Category Archives: News

In Training Fit for a Re-Launch

Happy Day After Valentine’s Day, my Lovelies! New Years Resolutions have either become new habits or fallen by the wayside by now, and everyone needs a little inspiration now and again, so it seems like the perfect time to re-launch my novella, In Training. This novella originally appeared in the British Bad Boy Box Set a year and a half ago, and I’m now very happy to be launching it as a stand-alone. It’s a comedy of errors, steamy romance, fitness-based romp at it’s sweatiest. And no New Years resolution is ever required to enjoy someone else’s sweaty workout.

If you know anything about me you know that I’m a fitness junkie, with or without any resolution. But let’s face it, not everyone is all that fond of getting sweaty anyplace other than between the sheets. Our heroine, Lauren Michaels, certainly isn’t a fan. You can well imagine she is not best pleased when she finds herself the guinea pig in her own PR stunt. She may be the PR guru for fitness firm, Physicality, Inc, but that doesn’t mean she wants to walk the talk, especially not when bad boy personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, is the one who will be whipping her into shape. Enjoy the little excerpt.

 

In Training Blurb:

Getting fit on reality TV is PR guru, Lauren Michaels’, brainchild for gym equipment and fitness company Physicality, Inc. The brilliant PR stunt involves one brave volunteer who wants to be fit badly enough to submit to the not so tender training techniques of personal trainer, Wolf Jennings, whose successful, but non-conventional, methods would make a drill sergeant look like a fluff ball. But when CEO and owner of Physicality, Inc., Claire Amos, decides her PR ace in the hole needs to walk the walk, Lauren finds herself between a kettle bell and a hard place… er, a hard trainer. That’s nightmare enough, but for six weeks, 24/7, the explosive chemistry between the two will be sweated out live on camera for the whole world to see. What could possibly go wrong?

 

In Training Excerpt:

Claire’s phone blared out Flight of the Valkyries over Jennings’ barked instructions to his tortured clients. “Speaking of the devil,” she said, nodding to Jennings’ arse on the screen as she answered her device. “Wolf, darling! Lauren and I were just talking about you. Watching your lovely video, actually. On our way over.” She winked at Lauren, whose stomach suddenly felt like it was in freefall. “Here, sweetie, let me put you on speaker so I can introduce you two,” she said just as the Wolf Jennings on the screen yelled for his people to clench those glutes and zip those abs.

And suddenly it was like that slow-motion scene in a horror film, just before the pretty young innocent is shredded by Freddy Krueger or pursued by the monster from the fetid swamp. Wolf Jennings turned to gaze at the camera from beneath hooded eyelids that revealed familiar blue eyes. He offered a smile that was damn near erotic. Then he said in a very northern accent, “If you do your part, I guarantee I’ll get you there.”

As the clip ended and Misty and Del were once again on camera, Lauren sat frozen to the spot, just like all those poor women in the films. She didn’t scream, though she felt like it. Instead she managed in a shaky voice, “I can’t work with him.”

“I can’t work with her.” The response on the other end of the phone was simultaneous. The familiar voice was honey and heat and frustration. Then he continued, sounding at least as breathless as he had on his video, as he had when he got up close and personal with her in the garden behind the pub. “There’s been some mistake, Claire. I can’t work with her. We can’t work together.”

The smile on her boss’s face slipped just a fraction. “Why ever not, Wolf? You two are perfect together. Not only is Lauren comfortable on camera, but she’s horribly unfit.” Before either of them could respond, she continued, “I need my PR ace in the hole fighting fit, and right now I doubt if she could fight her way out of a paper bag.”

“Oh, yes, I could.” Fuck, Lauren sounded like a kid at the Christmas pantomime.

“Didn’t look like you could on the stairs,” Claire responded. She turned her attention back to Jennings. “Obese couch potatoes or under-muscled, out-of-shape career women, unfit is unfit, Wolf.”

“I’m not really that unfit.” Lauren barely got the words out before they both said in unison,

“Yes you are.”

A part of her wanted to crawl under the seat in her embarrassment while the other part wanted to punch Wolf Jennings right in his smug gob. Instead she snarled between her teeth, “You lied to me, Jennings.”

“I lied to you?” His voice became a hushed growl. “How do you figure that? If anything, you lied to me.”

“As I recall you’re the one who sat down right next to me and wheedled your way in. I didn’t ask for your company.” She leaned closer to Claire’s iPhone, which the woman obligingly held up for her, with a bemused shrug. “I didn’t even know who the hell you were, or you’d have been wearing your Sneck Lifter.”

“Did you two have sex?” Claire Amos seldom pulled punches.

“We didn’t,” Lauren said.

“We would have,” Wolf said.

“Would not,” she responded.

“Oh, and that’s why you grabbed for the condom, was it? You couldn’t even wait to get to a room.”

“You had me pushed up against the garden wall. I wouldn’t have come near you if I’d known that you were Wolf fucking Jennings.” She grabbed Claire’s phone away and all but yelled into it. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to. I’m not one of your fucking gym bunnies.”

“Clearly,” he spat back.

Lauren felt the chill of doom crawl up her spine as Claire took the phone from her hand. The smile on her face was back, this time with a good dose of scheming behind it. “Let me get this straight, the two of you ran into each other in a pub?”

“Yes.”

“And one thing led to another and you got touchy-feely.”

“Yes.”

“Mind telling me why you didn’t do the deed?”

“You sent me the fucking file with Lauren Michaels’ image front and centre,” Wolf managed. Even on the phone, Lauren could tell he was struggling as much for control as she was. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”

“Well you must not have been too into each other if you let a little text file stop the action.”

“I didn’t check it intentionally.” He sounded offended. “The phone fell out of my jacket and the message popped up with Lauren’s name and photo.”

Claire actually giggled. “I won’t even ask which of your explosive cardio moves you were trying on Lauren that made your phone fall out of your pocket.”

Kay Jaybee Talks Trolley Kink with the Release of Making Him Wait Now Out

 

 

I’m delighted to be here, on the brilliant blog of my dear friend, KD Grace, as part of my blog tour for my artistically kinky BDSM romance novel, Making Him Wait.

 

Blurb

Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas. But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge.

Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. However, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out.

At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted.

Will Maddie’s models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time? The only way to find out is to wait and see…and the waiting only makes it sweeter!

***

 

As the blurb suggests, Maddie Templeton, self control freak, dominatrix, and professional sexual confidence booster, has been offered the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to exhibit her work in a London gallery. There is only one problem; the only space the gallery can offer her means the art for exhibiting has to be gathered together in double-quick time- and that means calling in a lot of favours, and keeping the fascinating Theo Hunter at arm’s length so Maddie can concentrate on her artwork.

 

Against her better judgement, and with time against her, Maddie finds herself asking for modelling help from her manipulative ex-girlfriend, Tania.

It isn’t long however, before Tania’s high handed manner gets too much, and Maddie decides to teach her a lesson- via her artist’s trolley…and if she can use the situation to arouse make Theo’s wait for her more interesting, then all the better..

…Taking a deep breath and with a bend of her knees, Tania jumped so that she was sitting on top of the trolley. Edging
herself along in reverse, she positioned the small of her back in the very centre of cold metal tray. Slowly, so she didn’t wedge her shoulders against the hand rails that ran along the long sides of the trolley, Tania lay so her legs hung over one end and her head and neck hung over the other, her loose hair sweeping the floor.

Forcing herself to relax as much as possible, Tanis threaded her arms carefully through the side rails, letting them swing freely; trying not to think about how vulnerable she had allowed herself to become.

Secretly impressed at how easily Tania had got into position, and resisting the temptation to take a photograph for Theo there and then, Maddie gathered up some silk cord. Her face giving away nothing of her rising excitement, Maddie knelt by Tania’s left side, picked up her wrist, bent her arm at the elbow and wrapped the cord in a figure of eight around her limb and around the nearest trolley leg.

Rather than get up and move, Maddie took hold of the trolley and wheeled it in a sharp circle, causing Tania to forget all about her promise to be quiet. She yelped in surprise, her stomach churning over and her hair dusting the floor like a brush.

Ignoring her ex’s shocked protests, but noting mentally that she had now broken the no noise rule, Maddie tied Tania’s right arm in place before twisting the trolley twice more and securing her ankles to the remaining metal legs in a similar fashion.

The moment she was satisfied that Tania was unable to undo her fastenings simply by tugging at them, Maddie picked up her mobile.

Theo had evidently become impatient again.

Theo: The wait better be worth it

She didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she lined up her phone’s camera with the trolley, getting as much of Tania in the shot as possible, took a picture and sent the resulting image to Theo.

For once Maddie was not assailed by the urge to stop and paint the situation she’d orchestrated. This was not about obtaining a representation that would last forever. This was the creation of a personal antidote to all the times Tania had ordered her around – a way of working off the aggravation that had raced to the surface since her erstwhile girlfriend had re-crossed the threshold of her home.

At the back of her mind, Maddie’s determination to rid herself of the feeling that she was losing her touch spurred her on. If Theo wasn’t happy to hang on his fish hook and wait like all the men that had gone before him, then she needed to toughen up and raise her game – and fast.

Theo: OMG!!! What u going to do to her?Making Him Wait

Maddie: Wait and see

Tania tried to turn her neck to see what Maddie was doing. Never had she felt so exposed, yet the dull thud that was spreading through her trapped muscles wasn’t preventing a giddy yearning for Maddie to make her next move.

Ever since she had received Maddie’s answer phone message asking her to come and help with the exhibition, Tania had harboured faint hopes about resuming her life with the artist. Her body had wanted to take Maddie the instant she’d seen her open the front door. Yet this was a new Maddie, and the redhead had slowly come to the realisation that she was not the only one who wanted her. Whoever it was Maddie kept texting had to be a rival, and if Tania had one rule, it was never to lose to a rival, even if it was one you didn’t know and couldn’t see.

With a purposeful resolve, Tania wove her fingers around the slim metal legs of the trolley, bit her lips together, and decided to take whatever was thrown at her. She would prove to Maddie that she was the strongest woman she’d ever met, and in the process, convince her ex that life would be much more interesting with her in it again, permanently.

Dismissing the temptation to use a selection of sex toys from her eclectic collection, Maddie grabbed a thin cushion from the sofa and, standing between Tania’s widened legs, ordered, “Raise your hips.”

After some awkward wriggling, Tania managed to push against her bindings enough to lift her backside an inch or two; successfully holding the position long enough for Maddie to push the pillow beneath her bottom – effectively making her pussy an easier target for whatever the artist wished to do with it.

Switching the phone to its vibrate function, Maddie placed it in the centre of Tania’s flat stomach. Resting her bare legs against the insides of her prisoner’s open thighs, Maddie then reached forward, cupping and moulding the entirety of each breast in her palms. An illicit whistle of bliss issued from between Tania’s clenched lips and Maddie added the extra noise to her mental score chart.

Absent mindedly rotating her left palm over the tip of Tania’s left breast, Maddie began to text Theo, every press of the screen pushing against the gym-toned stomach.

Maddie: I am playing with her nipples

Then, as if to prove her point, Maddie flashed off a quick photo and sent it hurrying after the text. Replacing the phone over Tania’s neat oval naval, the artist turned her attention to the supine right breast, this time flicking at it with her tongue, feeling it grow within her mouth, savouring its rough texture compared to the perfect smoothness of the rest of Tania’s chest. A whimper of satisfaction slipped from Tania’s lips.

Maddie’s eyes narrowed. “You keep making noises you have not asked permission to make.” She slapped each of Tania’s trussed thighs burningly hard in punishment, leaving a merging collection of hand sized blotches on the fake-tanned flesh. Tania howled with a pain that reflected gratification in her wide peppermint eyes.

The buzz of the phone as Theo replied sent shock waves through Tania’s torso and thighs as the handset juddered, making her whine anew at the unexpected vibration.

Theo: Spank them. If it was u on that trolley, I would spank ur tits

Mindful that she couldn’t leave Tania with her head hanging down for too much longer, Maddie steered her tethered passenger towards the bed. Lining up the trolley against the foot of the bed, Maddie gently raised Tania’s head and neck and rested them on the duvet.

Maddie: What else would u do if it was me on the trolley?…

 

***

Inspired by a photograph I once saw of a woman shackled to a hostess trolley, I had a great deal of giving Tania gets a taste of her own medicine. If you want to discover why Tania deserved such treatment in the first place, and what happens next, then you can buy Making Him Wait from all good retailers, including…

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline/dp/1910908231/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1515681168&sr=8-1&keywords=Making+Him+Wait+Kay+Jaybee

 

Amazon.com – https://www.amazon.com/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline/dp/1910908231/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1515682172&sr=8-1&keywords=Making+Him+Wait+Kay+Jaybee

 

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/making-him-wait-4

 

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/making-him-wait-kay-jaybee/1127821931?ean=9781910908228

 

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/making-him-wait/id1336576037?mt=11

 

 

Many thanks Kd,

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxx

 

About Kay Jaybee

Kay Jaybee was awarded Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the Erotic Trade Associations

Kay Jaybee has over 150 publications to her name, including the novels Making Him Wait, (Sinful Press, second edition, 2018), and The Fifth Floor – The Perfect Submissive Book One (KJ Books, third edition, 2017). She has also written the novellas Wednesday on Thursday (KJ Books, 2017), Take Control (1001Nights Press, 2014), Digging Deep, (Xcite Press, 20153), A Sticky Situation (Xcite Press, 2013), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2014). She has written the anthologies The Collector (KJBooks, 2016), and A Kink a Day Books 1-3 (available via the Radish reading app).

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook -http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk

New Release: Dancing with Myself: Stories of Self-Love Erotica

 

 

Edited by Jillian Boyd

Nine sizzling, sexy stories of self-love and self-discovery, edited by (and with a story from) Jillian Boyd, featuring Dena Hankins, T.C. Mill, Jordan Monroe, Leandra Vane, LN Bey, Jones, Hollis Queens and Rachel Woe.

 

In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just hone in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh… oh my” Dancing with Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.

 

Dancing with Myself Buy Links Here: 

books2read.com/dancing

 

 

Table of contents

Obey – Dena Hankins

The pose didn’t strain her body. It just made her feel so damn vulnerable. Maddie wished she’d thought this through more. The pictures she’d studied hadn’t given her a clue how the poses would make her feel.

 

The Solution – TC Mill

I wondered if Dom had ever worried about me, all the nights I’d been out late. Maybe he’d been glad to have his space, just as I was glad to have mine on those evenings he claimed to have meetings or buddies waiting for him at some bar. Once I figured out where he’d really been going, I claimed more than space. I took pleasure, I took control. That was what it felt like at the time, at least.

 

Investigation – Jordan Monroe

As Tara answered him, she sat still with her hands in her lap. She was struck by the intimacy of this interview. They were perfect strangers, and yet he was asking her questions that would not be asked on a date. It was rather revealing, and she was surprised that she found herself enjoying the process.

 

5A – Jillian Boyd

It took me a moment to adjust to the sudden flash of brightness in the lobby, the motion lights having switched themselves on after I opened the main doorway to my block of flats. But after I’d blinked my eyes back to normal, I became very, very aware of the little pink sticky note stuck to my mailbox. Pink note, red ink, message that left me with a red-hot, full body blush in a matter of seconds.

 

Half the Story – Leandra Vane

He held himself firm and it felt like returning home. The weight of his world vanished and he could just be himself. Desire was Nick’s biggest secret and he always kept it on lock down.

Nick started pumping himself into his fist with sure, steady strokes. He imagined Lauren was on top of him, straddling him on the chair, her jeans tight over her thighs and her pussy kept from him by a thin but unfortunate layer of denim. That didn’t stop her from grinding into him and shoving her tits in his face. They bounced to the rhythm Nick was stroking himself, faster and faster. He looked down the front of her shirt, his imagination straining to catch a glimpse of the darkened areolas around her pebbled nipples. But the tiny tank top held everything in despite Nick’s most desperate yearnings.

 

Girl B – LN Bey

All week she woke up picturing herself as the new girl, kneeling beside Angie, naked and awaiting Trey’s orders as he towered above them. Lying in bed on her back, her fingers would grasp her own hips as she lay there; begin to edge inward.

No.

She ran, farther and faster each day, and did nothing in the shower but scrub the grime and sweat from her skin.

 

Fawna – Jones

In the dreams, there are so many more flowers. Hundreds of them all over her. Their green touch creeping up her body and wrapping around her legs, holding her down so that the flowers can explore her more deeply, rub themselves against her sex and past her lips, petals folding neatly over her clit. Orchids, like small mirrors held up to her open vulva, embrace her. Clots of frothing white snapdragon blossoms press against her like a thousand little mouths over her ass and hips, and breasts. Tight white knots of lilies slid against her cunt, almost penetrating, leaving their dust on her thighs and lips.

And now here they are, alive, in her hands, under her fingers.

 

Reconnection – Hollis Queens

Laura Linx’s email is waiting for her when she’s finished with the dicks. They had met on a community chat board when Laura had first gotten into the business. Bleu had taken the new member under her wing and taught her how to deal with rude customers, how to check token statistics to see who was worth spending energy on and even how to set up her camming business as an LLC. In a way, Bleu still does social work. Only instead of making a crap salary, she’s pulling over five times what the state job had offered her after she graduated. She tries to share this information with as many women as she can, but not all of them listen. Some are only in it for the quick cash. Some can’t take the grueling schedule, lack of days off and the consistent rudeness which wears cam girls down over time. The online community of cammers acts as a safe haven, protection again the dangers and loneliness that come with participating in such exposed yet reclusive work.

 

Unconventional Methods – Rachel Woe

Figs. Oysters. Chili peppers. Of all the alleged aphrodisiacs, nothing makes me want to slide my hand between my thighs more than good old-fashioned anticipation.

 

I check the clock again. 10:55 pm, the equivalent of 3:55 am London-time. Daniel’s time. He likes to joke that he’s Merry Olde England, and I’m new—as in New England. American. Peanut butter and Twinkies to his Marmite and spotted dick.

 

Being a food blogger has a way of seeping into other corners of my life. To be fair, I am hungry. Ravenous, in fact. But not for cakes or condiments. My body reacts to the ping of the chat notification like a dog to a dinner bell. My mouth literally waters. I listen for the glide of my mother’s legs across the sheets in the next room, the restless flipping of covers. The prolonged silence tells me she’s fallen into the stupor offered by her sleeping pills. I plant myself in front of my laptop, wireless earbuds firmly in place.

 

There’s only one word in the chat box: Ready?

 

Arousal blooms low in my belly, soft petals unfurling. I type, Yes, Sir, and hit enter.

 

About Jillian Boyd

Jillian Boyd is a writer and anthology editor, based in London. She has previously edited anthologies about the Roaring Twenties, spies and oral sex, which are just some of her many interests in life.

 

 

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37854540-dancing-with-myself

The Lady with the Hair & the Sunglasses. What the Hell does She Want from Me?

As you know by now, encounters with Magda Gardener, though never invited and quite often disturbing, have been a part of my life for the past five years now. I work for her. Whether I like to admit it or not, I’m as much a part of her collection as Alonso Darlington and Jack Graves. The role I play, however, is not nearly so dangerous, but it’s every bit as demanding. The thing is with Magda Gardener, I never know when she’s going to show up and check in on me. But whenever she does, she always leaves me a little wrong-footed and with a story to tell.

 

With the release of Buried Pleasures, the third Medusa’s Consortium novel, and the first set in Vegas, I’m reminded again of an encounter I had with her awhile ago while on holiday in the Lake District with my husband.

 

 

Somehow I suspect that the situation isn’t normal. I suspect that I’m either dreaming or having some sort of weird out of body experience, but for the life of me, I don’t know how, or when I decided to take this brief holiday from the flesh, or even if that’s what it really is.

 

But I go on about my business like everything is normal, nothing out of the ordinary. And in truth, I’ve often gone to the Twa Dogs Pub in Keswick and ordered a pint. But this time I’ve come alone, which is something I’ve never done before, and I know when I see her sitting at a table in the back of the snooker room that she’s waiting for me. It’s late afternoon, an overcast day, typical Lakeland weather, and yet she’s still wearing sunglasses. But then she was wearing sunglasses that night in Vegas, even in the tunnels.

 

I sit down across from her and she looks me up and down. Though I can’t see her eyes, I can certainly feel her gaze, like she’s looking right through me, like I’m sitting there naked. I resist the urge to fold my arms across my chest, and she gives a little smirk as though she knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

 

My throat’s desert-dry, and I take a good solid sip of my Sneck Lifter and wonder at the wisdom of alcohol on an empty stomach. ‘What do you want from me?’ I ask.

 

I can see a golden eyebrow raise above the edge of the glasses. ‘I should have thought that would be obvious. You’re a writer, aren’t you?’

 

‘So? I reply.

 

 

But before I can say anything else, I catch a flash of bright eyes over the edge of the glasses and feel as though I’m suddenly glued to the chair unable to move. ‘You’re a storyteller, that’s what you do. You get into peoples’ heads and tell their secrets.’

 

‘It’s fiction. I make it up,’ I manage. My throat is no longer just dry, but it feels as though it’s constricting, closing, strangling me as I speak.

 

‘I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself,’ she says. My pulse ratchets up in panic, and I feel like my body is closing in on me, turning into a solid prison from which there is no escape. And just when I think I’ll hyperventilate, she offers me a quirk of a smile, and lowers her eyes to her own drink – whiskey, I observe. ‘Where do you think those stories come from?’ she asks.

 

‘I make them up, they come from my imagination, like they do with all writers.’

 

This time she throws back her head and laughs out loud, and I’m stunned by the bell-like sound of it. I’m even more stunned that no one notices. The pub’s not crowded, but it’s not empty either. How could anyone not notice her sitting there. She’s exquisite in a scary sort of way, and yet no one seems to be aware that we’re even there. I remind myself that it’s still quite likely I’m only dreaming.

 

Then she leans across the table and takes my hand in hers, and as frightened as I was only a moment ago, I suddenly find myself wanting to kiss her. Another indication that none of this is real, I tell myself.

 

‘Who do you think gives you those stories, Ms. Grace?’ Her breath is sweet against my face, like an open field with just a hint of the single malt whiskey she’s been sipping. ‘Oh, I have so many stories I want you to tell, and you’re perfect for the job, darling, because you are so open to going where I want you to go.’ And then she stands, leans over the table and kisses me.

 

For a split second I have sense enough to worry about what the rest of the people in the pub will think of the girl-girl lip-lock in which I find myself. A split second more and I realize no one even notices. ‘You,’ she whispers against my mouth, ‘have been writing stories for me for a long time.’ She pulls away just enough to look at me over the top of her glasses, and I suddenly feel as though my very heart is freezing solid in my chest. ‘‘I figure it’s time you know what I expect of you. Things are about to get complicated Ms. Grace, and you are about to become a very, very busy woman.’

 

 

 

 

She kisses me again, and I feel like the floor to the pub has just caved in beneath me. Behind my closed eyes, I see familiar flashes of a ritual in a mirrored room, couples having sex all around me, candles on an altar, a mirror that contains a monster, a ghost who has been hung for a murder she didn’t commit, a succubus devouring thought and ego and giving it back in exchange for the blood of a vampire. Death walking in Vegas, enthralled by a siren, whose voice can calm or kill. I see, in strobe-like flashes of light, an exquisite woman in a ruined garden walking among statues, statues that look so lifelike and so disturbing in their poses that I feel goose flesh climb my spine. That same woman walking the endless halls of a library filled from ceiling to floor with books bound in the flesh of the stories they contain, shelf after shelf of books, stories I’ve written, written at this woman’s command. And as she touches each of those books in turn, I realize the stories I’ve written give her power over the people in those pages, and she, in turn, gives me power to write the next story, and the next and the next.

 

Then suddenly I’m back in the Twa Dogs with her voice a soft vibration low in my chest. ‘You work for me, K D. You always have. You just didn’t know it,’ she whispers against my ear. Then she inspects me with another brief glance over the top of her dark glasses and brushes my icy cheek with her warm palm. ‘I thought it was time you knew the truth. That knowledge could serve you well in the near future.’

 

And when she removes her hand, when I can no longer glimpse the bright glint of her eyes behind her glasses, I fall with a jerk back into my chair, like I’ve had one of those falling dreams. I open my eyes to find my husband staring at me across the table. ‘You alright?’ He asks.

 

I nod, for a moment unable to place where I am.

 

‘You want another pint of Sneck Lifter?’ He nods at my empty glass. ‘You sucked that one back in nothing flat.’

 

A crack of a cue against a ball on the snooker table and a half-laughed curse in a soft Cumbrian lilt and the world comes back into focus. I am indeed in the Twa Dogs, and my husband and I have come to the Lake District on a holiday. As he heads to the bar for another pint, I rub my eyes and breathe deeply while the world around me comes back into focus.

 

‘I think you dozed off there for a minute, Sweetie,’ he says when he settles back across from me, raising his pint in salute. ‘Were you dreaming?’

 

I nod and gulp back a hefty drink from my pint. ‘Must have been.’

 

‘You look a little pale. Her again?’ he asks.

 

I only nod my response, my eyes locked on the half empty shot glass sitting on the table next to ours, rimmed in icy pink lipstick. ‘She says I work for her.’

 

‘Yeah? Did she give her name,’ he asks.

 

‘No.’ It surprises me to find how relieved I am that she didn’t, and yet, as I sip my beer and stare over at the whiskey glass, I’m sure I already know her name. I’ve known it for a long time. I just never expected to meet her in person. And I certainly never expected to work for her.

 

 

 

 

Don’t Forget In The Flesh, book 1 of Medusa’s Consortium

is on sale through January for 99c/p

January Sales and Kindle Unlimited

January is such a dreary month here in the UK, but one good thing about it is the January sales. Are you surprised? You know me well enough by now to know what a hermit and a curmudgeon I am. I’d rather have my eyebrows shaved and my kneecaps sanded rather than go shopping in a crowd. It’s all wasted on me. Well … almost all of it. I am in absolute heaven when January sales come around and those sales happen to involve books. Oh the ecstasy! And what better to spend a dreary January day than curled up with a hot cup of your fave and a good book.

 

Yup, January sales can result in escapism at its finest. If I can’t be in the warm sunshine somewhere, at least I can read about someone else who is. And even if the characters in my book of choice are not in the warm sunshine, I can still partake of their adventures vicariously from the safety of a comfy recliner. I’m convinced books are the last truly great escape. Whether I’m writing one or reading one, what happens between me and a book is an intimate thing, and it’s different for every person who reads that book. Books are the original interactive experience, just the book, the reader and her imagination. Absolute heaven. So here’s some news to brighten your January.

 

In The Flesh is only 99 p/c through the end of January

 

 

 

 

Of course I have ulterior motives. I want to seduce all of you Medusa’s Consortium virgins and get you hooked on the series. Book three, Buried Pleasures, is just now out and takes the tale of Magda Gardener and her Consortium on to Vegas. So of course I want to get you there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In The Flesh is now available on Kindle Unlimited

 

 

 

What’s that I hear? You don’t want to pay 99 p/c when you can get books from the Kindle Unlimited library to read for FREE? Well you’re in luck then, because In The Flesh is now available on Kindle Unlimited for your reading pleasure.

 

 

 

 

In The Flesh: Book one in the Medusa’s Consortium series 

 

(Click Here for Book Two | Book Three)

 

Blurb:

 

When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

 

 

So cheer up this January! Read and be happy. And to tease and titillate you just a little bit, here is an all-new excerpt from In The Flesh. Enjoy.

 

 

In The Flesh Excerpt – Orgy of Death & the Capture of a Demon:

 

And we did. We slept, or at least I thought I slept. I thought I dreamed. I thought surely it must be Talia’s doing. I drifted for a long time, aware of the foreign presence inside me, aware that it was only Magda’s talisman that kept just enough of me safe and focused. Without it I would be easily taken over by that presence.

 

It was the champagne bubble effervescence coursing over my entire body that roused me from deep sleep to the place almost of waking, but not quite. The feel of a feather touch raised the fine hairs on my forearms, up my spine, on the back of my neck, goose fleshing the tops of my breasts and tightening my nipples to points.

 

“I’m here now, my darling girl. Don’t be afraid. It will hurt but a little, and then you will feel nothing but pleasure.”

 

I felt myself being lifted, cradled like a child in strong, hard arms. Then I inhaled the cold wild scent of the high fells and below it earth, solid and warmed by moss and fallen leaves, and I could have wept with relief, even as fear shot along all my nerve endings.

 

“Scribe, why is the vampire here with us?” The Guardian’s voice was more curious than upset.

 

“We’re dreaming,” I mumbled. “A dream brought on by our self-pleasure, no doubt.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Perhaps you don’t crave the flesh of a vampire, but I assure you, we mortals do.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because vampires have what we don’t—eternal life.”

 

“But they are dead,” He said.

 

“We mortals don’t see them that way. To us they’re powerful, beautiful, because they symbolize lust and virility, and we fantasize about being taken by them.”

 

There was a soft chuckle next to my ear and cool fingers against my bare nape, pushing my hair aside. “I did not know,” the Guardian said. “It seems very real.”

 

“Powerful dreams always do. Sometimes when we’re in them, it’s very difficult to tell if they’re real or not.”

 

 

“Then how do you know that this dream is not real?”

 

“A vampire would have no more use for you than you do for him,” I replied. “And it was he who sent me here, remember?”

 

“Of course.” The Guardian didn’t question my logic further, for which I was grateful.

 

“We shall begin now, my darling girl,” came the voice next to my ear. “You have only to let me take you, and when I am finished, when I have emptied you completely and hold your life force within me, then I shall give it back to you, only changed.”

 

“Is this not the vampire from High View, scribe—the one who grovels before Magda Gardener?”

 

I felt a vibration against my neck that might have been a growl, might have been a purr. “It is, yes.”

 

“And you find him attractive?”

 

“It’s a dream,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Careful, my darling girl, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

 

“I suppose he’s comely enough,” The Guardian observed. “A pity his flesh is not living. I might enjoy inhabiting such a fine, strong body.”

 

“Good heavens, He is irritating, isn’t He?” Alonso’s voice was soft against my ear and with a start, I realized the Guardian couldn’t hear what Alonso said to me.

 

“He’s dreaming, Susan. You, however, are not. You must tell me now if you do not wish me to continue, for once I have tasted you, especially in your lust and your vulnerability, there will be no turning back, and I do not wish for you to despise me for what I have done.”

 

With an effort that seemed colossal, I slid my arm around his neck, amazed at how soft and dark his hair was. As I pulled him to me, he stayed my efforts, but only for a moment. He kissed my cheek then held my gaze, only for a second longer, and his eyes were darker than midnight. Then he lowered his mouth to my nape, to the vein pulsing like a driving drum beat. His lips were deliciously warm, and it came as a surprise when he ran the flat of his tongue along the length of the vein, pressing, lapping like a cat tasting milk, then pressing again with the tip as though he were probing for just the right spot.

 

The intake of his breath was like the sigh of a summer breeze. He kissed me once, on the spot where my pulse beat the strongest, and then again.

 

My hand in his hair tightened to a fist. I caught my breath and held it, waiting in his embrace. It was a sharp pain, precise and doubled—just two pinpoints of pain, like a surgeon’s twin incision against the side of my throat. I had barely time to notice it before blinding pain took my breath away. The world flashed white hot around me and I panicked and began to struggle, but he held me tightly.

 

As the skin gave beneath his bite, as I felt my blood flooding to his lips, I heard his voice inside my head. “That is the worst of it done, my darling girl. Now you need only relax and let me take you.”

 

 

“Ouch!” came the other voice in my head, reminding me I wasn’t alone with Alonso and surprising me how badly I suddenly wanted to be. “That was not pleasant. Susan, are dreams usually so physical?”

 

“Talia, can you not silence him?” Alonso spoke inside my head again and, for the first time, I noticed the succubus sat at my feet, gently stroking my ankle.

 

She said nothing, but the Guardian gave a soft moan of contentment, or rather I did, but I knew it was His. And for the first time since He had deceived His way into my life, I was relieved that He was silent, that He couldn’t touch me, even though I felt the fullness of Him pressing gently against the inside of my chest. I needed Him to sleep and to leave me alone for a little while longer. It was with that thought I realized I was clinging to Alonso’s strong, well muscled frame and I wanted him like I had never wanted before. Christ! I wanted him to devour me, to take me completely into himself. I had never imagined it would be like this. Somehow I’d thought it would be more macabre, more solemn.

 

I would have writhed if I could have. I would have pulled him closer, but I was lost, drowning in the swift flowing river of my blood that he drew into his mouth in deep, thirsty gulps. That I couldn’t move, that my body was completely held in thrall to the flow of my own blood into his mouth mattered less than the fact that he fed from me, an act so powerful, so incredibly intimate, that I felt shy, awkward.

 

“It is all right that you feel this way, my darling Susan, for so we all feel at our making.” He spoke as though he’d read my thoughts, though in truth what I experienced was far too primal to actually be thoughts. “There is no act more intimate, no connection deeper than the taking and giving of blood. What I take now is meant to give me life, to give me your life, but only so I may give you back my own. In this act, we shall both find pleasure, and you will be more than my familiar. You will be the child of my own heart’s blood.”

 

There was a sudden thrashing behind my breastbone. Though I knew it wasn’t physical, it was no less real.

 

“Susan, you have deceived me. I shall punish you very severely for this duplicity. Do you really think a dead creature can keep me from what is mine?”

 

The Guardian’s voice was not raised, but in it was an edge of disquiet I’d not heard before. “For your impertinence, vampire, I shall take your succubus and use her long and hard, even if she does reek of your death.”

 

“You can try.” The voice that responded was different, and in my groggy, giddy state, a blurred apparition of Magda Gardener pushed aside the makeshift curtain that separated the mattress from the rest of the area. Even with her glasses still in place, her hair seemed to writhe and dance around her face, as though it lived and breathed anger and fury. “I won’t hesitate to turn the scribe and the vampire if that’s what it takes, and well you know this.”

 

I felt as though my whole body jerked and struggled around the still point at which Alonso’s mouth pressed against my vein, but in truth I had not physically moved. I was incapable of movement, completely enthralled by the ebb and flow of my blood and the kiss and bite of the vampire at my throat.

 

“That won’t be necessary, Magda,” Talia said, still caressing my ankle and my calf. “We’ve got this.”

 

“You shall all suffer for this deception!” The words came from Talia’s throat, but the Guardian spoke them from inside my body.

 

“Oh, I doubt it,” the succubus managed in the next breath, her grip secure on my leg.