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Beverley Raw was born in Luton, Bedfordshire; working in many different areas before joining Luton Borough Council where she met her husband. She contracted M.E. which culminated in her taking early retirement and a move down to live in East Devon. She began making handmade greeting cards and jewellery which sold locally. She has always enjoyed writing for pleasure and found by chance the site for UKUnpublished which led her to write this book. This selection of five stories is intended to pave the way to further writing in the future and is her first published work.
Beverley joined UKUnpublished as the very first Author, and we are very proud of that.
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by Beverley Raw
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-84944-000-4
Paperback RRP: £9.49
UKBookland Price : £8.29 including FREE Standard UK Delivery - available here.
Mobipocket eBook available here for 6 Euros.
Mobipocket eBook ISBN: 978-1-84944-002-8
This book is a selection of 5 short stories, covering a range of genre, so there's likely to be something for most people!
Telling Tales : In the middle of them was an enormous pot - a cauldron of some sort he supposed, maybe some poor clot was going to end up in it! He was glad he'd come, this was certainly going to be worth seeing...
|Rendezvous : Ralph and Pamela were petrified frozen to the spot, completely helpless, staring at the screen like a pair of rabbits caught in headlights.
Daddy's Little Camper : Sarah glanced across at Jake, now snoring, mouth wide open, lolling in the sun, his towel discarded on the floor: drunk, crude and irresponsible but hopelessly, impossibly, infuriatingly sexy and ... exciting! Her throat was dry and a lump was stopping her from swallowing; her head was spinning: she was a mother with responsibilities, so why did she feel like an immature sixteen-year-old with a mammoth crush.
Old Beaky : When she looked up, she saw about to touch her shoulder, was the Plague Doctor; eyes red and menacing in the grotesque mask.
The Looking Glass : A huge red stain had now soaked into the pink and white rug; a few drips were still emanating from the frame, but the image or whatever it was he'd seen in the glass had gone.
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