Yesterday in my Goodreads blog I posted a sort of introduction to Sharon Wright, heroine (if that’s the right word) of Sharon Wright: Butterfly. I’d like to show one or two more aspects of Sharon to help people decide whether or not the book is for them. I’ll post the final example tomorrow, but here is the one I want to show today. Sharon, who was recently widowed when Buggy, her husband, got on the wrong side of two hitmen, is with her friend from school days, Jackie Gough. They have just fulfilled one of Sharon’s long-held fantasies. Jackie is falling for Sharon which – at least from his point of view – is unwise because Sharon’s advances are in fact the kind a praying mantis might make. Here’s the extract:

Jackie Gough lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking that now he’d seen everything. Sharon nuzzled his side. The tattered remains of her torn knickers clung to one thigh. Neither of them had a stitch on otherwise. ‘That was lovely, Jackie.’
‘Yeah. Yeah it was.’
‘Did you really like it?’
‘The best, Sharon. The best I’ve ever had.’
‘You don’t think I’m funny?’
‘I know you’re funny, Sharon. That was still the best sex I’ve ever had.’
‘You know what I liked best?’
‘I daren’t ask.’
‘The way you’d gone to the bathroom and washed yourself. You know. Before you came in. Most men don’t think about how they taste in a girl’s mouth. You’ve gone red. Do I embarrass you?’
‘You’d embarrass the Pope, sometimes.’
‘You don’t belong round here, Jackie. You’re a gentleman.’ She kissed him. ‘Aren’t you glad I’m not a lady?’
‘You are a lady, Shazza. In your own way.’
‘Funny, isn’t it? How playing games makes it better.’
‘Yeah.’
‘We could play one of your games next time.’
‘I don’t know if I’ve got any games, Sharon. Of my own, I mean.’
‘I’m sure you could think of one.’ She doodled one-finger patterns on his shoulder. ‘Jackie.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You know I’m a widow now?’
‘Bloody hell. Yeah, I suppose you are. Bit of a merry widow, aren’t you?’
‘Jackie! I do care about Buggy being dead you know.’
‘I know you do, petal.’
That’s why I’ve been wearing black knickers since he died.’
‘He’d be deeply touched.’
‘I loved Buggy.’
‘Let’s be fair, Sharon. You love a lot of people. Often at the same time.’
‘Yes, well. That’s because I loved Buggy, but I didn’t respect him.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well, you couldn’t, really, could you?’
‘Couldn’t you?’
‘I respect you, Jackie.’
Gough raised himself on one elbow. ‘Where are you going with this, Sharon? Shazza? Are you…why are you crying?’
‘If I hadn’t…if me and Buggy hadn’t been…you know…do you think it might ever have been me and you instead?’
‘Bloody hell, Sharon.’
‘I always fancied you. But Buggy was Top Cat back then, wasn’t he? And then, when I realised, we were married and it was too late. That’s what happens. You realise something, and it’s too late.’
‘Life can only be understood backwards,’ said Gough. ‘But it has to be lived forwards.’
Sharon sat up, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Jackie,’ she breathed. ‘That’s brilliant. Oh, I wish I’d gone to college, Jackie.’
‘Yeah. Well. It’ll be too late for me pretty soon. And then it won’t matter whether it might ever have been me and you. Because there won’t be any me to be part of it.’
‘Jackie. Whatever do you mean?’
‘I’m in the crap, Sharon. I’ve got the police on one side, Jim Cameron on another, and Mad Dan Ablett on the third.’
‘Like a triangle. Why’s Mad Dan cross with you?’
‘He doesn’t know he is, yet.’
She put her finger on his brow and ran it down his nose. ‘It was you grassed him up.’
‘Grass is a nasty word, Sharon. Don’t use it. Even in fun.’
‘Buggy said it was you.’
‘Bloody hell. Who else did he tell?’
‘No-one I shouldn’t think. Buggy wouldn’t shop a mate. Even one he thought was seeing to his wife.’
‘He what?’
She sat cross-legged on the bed. ‘Why don’t you tell me the whole story? And don’t look at me down there. You’ll only get excited again.’

Sharon Wright: Butterfly is available for Kindle here and as a paperback (the price includes post and packing wherever in the world you are) here.

John Lynch, Mandrill Press, Sharon Wright: Butterfly