Tuesday 1 November 2016

Blowing my own trumpet. it's #Preorder day for Fairground Attraction

And that makes me very happy.

so does this fantastic graphic by the amazing Emmy Ellis.

I just drooled...

Originally this was a shorter story with a now lamented and lost publisher. But as I so liked it, I dusted it down, updated it and the fabulous Totally Bound accepted this new version.

(Thank you TB)

It's a great experience to revisit old stories. See what you love and yep, what you don't about them. And sometimes, like here, you get the chance to update and add a bit to the story.
It's not that I think the original story was rubbish. I don't, or why else would I have done this? It is because I, as a writer have improved over the intervening years. (Well I hope I have, anyway, you can be the judge there.)
And I had so much fun. Apart from discovering how much my writing has changed and how I can see things I didn't before. It's a great learning curve.

Drum roll,

I give you a wee tease... Exclusive to here... well and the book...

Her erotic, foot-tapping rhythm said ‘take me, fuck me’ and was making him hot as it sent messages from his brain to his cock and back again. Those sodding, fecking arousing scenarios were playing havoc with his concentration. What was he supposed to be answering? Oh fuck, Da and the fair.
“Ah well, Vairi My Queen, that’s the rub. Sometimes, although now more for the craic than the necessity.” Why did the look she was giving him have him wanting to cover all the strategic parts of his body? “Otherwise he’s at home with my ma and playing lord of the manor, so he is.”
“For fuck’s sake, cut the crap.” The water in her glass rippled violently as she slammed it down. She stood and paced across the trailer before swinging to face him, her hair following the motion in a forceful sweep across her face. Ah, that was why his hands, hovering over his cock and balls, were ready to take evasive action—her frustration was palpable.
“I, ah… Okay, tell me what you want,'” he said slowly, his mind racing. “And I’ll do my best.”
“Please, Padraig. Okay, I’ll accept I’ve been set up,” she said in an exasperated voice. “Now I know why Lorna was so insistent I came to the fair with her and Denny. She knows I don’t do rides well. But what exactly was I set up for? Surely my daughter wasn’t pushing me toward an evening of sex and satisfaction?”
Laughing at the look of horror in her face as she realized what she had said, he made to reassure her. “No, no, Vairi My Queen, that was not in her mind.” It is in my mind though. Oh, by God, is it in my mind. “I was out with the two of them on Tuesday, and Lorna was saying that you’d been commenting you were in a rut and needed to get out of it or drown in wallowing crappiness. Her words not mine. She wanted to help you to get out of it—all work and no play is not good. So I said if they brought you with them tonight, I’d show you a good time. I wasn’t thinking you would go a strange shade of grey when I did.”
That elicited a reluctant laugh. “Okay, I concede that’s my own fault. I decided to jump out of my rut. I forgot the parachute. Hell, I should know better, I even get motion sick in the passenger seat of a car. Should have stuck to hook-a-duck.”
He chuckled with her. “Would looking at the water round those cute little ducks not be making you seasick then?”
“Jeez, Rake, drop the accent, why don’t you. You keep dipping in and out so much I’m giddy. It’s not real, it’s phoney. You sound like a stereotypical B-movie. Yes?”
He shook his head as he looked at her and replied with not entirely faked sorrow. “That’s where you are wrong. I’ll admit I’ve been piling it on. Lorna said you were a romantic, inspired by sexy accents, and as I’ve been told over the years, the Irish accent is just that, sexy, so I thought, well, why not? To be honest and truthful, the lilt is always there. It’s just been weakened over the years. I resurrected it for you.” He watched her, as she seemed to mull over his statement. He could imagine her dissecting every word and pulling up to consider the bits she chose to.
“I’ll buy into that. Right.” She took a deep breath and smiled. A look hot enough to split his jeans if he wasn’t careful. A lesser expression than that had started wars, he was certain.
“So, Rake.” The way she purred his name sent his libido sky high, and he swore there would be a stain on his jeans. “A good name, by the way. Now, what are you going to show me?”
His cock knew what he wanted. It was hard and tight up against the fly of his jeans, straining the zip in its effort to be free of its confines. He was glad Mr. Levi Strauss knew a thing or two about the strength of denim.

“It depends on how much you want to fly.”

Happy reading,

love Raven x

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