I was excited and I knew what to expect this time: an initial lull as readers made their way through the story, then reaction. The nail-biting began as I waited for the reactions:
“Holy fuck this is a great book!”
“Oh my gosh Renae Kaye, The Shearing Gun is freaking awesome!”
“Get out and buy The Shearing Gun by @renaekkaye from @dreamspinners It's bloody
“Just finished The Shearing Gun loved it so much. Hank and Quackle are adorable. I loved
visiting their world & felt like I had a real insight into Sheep Shearing.”
I finally relaxed a tad – people were embracing it with open arms. I was a little doubtful the “shearing & sheep” bit was going to put people off, but you guys are seasoned pros.
One thing that always surprises me as an author, are the scenes that stick in a reader’s mind. Or the quotes. I often write a line and then sit back, thinking, “Wow, that was a stroke of genius!” Yet, when the book comes out, for one reason or another, that line is lost.
Conversely, the lines that were dashed out and never considered are the ones most laughed over.
As with The Shearing Gun. It seems that the “table scene” has made an impression. I really didn’t mean it to. Not really. Truly.
For those who haven’t read my book (yet?), I’ll catch you up. Hank is a farmer and shearer. He’s deep in the closet. The new doctor in town is Elliot (who Hank calls Quackle – Quack Ell, get it?), who has temporarily stepped back into the closet while he works out his contract in rural Western Australia. A friendship starts up, followed by a slow burn of desire.
Hank fights it, every step of the way, until at last he cracks and gives in to the temptation that is Elliot. After their first night together, it’s several days before Elliot can come out to meet Hank again.
The kettle was getting ready to boil and the mugs out when I jumped him. I thought that was rather restrained of me. After all, he had been at my house for a good thirty minutes and all I’d received was a wet kiss and a bit of a pelvic thrust. Not nearly enough to satisfy three days of hunger. It seemed that when it was a three hour drive to find sexual relief my libido was rather laid-back, but when it was a mere thirty minute drive, twenty if I sped, then my sexual hunger was all out of whack.
“Do you want to christen my kitchen table, Quackle? I think I would like to see you spread out on my table, so that every time I eat there I can think of you.” He was groaning and writhing in my lap, sending sensations up my dick, but he managed to nod. I stood up and steadied him on his feet. I had a fantasy to fulfil and I hoped he’d cooperate. “I need to get a couple of things out of the bedroom, but I’m going to be super quick. Take your shoes off, Ell, but nothing else. I’ll be back.”
Do you get the picture yet?
He winced a little and I was contrite. “Shit, I did hurt you, didn’t I?”
He looked at me seriously. “Hank? Can you do me a favour, buddy? Every time we have sex, I don’t want you having to ask me if you hurt me. I’m a big boy now and I can tell you to stop if you are being too rough. A bit of a twinge after going a round with you just means I have been well fucked. I’m sure that one day we will get around to a slow and gentle fucking, but for now I am ecstatically over-the-moon about how you ravish me. So stop worrying. I haven’t broken a bone yet from sexual antics.”
Have I whetted your appetite yet?
Buy The Shearing Gun at Dreamspinner, Amazon or ARe.