial 2

This rare thing, the comic e-novel, is set in the world of the 1930’s Hollywood- and it is a corker!

The year is 1934, and amiable New York gag writer Artie Plask has taken the West Coast plunge. His first day on staff with a top radio show introduces him to the irresistible Mariel Fenton, a wit among wits who immediately takes an interest in all aspects of Artie’s life—especially his private life. As Artie finds his feet in a world of blustering comedians, pansexual sex goddesses, timid screen legends, exhibitionistic scriptwriters, and self-infatuated geniuses, Mariel leads him on a zany journey up and down the pleasure dial—a giddy romp through Hollywood that’s chock-full of airwaves showdowns, writing-room counterplots, devious impersonations, naked meetings, and a sensuality-drenched assortment of erotic escapades. 

The opening line of the book alone was enough to hook me- it is quite possibly the best opening line I have seen in any erotic story ,“Artie was looking up the skirt of his favourite Macy’s mannequin when he decided to head for the West Coast”… Inspired!

I smiled and giggled all the way through this romp – just as I did the first time I read it- as Mariel leads Artie on a  kinky dance of yummy-ness through a glittering new world of both sexual and career fuelled possibilities.

Fear not however- the humour doesn’t detract from the sensuality of the piece- this tale is toasty!

I have permission from the lovely Jeremy Edwards himself, to share with you a snippet from The Pleasure Dial…and I guarantee it will whet your appetite for a truly enjoyable and sexy read…

****

‘…After the writing session broke up, Mariel continued typing. “We don’t want any loose ends,” she explained. “Do you mind waiting for me?”

“Not at all,” said Artie. “I have to change back into my street clothes anyway.”

“Would you mind waiting to do that, too? I can just see your long, lean torso out of the corner of my eye … and it’s motivating me to work faster.”

When she’d finally returned the portable typewriter to its case, Mariel’s eyes scoured the pool area. “Where’s my feather?” she asked.

“Oh!” said Artie. “Damn, I don’t know. I must have set it down somewhere when Heffy burst in.”

“I don’t see it.”

“No, neither do I. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I have a jewelry box full of them. Why don’t you go change, and we can get out of here.”

Once in the house, Artie took a wrong turn on his way to the bathroom where he’d left his clothes, accidentally heading toward the library instead. He was about to reverse course when he heard a compelling sound from beyond the closed library door: the sound of laughter—lazy, but undeniably sexual, female laughter.

Heeheeheehee … hmm-hmm … oh!-a-heeheeheehee …

He immediately visualized Mariel’s bountiful quill. This would account for its absence—someone was enjoying the gentle bliss of being tickled with it. Precisely where, he could only imagine.

Unless, of course, it was merely Elyse recalling her favorite bits from today’s script session.

HeeHEEh’heeeeee. Oh, yes, Howie, my pussy lips—the feather, the—ooh, yes yes, tickle my pussy, ti-iiiiiiiiiheeheeheehee …

Feather: check. Elyse: check. That was definitely her voice—and Artie thought she was doing a commendable job of improvising, playing a scene that had certainly not been in today’s script.

He automatically slipped a hand into a conveniently located swimsuit pocket.

“What program are we listening to?”

Mariel had tiptoed up behind him, and suddenly her arm was around his waist and her voice in his ear.

He cocked his head. She sidled around him so as to hear better, and he watched the smile broaden on her face as she became oriented to the content of the entertainment.

“Do you think it’s wrong of us to listen?” he whispered.

“Not where Elyse is concerned—and, by extension, anyone she consorts with. She’d love to know we were listening. In fact, I’ll make a note to tell her, later on.”

Her gaze drifted down to Artie’s swim trunks. “You got a head start on me, didn’t you?” She yanked Artie’s hand from the pocket, replacing it with her own—at the same time maneuvering her body behind him, to urge herself against the muscles of his buttocks. His bare feet shifted with lewd, silent ecstasy on the carpet runner.

I bet those lovely titties would like a little feathering too, mmm?

Howard’s voice, a flat monotone in the writing room, had a more liquid, insinuating quality under recreational circumstances.

Oooh-hee, ooh-HEEEE, yes-y-eeeeee … You’re gonna make me c-c—

“Oh, fuck, Artie, I can’t wait.” Mariel spun him around and wedged him up against the wall opposite the library. She’d found the rubber in his other bathing-suit pocket; Artie had decided from the first day in this environment that it would be convenient to keep them in each and every garment.

She sprang his cock out of the trunks with one hand while shoving her panties down with the other, nimbly stepping out of them while raising her skirt. Artie slapped her ass and pulled her tight against his chest, hoping to communicate with her nipples through blazer, blouse, and bra.

With the rubber in place, she was now struggling to mount him—Artie saw that she had not staged the scene felicitously, given their height difference. He loved her assertiveness, but she’d have to practically climb him like a tree to get her cunt around his cock. “Let’s switch places,” he advised.

“Mmmgh,” she agreed.

This was more like it. Mariel braced herself against the wall, while Artie bent at the knees and lifted her by her hot little ass-cheeks.

Though they’d been pacing this as a frenzied sprint, they slowed down as her lubricated flesh inched its way onto him, both parties devotedly silent while each discrete instant of sensation filtered from their junction through their pleasure-response systems.

“You feel as good as she sounds,” Artie whispered when the connection was complete, knowing Mariel would approve of the remark. Sure enough, the comparison seemed to further energize her blazing libido. Taking advantage of the wall at her back and the hands on her ass, she wrapped her legs around Artie’s thighs, steadied herself on his shoulders, and used every ounce of her strength to squeeze her horny cunt up and down his shaft—now bouncing, now lingering, fucking her bottom off while Elyse’s shrieks and giggles reverberated in the background.

A sustained alto wail from Mariel’s lips told Artie she was getting very close. Sure enough, her left hand disappeared from his shoulder and joined the party down south, claiming its mistress’s clit. With her weight fully supported by his arms and his dick ready to explode any second, Artie had an inspiration.

Relying on her rhythm for momentum, he took the few backward steps necessary to cross the hallway, then pivoted in midfuck. “Turn the doorknob,” he muttered urgently. Mariel complied instantly, streaking the knob with girl juice from her clitty finger.

Everything happened at once. The door swung open and Elyse, who was radiantly naked, screamed in climax, her eyes widening with extra delight as she registered her audience. Writhing on the library sofa, she extracted every atom of pleasure from the quill Howard held to her crotch, while Mariel pogo-sticked on Artie’s cock, her endless orgasmic moan almost as loud as the blonde goddess’s scream. Artie pumped and pumped inside the hug of Mariel’s thighs, his buttocks muscles working in double time and his hands holding her bottom cheeks with such passion that he felt her flesh moulding itself around his fingers.

****

I have deliberately not given away anything about the plot here- because I really don’t want to spoil your read- and read it you must!!

The Pleasure Dial is available directly from the 1001 NightsPress in paperback and as an eBook, as well as Amazon UK, US, and all other good Kindle, Nook, and PDF Download suppliers.

Happy Reading,

Kay xx

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Review- Secret Life of Girls by Chloe Thurlow

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September 14  |  Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

Review- Secret Life of Girls by Chloe Thurlow

secret life

Blurb

The Secret Life of Girls is a fictionalized memoir of Bella, an 18-year old girl at finishing school on the English coast. When her father dies, her mother remarries a man who secretly buys the manor house left in trust to Bella to pay off her father’s debts. The betrayal cuts Bella to the core – the house is a part of her. She has nothing left – except she is beautiful, bold and unafraid to use sex to get revenge – as well as for her own pleasure.

Review-

Coming of age erotica has never been this good! Packed with action, Chloe Thurlow draws us along with Bella- not a young woman to be trifled with- who has worked out at a very early age just what a powerful weapon sex can be- and how to use it- particularly against her gullible new step-father, Simon Daviditz…

On the death of her father, Bella is taken to the Convent of Saint Sebastian and the Holy Martyr finishing school, run by some of the least moralistic nuns I’ve ever read about. Oh how I’d like to meet Sister Nuria one day….

Bella has only been in her boarding room for a few moments, when she is being intimately examined by Jack (female), one of her new room mates. This situation could so easily be seen as contrived, or as adding sex for the sake of it, rather than to the furtherance of the story- but this is very much not the case. Clichés are neatly avoided, and every scene within the novel adds to Belle’s complex journey as she learns to use her body- and more importantly- her quick brain- to advance her future, and stay one step ahead of her rival Tabby Van Deegan…

Although I wouldn’t recommend The Secret Life of Girls to first timers to erotica (it plays close to the edge with age limits and incest) – lovers of the genre have to read this refreshingly well crafted book.

****

You can find more information about Chloe Thurlow on her blog- http://chloethurlow.com/

You can buy The Secret Life of Girls from all good book stockists, including-

Amazon UK- Paperback- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Secret-Life-Girls-Chloe-Thurlow/dp/190776190X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377713568&sr=1-1&keywords=the+secret+life+of+girls

Amazon UK- Kindle- http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Secret-Life-Girls-ebook/dp/B008GO4E6I/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1377713568&sr=1-1

Amazon US- Paperback- http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Life-Girls-Chloe-Thurlow/dp/190776190X/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377714099&sr=1-2&keywords=the+secret+life+of+girls

Amazon US- Kindle- http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Life-Girls-Romance-ebook/dp/B008GO4E6I/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-2&qid=1377714099

Happy Reading,

Kay xx

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Get Real: The Art of Love and Belonging by Martha McKinley- A Review

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July 11  |  eBooks, Reviews  |   Kay Jaybee

Set around the world of ceramicist Cassie, artist Marcos, and his life model Tara, Get Real: The Art of Love and Belonging; is the story of a threesome, a marriage and of love. It is Martha McKinley’s first novella for the OCPress.

What can you do when a spicy intimacy with someone you love is tainted by guilt? Cassie tries to assuage her worries by indulging in her affair only when in a threesome, but love grows with every climax. How will the players untangle their lust and emotions? And what does art have to do with it anyway? The answer is: Everything.

Infatuated by the artist Marcos, although uneasy about openly displaying her body, Cassie allows him to persuade her to do some life modelling. In order to calm her nerves, Marcos introduces Cassie to his favourite model, Tara. In the privacy of her own home, some hot and imaginative sex soon follows, and a ménage is set up which looks to last- and to alter the lives of its’ triangular participants forever.

Cassie has fallen for Marco’s big time, but he’s married, and as much as she wants to, Cassie knows she could never live with herself if she broke up his marriage.

Marco’s however, has been unhappy in his home life for some time, and has fallen for Cassie in return. Sending her poems, he longs for her to understand just how badly he wants them to be together. Life however, is never that simple, and if he does go to Cassie, what will happen to his wife Maria? And where does the exotic lesbian model Tara fit into all this? Has her eye fallen on Cassie as well, or is she just in this for the sex? – I’m not saying!!!

Told from the perspectives of all the characters, the only criticism I could make of Get Real is that this makes the story a little disjointed in places- but I must emphasise that this in no way detracts from the story, which has some of the best descriptive scenes I have ever read.

As you would expect from a tale based around the world of three creative souls, the colours of the artist’s palette just leap to life from the page. Not only are colours used, but food is brought into the mix, to produce some truly enticing and mouth watering scenarios. I asked Martha to provide me with her favourite-

It was like baking bran muffins, thought Marcos, smiling, as he methodically arrayed the tubes of oil colors to take an inventory of his needs. Combine a cup of wheat bran with a cup of flour, baking soda,  canola oil, eggs, milk, molasses, and raisins; spoon the mixture into wells of the muffin tin, pop them into the oven, and 30 minutes later, they’re done. Same ingredients each time. Same predictable outcome.                      

Making love with Maria was a recipe he had followed faithfully for nearly two decades: several handfuls of  back stroking in the spoons position, a smattering of kisses,  whisking with oral sex until she moaned in pleasure, and finally, entry with deep penetration, ejaculation, and  body-rubbing in the afterglow to send her off to sleep.

She liked sex that way. It was predictable, and she was able to achieve an orgasm and post-coital relaxation every time.

 He had wanted to try dates and walnuts or cranberries with orange peel, but she liked her muffins with raisins and nothing else.

Maria’s foreplay made no time for role-playing or fantasy. She confessed to having no sensation in her breasts. Her anus was strictly off-limits. And aside from her scalp, which she loved having a hair brush raked through, her only sex organ was her clitoris.  No wonder, justified Marcos to himself, that he sought sensual adventures with other women…

Get Real is a really satisfying read, which will appear to lovers of erotica, romance, and the beauty of the written word. A truly special addition to the OCPress collection.