The Taming: Part 3 of The Pet Shop — FREE!

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I’m very excited to announce another FREE taste of my critically acclaimed novel, The Pet Shop! Alongside the original novel, The Pet Shop is now being offered by Xcite in a limited Kindle edition three-part series. Part Three, The Taming, is now available for FREE for the next five days on Amazon beginning on Wednesday Wednesday, 14 November.  And, since Xcite is only too aware that Pets are addicting, to help feed your addiction for hot kinky romance, Part One, The Gift, and Part Two,  The Secret Life of Pets, are just £.77 each in the UK and $1.19 in the US. Remember, The three-part version of The Pet Shop will get you the same delicious story as the novel, only in three smaller packages to keep you titillated and teased with yummy bite-sized morsels. Enjoy!

(Just a quick reminder. If you’re an early bird on the other side of the Pond, the U.S. link may be available a few hours later than the UK link because of the time change. But be patient, and naughty FREE Pets will swiftly be coming your way)

Here’s a little teaser of what you’ll find in The Taming. Remember, though the download of The Taming is free, it’s anything BUT tame.

Blurb:

Reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston has told Stella James she can have Vincent or she can have Tino, the Pet, but she can’t have both. The problem is Stella wants both. As the complications of wanting both sides of a man who can’t allow himself to be whole mount, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

Excerpt:

‘It’s not bad enough they saddle me with Tino, now I get his female counterpart.’ The familiar handler in his black suit pushed his way in and started tugging at Stella’s clothes. ‘Do I have torture me written across my forehead? Is it bad karma? I swear I don’t know what I did to deserve you two.’

She tried to shove his hands away. ‘Look, I just can’t do this. I was told that once I was out I was out, and I just can’t do this. I want out, alright?’

‘Bullshit! Of course you can do it, and it’s not alright, now get out of your clothes and stop talking or I’ll have to spank your arse, and don’t think I won’t do it. Fuckin’ hell, first Tino, then you, and now both of you. They don’t pay me enough for this.’

Suddenly she stopped fighting him and he continued with the stripping. ‘Did you say Tino? Tino’s with you.’

‘I’m speaking English, aren’t I?’ He gave her a resounding smack across the arse he’d just bared and shoved the trench coat at her. ‘Get into this, and you’d better manage to at least act horny when you get there ‘cause I don’t have time to strap you into the Foreplayer.’ He smacked her bottom again, then wrestled her into the coat and jerked the sash tight. ‘Now give me your keys and let’s go unless you want your arse and Tino’s spanked soundly by your keeper for being late when you get there. Tino might like that just fine. Not sure how your tender little bum would hold up.’

She was trembling so hard by the time she got to the van that the handler had to help her in. He had taken the trench coat and shoved her into the large pet carrier before she realized she was sharing it with Tino, who scooped her to him in a tight embrace, and the delicious scent of the big Pet filled her nostrils and made her cunt clench and her pulse race. But it was Vincent’s smell too. Her nose wouldn’t be fooled this time, no matter how differently the two of them behaved. And the clench in her cunt was followed quickly by an even harder clench in her heart and a knotting in her stomach as she thought of waking up to find him gone. What the fuck kind of game was he playing?

With a growl that sounded too wild to belong to a Pet, she shoved her way out of his arms and elbowed him in the stomach generating enough momentum, even in the confined space, to make him grunt. The look of hurt on his face made her even more angry. How dare he be hurt? She wasn’t the one who ran away, and she’d had about enough of this emotional bate and switch. When he reached for her again, she bit him, hard. He sucked air and flinched. She wasn’t certain, but she thought he might have actually had to wrestle back a curse.

She shoved her way to the far corner of the pet carrier, banging her head on the side as the van driver took off. The handler, who stayed in the back with the pets pounded on the top of the cage, clearly misunderstanding what was going on.

‘Tino, you keep your cock to yourself until I get you there, you hear me? If I see any sign of spunk, or smell it, I’ll tell your keeper to tie that cock of yours in a knot and make you hold your load all weekend, you got that?’

Not if hell freezes over will he find any spunk, at least not any having to do with her, Stella thought.

She could see Tino’s pulse pounding against his throat, and his chest rose and fell like he would hyperventilate. And he was hard. He was always hard, damn him!

She pressed her cheek to the side of the Pet carrier and tried to ignore the way his gaze bore into her, tried to ignore the press of their legs, which was unavoidable in the tight space. And the smell of him. My god, how could she ignore the smell of him? She dreamed of his scent. She masturbated to thoughts of his scent, and here she was trapped with it, and aching for it, and still so furious she could barely breathe. She wanted to yell and scream at him, she wanted to know why, why he had left her. What game he was playing?  Instead she sat with her back pressed as tightly to the slats of the carrier as possible and tried to ignore him.

The next time he reached for her, she slapped him, slapped him hard enough to make her hand sting.

‘What the hell are you two up to?’ The handler rattled the pet carrier again. ‘If I have to drag you both out and wear the spanker out on your bottoms, don’t think I won’t. Now knock it off.’

Stella pulled herself as far into the corner as she could get and tried to ignore the smell of Tino’s arousal, made even more obvious by his erection bobbing against his thigh, the thigh he made no effort to pull out of her space. She shoved at him. But he didn’t budge. She tried to turn her back on him as much as she could, but he pushed in still closer, not allowing her to ignore him.

He kept pushing at her and pushing at her until she kicked at him, which was useless with bare feet in such tight quarters, but he took the opportunity to pounce, nearly upsetting the pet carrier. The handler cursed and uttered a string of threats, most of which Stella didn’t hear because she was fighting to keep from being pinned under Tino.

The van screeched to a halt with both pets being shoved by the momentum to the front of the carrier. Then the carrier door flew open and Tino was wrestled out by the handler and the driver. ‘Goddamn it, I said knock it off!’ The driver held Tino while the handler hooked his collar to a short lead and a pair of hand cuffs that were attached to the wall of the van, then he stormed out of the van and Stella could hear him shouting into his mobile something about all hell breaking loose.

Tino ignored it all, as though nothing else in the world had his attention but her. His gaze was now unreadable, possibly a little more like Vincent, but then how the hell could she tell who he was playing at. The van driver stepped out to have a fag, and she took advantage. ‘You left me, you son of a bitch. You left me without telling me why.’

She swallowed the last word as the door to the van burst open and the handler shoved his way back in to sit down next to Tino. ‘Lucky for you two miscreants the Professor assures me he’ll have no trouble handling misbehaving Pets. I think he rather likes the idea. The thought of you two being soundly disciplined definitely warms the cockles of my heart.’

The driver got back in and the van headed back down the M 25. This time the look on Tino’s face was utterly wounded, a look she couldn’t bare. She closed her eyes fighting back tears.

From Amazon.com

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

From Amazon.co.uk

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

The Sexiest Words — the Relationship Between Poetry and Prose

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I’m so excited to welcome Ashley Lister to A Hopeful Romantic. Ashley’s the man  who would definitely know a thing or two about sexy words — poetry and prose, and I’m delighted that he’s going to share a few carefully chosen sexy words with us!

I’m a word nerd. I love to read words from the page and the screen. I love to savour the sound words make when they caress the ear. I love to appreciate the texture of words on the tongue. I can happily spend and invest and squander hours deciding which word is most appropriate for a specific situation.

Aside from being a writer I also teach creative writing. This means, when I’m not enjoying a day immersed in words whilst I write fiction, I’m having a day with students who are each fostering their own appetites for words.

During my free time I’m sometimes lucky enough to have writing colleagues ask me to blog with them. The superlative K D Grace asked me to visit here to discuss my opinions on the relationship between poetry and prose. I’m sure she picked that topic because she knows it’s close to my heart.

I believe the relationship between poetry and prose is neglected at a writer’s peril.

Even though a lot of my students have a strong desire to write fiction I always make sure I introduce them to poetry early on in my courses. I do this because I sincerely believe poetry leads the way to the sexiest words.

This is not a new opinion.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Back at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the philosopher, critic and poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, “I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry: that is, Prose is words in their best order; Poetry, the best words in the best order.”

I have always agreed with this sentiment. You can call me materialistic but I think there’s not much sexier than experiencing the best. To my mind, introducing the standard of poetry into our prose should make everything we write sublime.

However, not everyone sees poetry in such positive ways. Some writers genuinely fear verse. I’ve seen talented multi-published writers cower from the prospect of producing poetry, convinced that it’s beyond their abilities or unrelated to their desire to write something engaging or entertaining. Perhaps there’s a streak of sadist in me, but I do enjoy watching people tremble as they try to manipulate words from outside their comfort zone. To me, whether I’m writing, teaching, blogging or producing poetry, that’s the seat-of-the-pants thrill of writing.

I was once trusted with the education of a class of computer programmers.

I was trying to teach them the basics of interactive narrative – the mechanics of writing fiction so they would have a better understanding of the dynamics of producing story-led computer games.

It was the challenge of producing poetry that had most of them close to sobbing with confusion and frustration. The reaction first came about during a lesson when we were discussing haiku.

For those of you unfamiliar with the haiku, the haiku is our Western interpretation of a Japanese form of poetry. The traditional Western method of writing haiku is based on a rigid syllable count for a three lined form: 5/7/5. (There are modern interpretations of the haiku, writers such as Jack Kerouac and Ezra Pound are amongst those who’ve taken the simplicity of the haiku and eschewed the rigid limitations of the 5/7/5 syllable count. However, the computer programmers in my class were writing to the restrictions of the traditional form).

I have yet to experience a more entertaining afternoon’s teaching.

I was dealing with a class of students who understood the complex inner-workings of computers. They had reprogrammed social-networking systems. They had written software to programme industry robotics. And they were sitting in my class counting syllables on their fingers and thumbs. They were arguing over the number of syllables in words such as hire, peel and sure.

The poems they went onto produce were good. The stories they went onto write for computer games were surprisingly well-considered. I don’t think they would have achieved such a level of considered work if they hadn’t been thinking about their output from a poetic point of view.

Poetry, I agree, does not work for every writer. Some people enjoy the challenge but others find it too daunting. However, it can’t be denied that poetry gets writers to consider the words they use in ways that are wholly different from the way a writer selects words for prose. And if poetry can get writers to reconsider their word choices, then it’s more than valuable: it’s invaluable.

Ashley Lister

Ashley Lister is one of the regular contributors at the Dead Good Blog (http://deadgoodpoets.blogspot.co.uk/)

The Best Time!

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I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly been waiting for the Best! The Best of Kay Jaybee, that is. And now the waiting is over. The Queen of BDSM herself, is here to tell us all about her new release.

I can’t quite believe how much has happened in the last few months! A new novel (Making Him Wait, Sweetmeats Press), a re-launched book (The Collector, Austin & Macauley), and now The Best of Kay Jaybee is out- A collection of my very own- I can’t quite believe it!!

It’s all SO exciting!!!

The wondrous KD has invited me along today to give you a tasty taster of one of the fourteen stories- here’s the blurb to start with!

Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue). 

****

So which of the fourteen tales do I share with you? A touch of erotic romance, a threesome, some BDSM kink…? Decisions decisions…

How about some museum erotica…Egyptology department I think…

Bastet

Before he got the job behind the scenes at the museum, he had imagined that the place would be dusty, dark and perhaps, considering the contents of the room, eerie. This was not the case.

These carefully collected items had finished their time amongst the dust and now lived in a spotless, sanitised environment. The lighting was just bright enough to be able to work by, yet not bright enough to damage the precious remains. There were only two things that he found mildly uncomfortable about the working conditions; the first was the temperature, a constant tepid, which was too hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. The second was his boss.

He was aware that she often watched him. If they’d worked anywhere else, then perhaps he would have been worried about what their colleagues would think, but here it was just the two of them. Just him, his boss, an open stone sarcophagus, two mummies in the final preparations of being made ready for display, several priceless bronze statutes, some chipped but irreplaceable Canopic jars, and drawer after drawer of miniature Egyptian statues; votive offerings to the Ancient dead.

There was something very cat-like about his senior colleague. She was as tall as he was, slim, but with a hardness about her; she had slick black hair, which swung from side to side as her feline body moved around the room. No, that was wrong, she didn’t move, she slunk, she glided. Her eyes, a brilliant green, were wide, shiny, and always accentuated by heavy black kohl. At first he’d wondered if she used false colour contacts, but had a feeling she probably didn’t. Perhaps she’d always been like this, or maybe ten years amongst Egyptian paraphernalia had turned her into a living representation of the cats that ancient race venerated so highly.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and concentrated on carefully revealing the latest object to be leant to the museum for the forthcoming ‘Ancient Death’ exhibition, before he could head home. A mountain of polystyrene chips quickly removed, he donned a pair of thin medical gloves to pull out the hidden contents of the crate.

As he bent to put his hands carefully around the unknown item, he could feel her behind him. She never made any noise when she moved, but he knew that she was there by the warm breath that now tickled the back of his neck. Ignoring her, and the rather confusing and frustrating semi-aroused state her presence seemed to keep him in, he carefully uncovered the muslin clothes that provided the exhibit’s final layer of protection.

They both gasped in wonder as he revealed the beautiful treasure that lay before them. Carved from wood, its paint faded, but not gone, a death mask stared back at them. He’d never seen anything like it, for it was not the mask of a boy or a man, but of a cat. Human sized, the mask represented the cat goddess, Bastet.

His boss stretched out a thin-gloved hand and stroked the mask with a single finger, before sliding her body in front of his. Audibly holding her breath, she took a firm hold of the artefact with both hands and heaved, releasing it fully from the travelling box. It was perfect. Light but sturdy, its back strap complete, a priceless tribute to a forgotten goddess.

Despite knowing a great deal about Ancient Egypt, but for the fact that cats were sacred to them, he knew few details about their feline obsession. His boss, her chest visibly heaving beneath her black, skin-tight top, began to whisper in awe, half talking to him, half to the mask itself.

‘I’ve seen smaller versions of these in bronze, and I know that wooden cat coffins were regularly made, many hundreds were found at Bubastis, the biggest centre of cat worship, but I’ve never seen …’ Her husky voice trailed off and her eyes sparkled. This object, this rare find was actually turning her on; he could see her nipples poke out and harden beneath her top as she handled the rare find.

Even before she did it, he knew what was going to happen next. He turned so he could watch her as, with an uncharacteristic disregard for preservation, she placed the mask over her head, trapping her sleek hair beneath its wooden strap. Dropping to her knees, she purred around his feet, rubbing her arched back against his legs as if she was a cat showing affection.

His mouth went dry. Common sense told him that the situation was insane, but curiosity and the erection that dug against the side of his trousers, told him that he needed to see what she’d do next.

She stood and, from beneath the mask, commanded him to remain exactly where he was. He didn’t move as she prowled over to the large cupboard at the back of the room.

When she reappeared a few moments later, she was naked but for the mask. Gulping at the sight of the firm flesh about which he’d often fantasized he stared. She seemed to glow as she stalked towards him, her prey, every inch the cat goddess. The living Bastet.

He felt clumsy, unworthy and, at a signal from his boss, he knelt before her, humbled and wanting. It no longer felt mad, just incredibly sexy.

She circled around him three times, muttering words he didn’t understand, his eyes following her, his lips now moist, hungry to feast on this extraordinary figure.

‘Follow,’ she commanded as she walked away from him, towards the large wooden table they used to examine, preserve and analyse the historical artefacts that came their way. He went to stand, but a sharp gesture from her hand made it clear that he was supposed to crawl after her.

This was so new to him; he’d never subjugated himself before a woman, before anyone. It felt strange, suffocating, and belittling, yet at the same time, oddly liberating, as if the pressure of taking control and ensuring the woman’s pleasure had been lifted from his shoulders.

He reached the area of the polished tile floor by the table and waited, subservient. She crouched down and tilted his head up with a single finger so he could observe her. Her bronzed skin shone with a gloss that radiated under the artificial lights. Her hands, their slim fingers topped off with turquoise nail varnish, began to fondle her breasts and caress her torso, stopping short of her neatly trimmed pussy hair, she teased herself as well as her waiting slave.

With an effort, made plain by the whimper the mask failed to hide, she halted her self-stimulation and placed her hands on her hips. ‘Dog, you will serve me.’

Dog? He was a dog? It hadn’t occurred to him, but surely dogs had been powerful gods in Egypt as well, Anubis for example. Then he remembered, even the God of the Dead could not harm a living cat. For a split second he decided he didn’t want to play her bizarre game anymore, but then she changed his mind…

If you fancy finding out what happens next, or seeing what other stories are buried in the e-pages of The Best of Kay Jaybee, then you can buy it on Amazon UK and Amazon US.

Amazon UK–

Amazon US

You can find further details of this anthology, and all my other novels, novellas, and story collections at my web site- www.kayjaybee.me.uk

A huge thank you to KD for inviting me to her superb site!

Kay xxx

 

Read the 30 most titillating books of all time as libraries get in on the Fifty Shades effect with month-long erotic literature festival

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Mail OnlineYour local library is the kind of place you expect to find an ageing gent flicking through a Charles Dickens or hunting for a Henry James.

But the explosion in popularity of erotic novels this year is set to give libraries a real boost when libraries up and down the country launch a month-long celebration of erotic literature.

From next Friday, the Between The Sheets festival will bring 30 of the top titillating titles to 33 libraries nationwide.

Read the entire article at the Mail Online.

November Heats Up!

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The Initiation of Ms Holly a Top Titillater!

November’s off to an exciting start with lots going on. The news of the day is that The Initiation of Ms Holly is number five on the Stellar Libraries’ list of all time titillating novels! Waking up to that good news, published in the Mail Online’s Femail site definitely made my morning.

For those of you who don’t, libraries are turning up the heat this autumn. With the explosion in popularity of erotic novels this year libraries all over the UK are launching a month-long celebration of erotic literature.

From next Friday, the Between the Sheets festival will bring 30 of the top titillating titles to 33 libraries across the country. Watch out libraries, The Initiation is on, and with Holly sharing the shelves with some of my very favourite authors, Justine Elyot, Portia Da Costa and Madeline Moore, and others, you can expect some serious sizzle in the stacks.

Riding the Ether on Tour:

Also in the news, you may not have heard there’s a real heatwave in the Lake District this autumn, as I unleash Riding the Ether, the second novel of my paranormal erotic Lakeland Heatwave Series, now available in eBook and print. I’m very excited that I’ll be touring some truly fabulous blogs with Riding the Ether, starting Monday the 12th. Check out the links and dates below and join the fun and scary, sexy paranormal excitement.

Riding the Ether Blog Tour:

12th Nov: Catriana’s Muse: http://catrianasmuse.blogspot.com/

13th Nov: Nephylim: Out of the Box Fiction: http://nephylim-author.blogspot.co.uk/

14th Nov: Words of Wisdom from the Scarf Princess: http://wowfromthescarfprincess.blogspot.com/

15th Nov: The Tardis Scribbles: http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.com/

16th Nov: Carly Fall: Where Fantasy Meets Romance: http://www.carlyfall.com

Blurb for Riding the Ether:

Cassandra Larkin keeps her ravenous and dangerous sexual appetite secret until she seduces Anderson in the mysterious void of the Ether.  Anderson is the sexy, insatiable ghost who can give her exactly what she needs.

But sex is dangerous in a place like the Ether…

When the treacherous demon, Deacon, discovers the truth about the origin of Cassandra’s powerful lust, he plots to use her sex magic for revenge on Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven, who practice their own brand of sex magic.

Cassandra must embrace the lust and sexuality she fears and learn to use its power. Will she stand with Anderson, Tara, and the Elemental Coven against Deacon’s wrath or suffer the loss of friendship, magic and love?

A little Excerpt to heat up those crisp autumnal nights …

(Warning: not for the faint of heart)

And though Anderson did not remember casting the special enfleshment spell, the one he always cast for himself in the Ether, he was fully in the flesh, albeit flesh that only had substance in the Ether. He was completely naked, and fully, nay, outrageously aroused. The pressure in his groin was both agonizing and exquisite. He reached for his manhood, knowing full well he was in need of wit that he did not possess when his lust was so great. But before he could stroke himself to release, a voice spoke out from the Void. ‘That belongs to me.’

He was not startled that the woman appeared out of nowhere. After all this was the Ether, but he was very startled, if most pleasantly so, that she was as naked as he, and it was no hardship for him to look upon her. Before he could utter even a cry of surprise, she knelt next to him, slapped his hand away and took his member into her mouth.

‘My dear woman,’ he gasped as her tongue snaked up the underside of his manhood. ‘I do not believe we know each other.’

She stopped pleasuring only long enough to reply. ‘We will very soon.’ Then she returned her efforts to his great need.

‘I fear this shall end quickly if you do not stop what you are doing.’ He tried, though only half-heartedly, to push her away. After all what manner of man saw to his own release before the pleasure of his lover?

‘I know you.’ As she spoke, she continued to stimulate him with her hand. ‘It may be over quickly this time, but then,’ she lifted her head enough to brush a quick kiss against his lips, enough for him to catch the tiniest glimpse of dark cinnamon eyes. ‘When it’s over we’ll begin again, and then,’ she gave him a squeeze. ‘Then I’m sure I’ll be well compensated.’

She spoke no more, but took the length of him deep into her throat and tightened her grip until there was nothing for it. He shuddered the weightiness of his release into her throat, and she drank it back like fine brandy. And when she had drained him as surely as if he had been the glass containing her drink of choice, she slipped up next to him, her tight roseate nipples brushing against his ribs. And when she kissed him, he tasted himself on her lovely tongue. This time she kissed him with all of her mouth, nay, with all of her body if that were possible, and he felt lust already returning to his loins.

When she pulled away, he spoke in one breathless sentence, fearful that if he did not find his voice immediately, the lady’s own greed for the pleasures of the flesh might make him forget that he even possessed the power of speech, might make him forget why his voice would even be of importance. ‘My dear woman, might I at least enquire who it is that pleasures me so well and in such unusual circumstances?’

Check back for more November Heat coming soon!