It is time to tell you about my short story in the anthology Who Thrilled Cock Robin, edited by that well known Morris Dancer Sallyanne Rogers.
I was so excited when I heard she was putting together a book with the theme of stories inspired by folk music because I have been a regular attender and support of Broadstairs Folk Week for more than a decade AND I had the acorn of a story in my mind within minutes (I think it was already there and just needed watering).
I drew upon my experience of the real event and imagined that atmosphere around my characters. The story is actually set the night before folk week starts. The town is braced for the invasion of folk-festival folk. For all the good and bad that such an event brings.
My story is called Broadstairs Bloke Week: it is August, the weather is warm, it is holiday time and some of the single women are interested in blokes… of course.
When Emma walks home (to her parent’s house where she is staying) from the pub with a neighbour and his friend she really isn’t expecting it to lead to anything. Even when she invites them in for coffee, she is thinking of just a drink but the guys have a threesome on their mind…
Broadstairs Bloke Week is a fast paced, light hearted erotica. It’s a funny, contemporary, new adult story with a twist in the plot.
As ever I expect to be at Broadstairs Folk Week again this year for about five days.
The book is available in print and as an ebook from all the usual places.
Want a taster? This is a excerpt from my story:
“Where to, Emma? Want to join us for another drink or can we walk you home?” asked Kieran. Since when did the boy I vaguely remembered playing in the street turn into such a hot guy? A drink was tempting but, let’s face it, I was not about to get off with the man who grew up two doors away from me and still lived at home with his parents. At our age that just wasn’t not right!
As for his friend, he’d be OK for a one-night stand, in that “what happens in Broadstairs stays in Broadstairs” sort of way but he was staying the night with the boy-now-man, from almost next door. I preferred my one-night stands with the unemployed to be considerably more anonymous, to be guaranteed to not come back to haunt me.
“I’m going home, but you don’t need to walk with me, you know it’s not far.” I shivered. Even in August, any time after nine at night is usually too cold for bare arms, due to the sea breeze.
“Of course we’ll walk with you. After all, it’s not far,” said Nick. “You look cold, how about we cuddle up to keep warm?” Without waiting for a reply, he put his arm around my waist. I must have left the fierce independent feminist that lives within me at my home in Reading, because I practically swooned. Perhaps he was cold, too, and on this very short walk I’d get to feel that body of his. I hooked my arm around his waist.
Unemployed he might be but he looked good. I’d been admiring him since Amber and I first spotted this couple. We had actually followed them into the bar! Both of them were perfectly proportioned, tall slim men wearing hipster jeans with toned muscle under skimpy, tight T-shirts.