Svetkavista



Available Now!

Caro of Coffee Time Romance says,
"Ms. Jamison has penned an absolutely stunning and adventurous tale that drew me in from page one, to the point that I forgot everything but the story unfolding before me. Not only was the plot extremely well developed, the passion between the main protagonists was sizzling hot! This is one of the most titillating pieces of erotica that I have read in some time. Every secret fantasy played out for optimal pleasure."

Trapped within a life where she has always been an outsider, Karina dutifully follows the wishes of her father by day, and secretly pursues her dreams by night. Raised within the strict, patriarchal society of the Rom at a time when discrimination and fear are at their peak, she is forced to hide both her love of music, and her passion for those who encourage her dreams.
She seeks comfort in the arms of her dearest friend and mentor, who shows her that love and lust rarely confine themselves to the ill-conceived notions of normalcy.

When a lie, spoken in a moment of desperation, threatens to shatter everything Karina holds dear, she must chose between those she loves and her own reputation. Will the truth set her free or destroy her? Does she have the courage to follow her own heart?

Svetkavista is a haunting, sensuous tale that explores the blurred lines between love and lust, truth and loyalty, and one woman's journey to understand her own heart.

Excerpt:
She made her way down to the banks of the Tisza to quickly bathe in private. Stripping down to her white undergarment she stepped gingerly into the water, moving forward until she was knee-deep in the icy current. She paused to allow herself to adjust to the chill before wading out farther.

Half a dozen more steps, and the water was up to her elbows. Karina dipped her head back, soaking her hair, and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness as she rested in the water’s embrace. When she began to shiver from the cold she straightened and glanced down at her torso – the white slip was plastered against her pale form, the flesh underneath covered with goosebumps.

She gazed at her reflection in the water, murky and imperfect, and sighed. Papusza had said that Brishen liked her. How could that be? She was a half-breed, and an unattractive one at that. Her one redeeming feature was that she could dance; and if her father had his way she’d never dance for anyone, except in secret, midnight rendezvous’ with people she was supposed to look down upon.

She slipped back down into the river with a sigh and relaxed her arms, allowing them to float on the buoyancy of the water. She drifted this way for a time before standing and glancing up to the sky. The first rays of sunlight were peaking out from between the hills. The others would be waking soon.

Karina waded back to the bank, pausing to wring out her hair and undergown. She laid down on the grass, stretching out beneath the creeping warmth of the dawn sun. There were clouds just beyond the horizon, suggesting that the day would soon turn gloomy and damp, and she wanted to enjoy the sun for as long as it lasted. She would go and dance tonight, Karina decided – for herself, for Papusza, and to prove to Brishen that she wasn’t unnerved by him. Maybe, to prove it to herself as well.

When she was dried, she stood and shuffled over to where she’d left her clothes. She pulled the skirts up over her hips, and was about to shrug into her shirt, when she heard a voice behind her.

“Droboy tume Romale.”

Karina whirled around and saw Brishen leaning against a tree, not far away, with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. She narrowed her eyes and looked away, but stayed silent.

“I offended you last night,” he stated, without remorse.

“You did,” she answered curtly, avoiding his gaze.

“It was a compliment, wanting to watch you dance. Truly.”

“Then there are lies more believable than the truth,” she quoted.

He grinned. “I don’t believe I’ve ever known a woman who couldn’t accept a compliment before.”

“And I’ve never known a man with such a perverse notion of compliments,” she countered, gathering the rest of her clothing in her arms. She made a motion to walk past him, to get back to the camp where he wouldn’t dare try to speak with her, moving with a calm that belied her nervousness.

Brishen’s hand shot out as soon as she was close enough, latching onto her elbow and halting her progress. His grip was firm.

“Let go of me!” she exclaimed, twisting away from him. In response, he brought his other arm up to circle her waist, pulling her against his body. Her armful of clothes was the only thing separating them.

“I’ll scream,” Karina whispered. “I’ll scream at the top of my lungs, and they’ll all come.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

He pulled her even closer, crushing her against him, and brought his face within inches of hers. She could feel the lean, hard muscles of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, could feel the strain of his forearm against her waist. His other hand released its grip on her elbow and came up to stroke her cheek.

“Then go ahead and scream,” he murmured.

She opened her mouth to do just that and he covered her lips with his own, kissing her hard and fast. His tongue pushed into her mouth, tracing the line of her teeth, and thrusting with a rhythm that, to her horror, her body seemed to recognize.When he released her he was smiling.

“I told you you wouldn’t scream,” he said with a smirk.

“You are a pig!” she spat, wrenching free of his grasp.

His chestnut eyes sparkled. “A pig? Perhaps, but a pig that you like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Brishen. I’d sooner kiss a real swine than kiss you again!” she said, turning away from him before he could respond. “Next time, I will scream,” she called over her shoulder.

Svetkavista © 2006 by Kayleigh Jamison
All works © Aphrodite’s Apples Press, LLC, 2005-2006

Aphrodite's Apples is looking for junior editors to work on short story anthologies and longer works. If you are interested, please email hskinn@aphroditesapples.com or kjamison@aphroditesapples.com. Ms. Kinn is author liason and Ms. Jamison is Aphrodite's Editor-in-Chief.

A Great Review for Svetkavista!

Check it out! Five Cup from Coffee Time Romance!

With her pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, Karina could not be more
different from her Romani family if she tried. Although her father, of the
Argintari branch of the Romani’s, considers the Lautari branch a lower class,
Karina is inexplicably drawn to the neighbouring camp’s music each night. More
importantly, she is drawn to both her best friend, Papusza, and the violinist,
Brishen.

Brishen is audacious, fiery tempered, and proprietarial in his
pursuit of Karina. He has no problem flouting the rules when it suits him,
especially if this will bring even greater pleasure to Karina, and thereby
himself. She is the motivating force behind his most beautiful and sensual
music.

Brishen has spent so long wanting Karina from a distance that it has
become second nature to him. Not until he faces losing her to another does he
step forward to claim her as his bride. Karina is unable to choose between the
two people she loves and desires. Can Brishen alter his preconceptions about who
Karina is and learn to give her the freedom she needs to be happy, or will he
lose her to his jealousy? Karina must also decide if desiring sexual
satisfaction from these two very different people is fair, or just plain greedy.
Can she choose between the two if it becomes necessary?

Ms Jamison has penned an absolutely stunning and adventurous tale that drew me in from page one, to the point that I forgot everything but the story unfolding before me. Not only was the plot extremely well developed, the passion between the main
protagonists was sizzling hot! This is one of the most titillating pieces of erotica that I have read in some time. Every secret fantasy played out for optimal pleasure.

Svetkavista will be available July 28th from Aphrodite's Apples Press!

Progression of Prose

I have been asked many times in the past (by non-authors, because those of you who share the passion for writing with me, know damn well) where my ideas come from. That is far too esoteric a question for me to answer; however, I can explain how I put them down on paper, mold them, and give them shape.

In my latest novel, I am currently writing a scene where my hero, Blair, becomes what may seem uncharacteristically dominant with his heroine and now wife, Susanna. The first half of the scene is told from Susanna's perspective, which describes Blair's actions but does not explain them. Now we've shifted to Blair's POV, and we'll get more into the whys.

I start with a stereotype: proper ladies do not enjoy sex. We've all heard it, but how and where? Blair is in 16th century Scotland; he certainly didn't pick up the phrase on pimpinhos.com. So let's think, how would Blair have come to believe such a thing? Word of mouth, most likely. Alright, let's try this:

When he was a boy, Blair had caught his father sneaking out to the taverns of Perth one evening, seeking the company of one of the local wenches whose charms were available to any with a pocketful of coins. He'd asked, with the curiosity and bluntness of a youngster, why a man would go to a whore when he had a wife at home. "Because, lad," his father had told him simply, "wives are to be cherished. When ye take one yerself, ye must always be gentle with her and no disturb her modesty. When a laird needs satisfaction, he must find a whore. A woman who would please ye well does no have the breeding to be the wife of the laird."

Hm...ok, good. Weaving the stereotype into a story, rather than simply stating: Blair had been told that proper women did not enjoy sex. But wait, in Chapter 8, didn't Blair tell Susanna that his father had married his mother for love? Had even fought battles with a neighboring clan over her?

Uh oh, plot hole! A man who would wage a war for a woman isn't likely to be whoring around in the middle of the night. Alright, can't use his father. Let's try:

When he was a boy, Blair had caught his grandfather sneaking out to the taverns of Perth one evening, seeking the company of one of the local wenches whose charms were available to any with a pocketful of coins. He'd asked, with the curiosity and bluntness of a youngster, why a man would go to a whore when he had a wife at home. "Because, lad," his grandsire had told him simply, "wives are to be cherished. When ye take one yerself, ye must always be gentle with her and no disturb her modesty. When a laird needs satisfaction, he must find a whore. A woman who would please ye well does no have the breeding to be the wife of the laird."

Yes, much better! Someone Blair would have listened to, certainly. Now that we have the presentation of the stereotype, we have to outline why Blair has decided to buck the trend. The first thing that comes, I write down:

Blair hadn't seen the sense in that. He especially didn't now, with his wife's supine, naked form shuddering beneath him, her breath coming in soft, shallow pants, hair fanned out across the pillow in a fiery shock of red curls.


He would never harm her. Despite her protestations, she raised her ass ever so slightly against his palm, pushing into his caress with the last bit of strength she had. Every bone in her body was passion incarnate, and he resolved to show her that she could, indeed, withstand more pleasure.

I like it. But, it seems to need more elaboration. Sure, she's sexy and he's horny, but there has to be more to it than that, no? So after a few moments of thinking, I start typing again. Our two paragraphs become:

Blair hadn't seen the sense in that. He especially didn't now, with his wife's supine, naked form shuddering beneath him, her breath coming in soft, shallow pants, hair fanned out across the pillow in a fiery shock of red curls. She brought out the beast in him -- that part of his warrior soul that coiled deep within, the part he'd spent most of his life trying to tame and to keep dormant. It was the beast that fought on the battlefield, the beast that wielded his broadsword with deadly precision, the beast that had scarred the treacherous Spencer for life. And it was the beast that reared its head now, demanded he take her, demanded he possess her
completely. Though if he were being completely honest with himself, Blair realized that the man, too, wanted no doubt in his mind, hers, or even his clan who no doubt could hear his wife's desperate, orgasmic cries throughout the entire castle.

The one thing that the beast refused to recognize was that she was as much his master as he was hers. He would never harm her. His hand fell away from her hair and smoothed the silken curve of her back in a gesture that was both soothing and sinful. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she raised her ass ever so slightly against his palm, pushing into his caress with the last bit of strength she had. Every bone in her body was passion incarnate, and he resolved to show her that she could, indeed, withstand more pleasure.

Gives a more solid explanation for his actions. But it's not very polished. I use "no doubt" twice in one sentence, and I hate the word "orgasmic", it doesn't seem to fit the piece. So now we tweak - and we ask Katrina Strauss for suggestions to replace "orgasmic". "throughout the castle" is clunky, and probably unnecessary. Always avoid loading a sentence with more than it requires. So let's kill it. Also, balance out the description of Susanna. Since I used "her breath", I should use "her hair" as well, rather than simply "hair..." We end up with:

Blair hadn't seen the sense in that. He especially didn't now, with his wife's supine, naked form shuddering beneath him, her breath coming in soft, shallow pants, her hair fanned out across the pillow in a fiery shock of red curls. She brought out the beast in him -- that part of his warrior soul coiled deep within, the part he'd spent most of his life trying to tame and keep dormant. It was the beast that fought on the battlefield, the beast that wielded his broadsword with deadly precision, the beast that had scarred the treacherous Spencer for life. And it was the beast that reared its head now, demanded he take her, demanded he possess her completely. Though if he were being completely honest with himself, Blair realized that the man, too, wanted no doubt in his mind, hers, or even his clan who most assuredly heard his wife's desperate, rapturous cries.

The one thing that the beast refused to recognize was that she was as much his master as he was hers. He would never harm her. His hand fell away from her hair and smoothed the silken curve of her back in a gesture that was both soothing and sinful. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she raised her ass ever so slightly against his palm, pushing into his caress with the last bit of strength she had. Every bone in her body was passion incarnate, and he resolved to show her that she could, indeed, withstand more pleasure.

There, now that's worlds better still, don't you think? Writing is a progressive art. We write, then we re-write, then we revise, and revise again.

Class dismissed!

Hello Darlings!

Long time no update, I know. Things have been rather out of control here of late, so I do apologize for not keeping you abreast of, well, me. A few important announcements:

1. Aphrodite's Apples Press will officially open its doors July 28th!

2. In relation to AA's launch, Svetkavista will be released July 28th! I had originally announced September, well, boy was I off by a few months. My debut novel will be for sale in electronic format in less than a month's time, and available in print later this year.

Several reviewers currently have ARCs of Svetkavista and I am experience heart palpitations on a collosal scale.

3. I took a break from my WIP, Leading Her to Heaven, to write a short story for an upcoming AA Anthology. Caging Kat follows the antics of one fiesty, sarcastic art thief who finds herself on the opposite end of a pursuit for once, and the man who has his eye on her isn't just any man - he's Ares, Greek God of War and Manliness. How long do you think Kat can hold out? Longer than I could with a testosterone laden god seducing me at every turn, I'll tell you that much.

4. Aphrodite's Apples is still accepting submissions for its Masquerade Anthology. If you're a writer who enjoys a touch of intrigue, a dab of anonymity, and a boatload of sexy fun, why not check out the Invitation and see what your imagination conjures!

While you're waiting for Svetkavista's release, and pondering the many suggestions of your Muse, why not check out Aphrodite's Apples Bites? A free ebook teaser with sneak peaks of upcoming titles from AA, you can read an excerpt from Svetkavista, not to mention whet your appetite for Katrina Strauss's Secrets Revealed, HS Kinn's Immortal Reveries, and much more!

And if you get bored with all of that (what, do you never sleep?), I demand you check out the Sexy Authors With Attitude and treat yourself to some of the new titles released by my dear partners in sexiness, including recent releases from:

Emma Wildes - the woman writes so fast I can't keep up (I still love her!!), just go to her website to check out her fifty nine new books;

Jamie Hill - I Dream of Eugene is available and she also has a short in the newest Whiskey Creek Press Torrid anthology, Summer Sizzlers;

Darragha Foster - Teaching Old Gods New Tricks, Book One is for sale, and people it is GOOD;

D. Musgrave - Performance Review

Jude Mason - An Acquired Taste

then read some older, but still great titles by the rest of the SAWAS:

Cheri Valmont - Sweet Summer Rain

Skyler Grey - Chamberlain's Knight

Nicole Getridge - Shielded Heart and Captured Heart

Michele Houston - Another one who has too many damn books to list. ;)

Alright, done with all that? Well it must be July 28th by now, go buy my book!

-K.