Good news

I'm very pleased to at last be able to share some news I've been sitting on for a while.

I've signed a contract for Reckless Liaisons with Black Lyon (and yes, it's a Regency!). My first full-length novel in over two years has found itself a home, and is tentatively due on the shelves (in paperback and ebook) in March, 2009. I am thrilled to be part of the Black Lyon family, amongst some very talented authors.

Right now I'm hard at work on the sequel, A Compromising Evening, as well as preparing for final exams.

I look forward to sharing more details about the book as it comes closer to release.

-K

Unspeakable Now Available

Now Available from Red Rose Publishing!

UNSPEAKABLE
Kayleigh Jamison

Erotic Romance: Regency, Historical/Period
ISBN: 978-1-60435-262-7
Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett
Editor: WRFG
Word Count: 12,830
Release Date: November 06, 2008


Trevor Caufield has always prided himself on being a consummate rake...until a clandestine meeting with a mysterious, strangely silent woman in a darkened hallway. Setting out to pursue Emma Hatton with purely selfish intentions, he discovers emotions that transcend his formerly uncomplicated existence and teach him that true love has no need for words.


Excerpt

“Ah, silence,” he muttered, rounding a corner and slipped deeper into the house. His steps were unhurried, and the leisurely pace saved him from walking straight into the petite form that blocked his path just after the turn.

The woman stared at him with wide, doe—eyes. She was radiantly beautiful in the dimly lit corridor, the rays of moonlight illuminating the golden tresses of her hair, which spilled over her shoulders in rich, enticing waves. She didn't have the look of a servant girl; her dress, though out—of—date, was far too elegant. Her pixie—like face was soft but refined, with a small, button nose and full, pouty lips that made him, without thinking, lick his own in anticipation. Her eyebrows, the same golden blonde as her hair, were fine and sculpted, arching over eyes that, even in the dim light, he saw were a sparkling, crystalline blue.

“My apologies, Madame, I didn't intend to frighten you,” Trevor soothed, recovering from his momentary shock and offering her a charming half—smile. Where have you been hiding? he wanted to ask instead.

Her eyes widened another fraction, but she said nothing.

“Truly, I thought myself alone,” he continued and flashed another smile. “Had I known I would encounter such an enchanting gem hidden away in this dark hall, I would have brought two glasses.” He lifted the champagne flute to his lips, watching her carefully over the rim.

Still no response from her. Were it not for the slight tremble of her lower lip, Trevor would have begun to wonder if she was a statue – or perhaps a life—sized doll. Yes, she resembled the dolls his little sister had played with as a child, her skin smooth and pale as porcelain, eyelashes almost freakishly long, fanning against the ridge of her eyebrows.

“Am I such a terrifying sight?”

More maddening silence.

He changed tactics. Trevor reached for her hand, half expecting her to jump backwards out of his reach. She didn't, and allowed him to grasp her fingers lightly, giving them a squeeze. Her skin was soft and silky, and he felt a jolt of warmth at the contact. “Are you ill, Madame? Hurt?”

She shook her head just the slightest bit – a minute gesture, the shimmer it stirred amongst her flaxen curls the only indication that she'd moved at all. Her hand remained limp in his much larger palm.

“Damnit, woman, say something, would you? Anything,” he exclaimed.

She shook her head again, this time with more force, and gave his hand a squeeze. Rather than pulling out of his grip, as he expected her to do, she allowed her hand to stay where it was, giving a second squeeze with her fingers.

“Well, good. We've established you're real, and I'm real,” Trevor said. “Now, I really must insist that you…” That she what, Caufield? Exactly what is it you want her to do?

A rustling from around the corner caused him to abandon his thought process. His companion stiffened, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Before he could stop her she'd pulled her hand free and was running down the hallway.

“Wait!” Trevor called. “At least allow me your name!”

She paused long enough to cast a final, mournful glance over her shoulder, and then disappeared into the shadows.

$1.99

USA Wake Up

PLEASE read with an open mind....


http://usawakeup. org/mission. htm

For those who are voting for Obama or are just not quite sure.. please take the time to FIRST click onto the above link and read with an open mind, along with watching the video at the end. I promise it will shock you! This will give you facts and truths about Obama that the American people have chosen to ignore or are just simply too lazy to research! We must stand up against socialism, our forefathers did not fight and die for us to give our country over to a socialist run government.


Remember, Obama claims to be a Christian. His mother was a known atheist and the first 10 years of his life he was raised by his step father who was of Muslim faith. In one of his own books, Obama states that if forced to choose, "He would support the Muslims." And if you don't know this, Obama is already being referred to as the Messiah all over Islam.


Obama does not celebrate Christmas and does not allow his children to celebrate. Remember, Christmas is a celebration of the birth of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ. When you're finished with the first link please watch the link below... if anything these links will give anyone with an open mind food for thought.


http://www. atlah. org/broadcast/ndnr10-23-08. html

Trilogy 111: SPEAK ITS NAME

A three novella anthology from three gay historical writers including my novella, Hard & Fast.
http://www.lindenbayromance.com/product-trilogyno111speakitsname-7212-145.html

From Josh Lanyon, author of Adrien English Mysteries

"Dashing spies, bold Regency bucks, and the flower of English manhood vie for readers' attention in this smart, original and engaging trilogy.This is not your mother's historical romance!"

Expectations riding on young Englishmen are immense; for those who've something to hide, those expectations could prove overwhelming.

Hard and Fast by Erastes

Major Geoffrey Chaloner has returned, relatively unscathed, from the Napoleonic War, and England is at peace for the first time in years. Unable to set up his own establishment, he is forced to live with his irascible father who has very clear views on just about everything—including exactly whom Geoffrey will marry and why. The trouble is that Geoffrey isn't particularly keen on the idea, and even less so when he meets Adam Heyward, the enigmatic cousin of the lady his father has picked out for him...

As Geoffrey says himself: "I have never been taught what I should do if I fell in love with someone of a sex that was not, as I expected it would be, opposite to my own."

Excerpt:

I stepped forward to him. "Your nature," I said, between gritted teeth, "has been nothing but unnatural since the first moment we met."

He didn't move a muscle, didn't take his eyes from mine; for all his apparent fragility, he certainly didn't appear to be intimidated by me.

"Perhaps," he said, almost idly, as if he weren't being towered over by a furious and insulted major, "it takes one to know one." It was as if our intimacy had not taken place and we were swapping insults in a card room.

I grabbed him then, with hands long schooled to denial; not to take what they wanted, not to fire at civilians, not to touch what it should not touch. I crushed him to me; I heard his cane fall to the floor and felt him waver in my arms as he struggled to support himself. All this in a moment, and all I had registered from him was the sudden intake of breath. No complaints, no barbed wit, no exultation—nothing that I had expected.

I felt nothing of the giddiness I had heard poets sing about. I felt like Hercules, his last task completed. I felt fierce and victorious, swept away with the madness of the moment. His hair was against my cheek, the scents that had haunted my dreams were more real and more delicious than I had remembered. He clung to me; his right arm around my neck for support, his left arm snaked around my waist. I shuddered in pleasure as he turned his face a little and his skin touched my face. Gooseflesh sprung around all over my body as he touched my cheek with his lips.

There was no thought in what happened next; I remember every second of it, but I remember most clearly of all that I made no decisions in my actions. Everything I did was ordained ...
~~~~~~~~~~~

The other two stories are a Victorian spy drama, Gentleman's Gentleman by Lee Rowan and a lovely 1920's Oxford undergrad story Aftermath by Charlie Cochrane

Tease At The Romance Room

The illustrious authors of Tease Publishing and Tease Dark Tarot will be chatting tomorrow all day at The Romance Room.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/theromanceroom/

Stop by and learn more about Tease, its authors, upcoming projects, and more. There may even be a give-away or two.

I'll be providing a sneak peak of my own upcoming Regency novel, Reckless Liaisons.

Kayleigh

The Muse is Back!

There are lots of reasons why the Muse stalls out from time to time. Writer's block, of course, which every author faces is the most commonly cited reason. More often than not for me, though, it's so-called "external factors," like law school stress, life stress, publishing stress. Those are what in turn lead to writer's block. I've had a bit of all three over the last two months or so, and because of that there's been little to no progress on Reckless Liaisons, much to my dismay.

But, I'm pleased to say, the Muse is back. Some of the external stress factors have been resolved, and the ideas are back. I haven't actually written anything yet, but Sebastian is rattling his cage in my mind, bombarding me with what he wants me to let him do.

To get back into the flow of the manuscript, I've been reading back over the chapters I wrote. And, forgive my moment of arrogance/self-confidence:

This book is good.

Really. Aside from an apparent love affair with adverbs in chapter 2, I keep impressing myself with both the story and the writing. Ideas spark from the oddest things. It could be the flash of an image in a movie (which led to Svetkavista), a dream with a bit of dialog and a snippet of a scene (Leading Her to Heaven), a what if question (Unspeakable). Reckless Liaisons started with one line: Sebastian never expected to see an unconscious woman slung across a horse running through his garden. It evolved, became something a bit more sophisticated, but the premise stands. And thus we meet our hero, and our story begins to take shape.

Here's an excerpt from Reckless Liaisons. Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Sebastian Cade had seen many things in his two and thirty years. A massive black stallion trotting across the gardens of his estate with an unconscious figure slung across its back was not something he’d ever expected to witness.

Sitting behind the large oak desk in his study, sipping brandy and attempting to chase away the headache that had formed after a seemingly endless day of reviewing accounts and answering correspondence, he had glanced up at the rush of movement in his peripheral vision, highlighted by the light pouring from the kitchen on the opposite side of the manor. He shook his head and looked a second time, expecting the strange vision to have disappeared. But no, there it was again; the horse slowed, lowering his head, and began to nibble with enthusiasm on the perfectly manicured bushes hedging the northernmost garden path. The rider, who had been slumped against the animal’s wide neck, slid forward at the loss of support and toppled, face first, unceremoniously to the ground. Though dressed as a man, he deduced the rider was female from the tangled mass of long black hair, blended almost seamlessly with the nighttime darkness. Her mount seemed unconcerned – after a brief shake of its head in her direction, he returned to his grazing.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered, rising to his feet and moving to the door of his study. He supposed the situation required investigation. He was exhausted, and in a rather foul mood after seeing how much money his younger brother had spent on gambling last month, but he couldn’t very well leave a comatose girl sprawled in the midst of his roses.

“Milord.” One of the maids met him in the hall. She was new, had only been in his employ a week, and he had yet to learn her name. “Yer not going to believe this,” she said.

“There’s a girl in my garden.”

“Aye, milord. Did ye see ‘er too, then? I’d stepped out o’ the kitchen t’ fetch some wood an’ there she was. We couldn’t find William, so Mrs. Holland said to fetch ye post haste.”

“Tell Mrs. Holland not to fret, I’m going to investigate.”

“She also said to tell ye to be careful, Yer Grace.” The young girl handed him her lantern with a coy smile.

He grinned in spite of himself, rubbed a hand across his face, and took the lantern. His scar throbbed, as it often did when he was frustrated. “Do tell Mrs. Holland that I can take care of a small slip of a girl perfectly fine, especially one that is unconscious.” The older woman who served as his head of household had been his nurse maid as a child, and was the closest he’d had to a mother growing up, his own having died giving birth to Sebastian’s brother. She’d been wildly protective of him in his youth and little had changed now about her opinion of his ability to care for himself.

With a final nod to the serving girl, he turned and headed for the back door of the manor, then out into the gardens and towards the crumpled heap that was barely visible in the milky blackness. The large black stallion lifted its head and snorted at his approach. It was an impressive animal – ridiculously large for such a small girl, clearly bred for racing. He’d have it cared for, as soon as he saw to its rider.

“Well,” Sebastian murmured, crouching down to brush thick black hair from the girl’s – no, woman’s – face, “this makes things interesting.”

She was indeed a woman, he realized as he set down the lantern. Gripping her shoulders, he gently turned her onto her back and a pair of deliciously full breasts swayed into view beneath the torn fragments of her shirt, snared by the rose bush’s thorns. The rest of her figure was slender and girlish but the swell of enticing porcelain flesh which rose and fell with each ragged unsteady breath proved his damsel in distress was certainly not a child. Her clothing was crude, simple tan breeches and the now soiled, torn shirt, but on her feet were dainty women’s slippers embroidered with green and gold. It was almost humorous and had the circumstances been different he surely would have laughed. Her skin was pale and flawless, not the tone or texture of a servant or peasant girl. What the devil was a woman such as her doing face down in his garden dressed as a stable hand, let alone riding unaccompanied across the English countryside?

His eyes came to rest on her face, tilted to the side and resting against one slender shoulder. Fine, sculpted brows arched above eyes protected by lashes so long and full they brushed the apples of her cheeks in a graceful fan. He wondered what color her eyes were, and hoped, irrationally, they would be blue. High cheekbones and a tiny button nose gave way to a full pouty mouth and small chin which lent her face a heart-like shape. Turning her chin, he surveyed the left side of her face, and discovered the source of her unconsciousness. A vivid, purple bruise marred her pale skin, just above her left temple, and a jagged cut had leaked blood down her cheek, now crusted to a dull brown.

Skimming his hands along her form, Sebastian performed a cursory check for broken bones and was relieved to find none. He stood and lifted her into his arms, surprised at how light she felt cradled against his chest.

Mrs. Holland waited for him at the door, worrying her bottom lip and wringing her hands together.

“I need water and bandages,” he ordered. “And clothes. I believe my sister has some night gowns in her old room. Someone locate my wayward valet and have him tend to the horse.”

“Shall I send for the doctor, your Grace?”

“Not yet.” With a shake of his head he started for the back staircase. “Help me tend to the wound, and then we’ll decide how bad it is.”

“Who is she?”

Sebastian paused and again shook his head, glancing down at the bundle in his arms. In the warm light of the kitchen she looked even more beautiful than his initial assessment had deduced, lips slightly parted, the ugly mess on the left side of her face the only indication something was out of sorts. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, drawing his attention lower, back to her breasts once more. An angel? He bit back a laugh. Where had such an absurd thought come from? It reminded him of the things he’d once said to… Don’t. “I’ve no idea.”

Beautiful Sin

12th November sees Xcite books publish their latest offerings, Ultimate Sex, Ultimate Submission and Ultimate Sins. (www.xcitebooks.com)

My first regency story is to be published in Ultimate Sins - a short story called "Beautiful Sin" about two women who are in love at a time when it's seen as wrong and immoral.

And oh, I'm really pleased with it. I honestly think it's the best thing I've written (and no, I'm not just saying that, truly!), and I'm particularly pleased because I adore the regency period and it's lovely to feel that I can write about it and write well enough for other people to read.

And as a taster, to give you an idea...

‘The wrong path of love’. ‘A wicked perversion’. Catherine knew it had been called both of those things; knew, too, that in a country where King George himself was in a mental institution, it would be easy enough for two ordinary girls to be sent to a hospital for the insane because of their forbidden love affair.