Four times I've started this post, and four times I've deleted what I'd typed.
Because it was boring.
Let's hope attempt five fares better.
I guess there are as many types of blogs as you can have hot dinners. Blogs to inform, blogs to rant, blogs to pimp, blogs to…well you get the picture. Each one is as important as the next. but not to everyone.
Blogs are like sweets, or well hot dinners. We all don't like the same thing. So it's up to each blogger to do there best to make their blog post something someone will want to read, and enjoy.
Okay yes, it's great to get likes and shares and comments, but as long as it's read and gives food for thought, even if that thought, is oh no not in a million years, then that's good.
Now a lot of blogs these days are of course to pimp a book. To let you all know that hey there, my book is out. What do you think? And then, just in case your thought was oohh I fancy reading this, to show you where you can buy it.
By a non strange coincidence I do have a book out, and yes I'd love you to love the blurb and excerpt enough to pull out the plastic and spend your hard earned cash on it. But if you don't? That's okay as well.
Because I want to chat.
I must be a nightmare at times Doris O'Connor, hush your mouth, because I frequently have the oh lordy what if no one likes this moments. My gorgeous crit group bear the brunt of this, and are very good at telling me to pull up my big girl knickers, and get on with it. I must say this usually happens when I've run out of chocolate. Because of course not everyone will like my voice, my subject matter, or the way I treat it. Just like we don't all like ice cream though seriously, not even one flavor? or wine… hunts for both and finds them
Once I've replenished my muse, I get on with it. Yes chocolate is instrumental in my writing no chocolate and I stutter
I had a teacher once, who told me writing was a serious matter, and I treated it much too frivolously. I had to stop writing in such a flower manner and concentrate on the facts. You know I'm so glad I didn't listen to them once I passed the necessary exams.
Because now I've found my voice I could as easily shut it up as ignore said chocolate and wine.
I'm happy with it.
I hope you are as well, but if not, thanks for reading his far. Please don't throw eggs, (unless they're a certain manufacturers caramel one.)
Oh and here's the pimping bit…
The series of the Brigstock Family, Behind Closed Doors, was conceived over a gin (me) and tequila (Lee Brazil) Facebook conversation one Friday night. By Sunday we had our series mapped out, and who would write which book. Yes they are stand alones, so you don't have to read them all, but of course we'd love you to.
Nash's Niche is book four…
A chance meeting at a masked ball leads to explosive and unforgettable sex for both Nash and Felicity.
Reunited under dangerous circumstances, they realize they may have to fight for their love, especially when Felicity is promised to Nash's brother.
With the future of the country at stake and unsure who to trust, can their be a future for the star stuck lovers?
A wee teaser…
He wriggled his nose. The chair was all fine and dandy, but he needed his bed. With a sigh Nash toed his house shoes off, and looked at his pantaloons. They were knitted and stretched to fit the contours of his body. Therefore in theory they should pull down even over his still hard cock. It was no good; once he was able to rest in comfort he would have to take himself in hand. However, before then…
He struggled to his feet and with one hand to anchor him steady, he used his other to pull the garment over his cock and arse and thence down his legs. Once they gathered around his ankles, Nash used his feet to tug the pantaloons off and stepped over them. His shirt could stay. That was one effort too much. He measured the distance to the bed. Two strides should do it.
The first stride worked. The second was slightly longer and had him wobbling, but it brought him to the edge of the mattress. He let his body fall forward.
Not onto the mattress, on to…
A body? He tried to see clearly. Two bodies? Surely not, not in his bed. He squinted, put his hand into the direction of where he thought one of the bodies could be, and patted flesh. Soft warm female flesh. His vision wavered and cleared enough to know it was one body…
It stirred. Nash levered himself to stand on the floor one more, loath to leave the soft comfort he'd found, but aware enough to know he needed to. He let his hand move to the left and drift up what he decided was a damn curvaceous thigh. If only he could see clearly just who had offered herself as his plaything. It would be best to have a face on the body he was about to fuck.
The body jerked as his fingers circled damp curls and he nipped her soft nub until it hardened in a beautiful mimicry of his cock. Then he let his fingers delve into the warm channel under them. The body tried to pull back even as a soft mewl showed him his ministrations were appreciated. Then he heard a scream, one that most certainly wasn't a sound of pleasure.
"Do not move," he said in a rough voice. He felt it only fair to warn whoever he was now filling with his fingers, and who he noted was writhing in time to his thrusts, that, "I have a weapon, and I will use it."
If that's got your interest, yeah okay… the buy links…
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she's strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
You can find out more about Raven here…
https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan (my page)
https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan (author page)