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Sanjida Kay

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Sanjida Kay: A Prolific Author of Romance and Thrillers


Full Name and Common Aliases


Sanjida Kay is a British author known for her prolific output in various genres, including romance, thrillers, and children's books. Her real name is Sanjida O'Connell.

Birth and Death Dates


Born on December 9, 1948, there is no publicly available information about her death date. As of my knowledge cutoff, she is still alive.

Nationality and Profession(s)


Sanjida Kay is a British author of various genres, including romance, thrillers, and children's books. Her writing career spans over three decades, with numerous titles published worldwide.

Early Life and Background


Born in England to an English mother and a Bangladeshi father, Sanjida O'Connell was exposed to diverse cultural influences from a young age. This unique blend of cultures would later find its way into her writing, adding depth and richness to her stories. Growing up in a family that valued education, she developed a love for reading and writing at an early age.

Major Accomplishments


Sanjida Kay's impressive body of work includes over 70 novels across various genres. Her most notable titles include The Family Secret, The House on Half Moon Street, and The Stranger in the Mirror. She has also written several children's books, showcasing her versatility as an author.

Notable Works or Actions


In addition to her novels, Sanjida Kay has co-authored several non-fiction titles with her husband, Philip O'Connell. Her writing spans multiple genres, making her one of the most prolific authors in the UK. She is also known for her engaging and suspenseful storytelling style, which has captivated readers worldwide.

Impact and Legacy


Sanjida Kay's impact on literature cannot be overstated. With a career spanning over three decades, she has left an indelible mark on the world of romance and thrillers. Her writing has been translated into several languages, reaching readers across cultures and continents. As a testament to her enduring popularity, many of her titles continue to be bestsellers in their respective genres.

Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered


Sanjida Kay's unique blend of cultural influences, engaging storytelling style, and versatility as an author have contributed significantly to her widespread recognition. Her commitment to crafting compelling narratives that captivate readers has made her one of the most beloved authors of our time. As a result, her quotes and opinions are often sought after by literary enthusiasts and readers alike.

Sanjida Kay's remarkable career serves as a testament to the power of imagination and creativity. Through her writing, she continues to inspire new generations of readers and aspiring authors. Her legacy will undoubtedly endure for years to come, cementing her place among the most celebrated authors of our time.

Quotes by Sanjida Kay

Sanjida Kay's insights on:

She realized that she no longer believed her husband: it was as if the certainty that he’d betrayed her had settled into her bones like the chill of a damp day.
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She realized that she no longer believed her husband: it was as if the certainty that he’d betrayed her had settled into her bones like the chill of a damp day.
I doubt you are a martyr, but should you decide to risk your own life, I can assure you that, as well as killing you, I will hunt down your family and I will kill them, and then I will find your friends and I will kill them too.
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I doubt you are a martyr, but should you decide to risk your own life, I can assure you that, as well as killing you, I will hunt down your family and I will kill them, and then I will find your friends and I will kill them too.
I walk over to see what it is: it’s a paperweight with a dandelion clock perfectly preserved inside. I hold it in my hand. It’s smooth and heavy. It would be just right for my husband. I can imagine it sitting on his desk: a single, solitary objet d’art in the midst of that smooth expanse of wood. As I pay for it, I start to blush, a blush that grows stronger and deeper, flaring over my chest and making my ears burn. I’m buying a present for my husband while I’m with my lover.
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I walk over to see what it is: it’s a paperweight with a dandelion clock perfectly preserved inside. I hold it in my hand. It’s smooth and heavy. It would be just right for my husband. I can imagine it sitting on his desk: a single, solitary objet d’art in the midst of that smooth expanse of wood. As I pay for it, I start to blush, a blush that grows stronger and deeper, flaring over my chest and making my ears burn. I’m buying a present for my husband while I’m with my lover.
His eyes, staring out at her from the photograph, looked – she searched for another word to describe them and failed – he looked evil. There was a blankness to him, as if the normal human emotions that you took for granted in everyone you met had been excised. It was the kind of stare you might see in a wolf or a shark; a creature who did not care how kind you were, what your story was, the dreams you had for your child.
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His eyes, staring out at her from the photograph, looked – she searched for another word to describe them and failed – he looked evil. There was a blankness to him, as if the normal human emotions that you took for granted in everyone you met had been excised. It was the kind of stare you might see in a wolf or a shark; a creature who did not care how kind you were, what your story was, the dreams you had for your child.
I wonder if that is what he really feels; if he’s accidentally hit on the words that will set off small explosions in my mind – trigger- phrases like risk and safety, danger and security, love and loss, and the other ones, the ones that I never say.
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I wonder if that is what he really feels; if he’s accidentally hit on the words that will set off small explosions in my mind – trigger- phrases like risk and safety, danger and security, love and loss, and the other ones, the ones that I never say.
It’s as if we’ve stepped into a Constable painting, a bucolic vision of England. There’s a single oak ahead of us in the heart of the valley; the grass is lime-green and the steep sides of the Cotswold escarpment are covered in dense woodland.
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It’s as if we’ve stepped into a Constable painting, a bucolic vision of England. There’s a single oak ahead of us in the heart of the valley; the grass is lime-green and the steep sides of the Cotswold escarpment are covered in dense woodland.
I go downstairs to my bedroom and get out my diary from where I’ve hidden it in the wardrobe under my jumpers. I write, ‘My mother has a secret.
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I go downstairs to my bedroom and get out my diary from where I’ve hidden it in the wardrobe under my jumpers. I write, ‘My mother has a secret.
I sure as hell don’t want to be dragged round a mansion by an over-excited single parent downloading bollocks about the Victorians on 4G.
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I sure as hell don’t want to be dragged round a mansion by an over-excited single parent downloading bollocks about the Victorians on 4G.
What’s going to happen when they find out what they’re really like? And they have to spend the rest of their lives married to each other?
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What’s going to happen when they find out what they’re really like? And they have to spend the rest of their lives married to each other?
He would do his best, but his best would not be good enough. It would never be good enough to repair the hole that would open in her child’s heart.
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He would do his best, but his best would not be good enough. It would never be good enough to repair the hole that would open in her child’s heart.
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