Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 44

On guard against jealousy #mfrwhooks

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Here’s the next hook from my almost WIP, tentatively titled Audra Fleeing, Audra Finding.

[image error]This, the fifth book in the Alien Contact for Idiots series, takes place five years after

 

 

 

 

“I’m looking for a woman,” he said.

Opsie waved to indicate her unfinished office. “I’m afraid my brothel isn’t quite open for business.” The joke felt forced, but Elinor liked it when Kwadrans, especially the nobility, acted with the informality of her homeland.

Instead of smiling, Verhailey frowned. “It’s my niece, Audra.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“A few weeks ago,” Elinor said, “she ran away to Kwadra and has since disappeared. We don’t have private investigators yet, too busy building our infrastructure from scratch, but as the recently retired head of the gendarmerie, you’re the closest we have.”

Finding a runaway girl on an island two-hundred-eighty miles long sounded far worse than plastering, but for the sake of better relations with the queen, Opsie stifled her sigh. “Thank you.”

Verhailey had a cleft in his chin and scar on his jaw, like hers but one-fourth the length. Straighter, too. His flesh had been cut cleanly, not torn, like hers. She would’ve resented his good luck if she wasn’t constantly on guard against jealousy.

Be sure to check out the hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.

A Tiny ‘Urp’ Escaped #mfrwhooks

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Here’s the next hook from my WIP, which follows immediately after last week’s text. When her alien nation’s queen arrives at Opsie Beaverpaw’s under-construction house, she’s a mess after getting plaster on her face. It turns out the queen isn’t alone:

“You didn’t say you were with someone.” Opsie stood back to let him pass. Maturity, combined with nineteen years, two months and eleven days of disfigurement, hadn’t quite managed to eradicate her youthful conceit; she was tempted to rub more plaster off her cheek, or at least turn her good side toward him.

But on this particular day she felt more cussedness than conceit. She kept her scars toward him.

She revised her initial dislike of him. She approved of his barrel-chested physique and square jaw. All the more reason for him to see the worst of her, to warn him off, so she kept her scars toward him.

Her voice was calm as she said, “Please sit.” She extended her hand toward the newcomer. “I’m Duchess Beaverpaw.”

He shook her hand with a firm, determined grip. “Matthew Verhailey,” he said in an American accent. “From Portland.”

When he left go of her hand, plaster smeared his fingers.

Opsie stifled her giggle, though a tiny urp did escape.

For what it’s worth, I wrote enough words to “win” Camp NaNoWriMo. 51179 words are nothing to sneeze at, and I would’t have written that many without my camp-mates, especially Coleen and Paula — but to declare myself a “winner” seems pretentious. I didn’t actually finish the book.

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Still, I’m close enough to have a decent feel for the book’s finishability, which is excellent. My guess is that I’ll have the first draft  done in 2-3 weeks. It’ll be interesting to see what beta readers say, because the structure and time-frame are a bit more complex that my usual straightforward narratives.

Be sure to check out the hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.

Effing Feline disdains maps #8Sunday

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I, Effing Feline, don’t need a map to find my food bowl. So what use are maps, anyway? To cats, no use at all.

[image error]Nonetheless, I suppose I should have explained the map I showed last week.

Kwadra is an alternate Earth’s Vancouver Island. The Kwadrans “hopped” their island to our Earth when the environment of their planet became so polluted and globally warmed that it was close to uninhabitable. Now there are two identical islands off the west coast. Ed’s WIP, the 5th book in his Alien Contact for Idiots series, takes placed on Kwadra, the “island that doesn’t exist yet.”

Audra Verhailey, a runaway young mother, flees with her baby from Oregon to Kwadra Island. Penniless and hungry, she accepts the help of a Kwadran construction worker she doesn’t know. Now she’s having second thoughts . . . third thoughts . . . fourth thoughts. She tells him defiantly that she won’t have sex with him, no matter how helpful he’s being.

“Did you hear me?” Her voice was shrill, tremulous, and loud enough that Roxie stirred, but went back to sleep. “Not even a blowjob,” she finished in a fierce whisper.

But as soon as she spoke, she realized she’d stumbled onto something. She’d give him the best damned blowjob ever, if that was the price for her life. She had to stay alive for Roxie’s sake. Had to.

Instead of answering, the guy tormented her by watching his step as he climbed over a fallen tree trunk half as wide as she was tall. Expecting his gaze to rake her body, her knees weakened with fear as she looked around for a hiding place. Her boobs, if nothing else, were ogle-worthy. Nursing a seven-month old had done pleasant, but now unfortunate, things to her bra size.

Effing Feline here again. I’d like to have a map to all the best catnip patches in a ten-mile radius of the house. No, make that a one-mile radius. I am NOT lazy, no matter what Ed claims, but I am, shall we say . . . efficient.

What kind of map would you like to  have? While you’re thinking about that, be sure to visit the other writers in Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

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Here are the other books in the Alien Contact for Idiots series. Although part of a series, each story stands alone, so you can start with any book.

[image error]Alien Contact for Idiots

(4.2 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

What’s a woman going to do when she’s quarantined with an out-of-this-world alien?

This book has heroic cats who torment the villain!

[image error]Alien Contact for Kid Sisters

(4.6 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

Fleeing murderous rebels, the queen’s sister finds a hero to save her. Or is he kidnapping her, instead?

 

[image error]Newborn

(4.7 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She was born to kill. Not love.

 

 

[image error]Rescuing Prince Charming

(4.6 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She’s no heroine. He’s no prince charming.

This one features Priscilla the cat in a major role, which makes it Ed’s best book yet!

A Scarred Duchess #MFRWAuthor #MFRWhooks

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Sorry for missing last week! Two weeks ago, shared a passage from book two of my Camp NaNoWriMo WIP. The MS is proceeding very well, and though I doubt I’ll finish by the 30th, I should come pretty close. Woohoo!

For a variety of non-authorial reason, I’ve been in a major slump the last year and a half. This will be the first manuscript I’ve written from beginning to end in that stretch of time. For comparison purposes, I wrote and put out three books in 2016. Sigh.

A fortnight ago, I introduced Opsie Beaverpaw, an alien duchess with a badly scarred face. (FYI, this is a near-future science fiction romance.) It’ll be no surprise to you folks that the psychological effect of the scar is the wound she needs to overcome.

When her nation’s queen arrives at Opsie’s under-construction house, she’s mess after getting plaster on her face. Opsie may be a duchess, but that doesn’t mean she’s rich and privileged.

“It’s me, Queen Elinor,” said the voice through the door, “I’m here to see you.”

Opsie grabbed a paper towel and rubbed her cheek. No mirrors were up yet, so she bent down to see her reflection in the glass covering a desktop picture of her mother, uncles, aunts, nine cousins, and her, back when she was young and still pretty. “Can you give me a moment?”

“Only one. I’m in a hurry.”

Opsie got most of the plaster off, but her right cheek wasn’t smooth. White streaks stuck in the rough, jagged scars that ran from cheekbone to jaw, highlighting her deformity. If this room had a tap, she could wash the plaster off. But it didn’t and she couldn’t.

She straightened. As she faced the mess the plaster had made of her ruined cheek, anger boiled up. She stomped to the door and put her hand on the knob, but paused. Tamping down her anger but defiantly positioning her plastery scars toward the door, she opened it. “Come in, please.”

“Thanks.” Queen Elinor stood back and waved a companion to precede her into the office. It was a man: a tall, dark, and handsome stranger who glanced too long at Opsie’s scars before meeting her eyes.

She disliked him already.

It isn’t the way I usually work, but here I am, 80% done, and I still haven’t decided on a title! That’s very annoying, I assure  you. However, I do know that it’s the fifth book in my Alien Contact for Idiots sci fi romance series

Be sure to check out the book hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.

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Effing Feline wishes for . . . ?

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I, Effing Feline, think that the saying “Be careful what you wish for” applies only to humans, not cats. For example, Mrs Valentine (Ed’s wife) wished for cool weather during her recent trip from Arizona to Toronto to visit the two sons who live there. What she got was freezing rain, snow, and frigid temperatures. Be careful what you wish for!

But it’s different for cats. I wish for a pound of fresh salmon and four tokes of catnip every day. What could possibly go wrong?

[image error]Here’s another snippet from Ed’s WIP, the 5th book in his Alien Contact for Idiots series.

Audra Verhailey, a runaway young mother, flees with her baby from Oregon to Kwadra Island, which native Americans from an alternate Earth have ‘hopped’ to our Earth. She’s so desperate that she accepts the help of a Kwadran construction worker she doesn’t know. Now she’s having second thoughts . . . third thoughts . . . fourth thoughts.

Everybody, or at least every woman, knew that a guy who abandoned work to help a total stranger was damned suspicious; he must want something from her.

He’d gotten back in his truck and drove them into the wilderness for nearly an hour, then hiked up this mountain with her. He even carried her backpack, heavy with diapers, toys, formula, baby food, a single change of clothes for herself, two flashlights, and, heaviest of all, sixty-four size-AAA batteries.

And now, as Audra hurried to catch up to him, she prayed the something he wanted wasn’t her in an unmarked grave.

It was theoretically possible he was greatest gentleman alive, but as Kwadrans like him said, hah to that. He was a guy, so threats were more likely than gentlemanly manners. Her bootleg map indicated this mountainside was roughly where she needed to be — but there was nobody around for miles to hear cries for help. That made her the most naive idiot still breathing . . . at least for a while.

And it was nobody’s fault but her own.

She’d told herself over and over not to trust muscular, macho guys, but after puzzling over a map written in an alien language, with a dollar and eighteen cents in her purse and half of yesterday’s banana in her belly, she’d felt so desperate that she’d gone and trusted him anyway.

Effing Feline here again. This lady wishes this dude will help her, not hurt her — but remember, humans should be careful what they wish for. Is there anything you wish for that might end badly?

I promise it won’t end badly if you visit the other writers in Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

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Here are the other books in the Alien Contact for Idiots series. Although part of a series, each story stands alone, so you can start with any book.

[image error]Alien Contact for Idiots

(4.2 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

What’s a woman going to do when she’s quarantined with an out-of-this-world alien?

This book has heroic cats who torment the villain!

[image error]Alien Contact for Kid Sisters

(4.6 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

Fleeing murderous rebels, the queen’s sister finds a hero to save her. Or is he kidnapping her, instead?

 

[image error]Newborn

(4.7 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She was born to kill. Not love.

 

 

[image error]Rescuing Prince Charming

(4.6 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She’s no heroine. He’s no prince charming.

This one features Priscilla the cat in a major role, which makes it Ed’s best book yet!

Effing Feline prefers *fresh* salmon

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I, Effing Feline, talked last week about whether my potent feline allergens made any of my fans itch over the Internet. Today I’d like to talk about something I’m allergic to.

Cat food.

Oh, it doesn’t make my body itch or anything like that. But it does make my pride itch. Sneeze, even. I am worthy, you must agree, of eating salmon (fresh, not canned) every day. Except, of course, when I want mahi-mahi or swordfish as a change of pace.[image error]

Another snippet today from Ed’s WIP, which now has a (very tentative) working title: The Man She Trusted, book five in his Alien Contact for Idiots sci fi romance series. He hopes to finish it during Camp NaNoWriMo this month. Yeah, right. We’ll see about that.

In last week’s snippet, Audra Verhailey said out of the blue to her alien companion: “I don’t care how helpful you’re being, I’m not having sex with you.” Today’s snippet continues from there.

This was the first time either of them had spoken during forty minutes of climbing through a dense yet kinda sickly evergreen forest. She’d been meaning to state her terms for at least thirty-nine of those minutes, ever since they started up this mountain. But the steep trail and his damned silence had robbed her of words.

He was being so over-the-top helpful that he obviously wanted something from her. All she had was her baby and her body, and of those two she assumed that he, well . . . .

She’d met him when he climbed out of a construction company pickup near where she was sitting with a map spread out on dirt that would one day be a paved street, or a sidewalk. Maybe a house. She remembered thinking they might have to build whatever-it-was around her dead body, because she was at the end of her hopes, almost quivering with despair.

And then came an unexpected ray of not-despair. Baby Roxie smiled up at this stranger and dropped the keys Audra had given her to play with, and instead of pretending he hadn’t seen, he picked them up, then let Roxie play at grabbing his finger.

Effing Feline here again. Is there anything that makes your pride itch or sneeze? Tell us about it in a comment, and be sure to visit the other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

Duplicates, duplicates #mfrwhooks

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I’ve come up with a working title for the sci fi romance WIP I shared last week: The Man She Trusted. I hope to finish a first draft during Camp NaNoWriMo this month. Because I’m sharing bits and pieces both here and elsewhere, I’m skipping to chapter two. To avoid duplication, you know.

Which is ironic, because in the book, the 23rd century Native Americans of Kwadra Island have hopped a duplicate of Vancouver Island from an alternate Earth to ours to escape their world’s environmental collapse.

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Their most pressing need: housing on the island’s surface, because they lived underground for decades in order to survive. Even the nobility get in on the construction boom.

Opsie Beaverpaw, duchess of Kwadra’s Beaver Clan, was bored. That was the main reason she was trying to finish plastering the walls of her office-to-be. And doing a lousy — no, control the perfectionism — doing a mediocre job of it.

When the comm link in her implant pinged, startling her, she jerked her cheek against fresh plaster. “Damn.”

“Well, same to you, Opsie.”

She froze in the act of rubbing plaster off her cheek. She’d accidentally turned on her implant’s mic? Double damn. “Uh . . . Queen Elinor?”

“Who else would you respond to with damn?”

The implant didn’t handle chuckles well, but Opsie thought the queen sounded amused. That was good, because although Elinor seemed friendly — on the surface at least — the two of them had a history. Or rather, Opsie had a history with her husband, the king. They’d been lovers before Elinor came along.

So . . . awkward, as always. The queen had every right to wonder if that expletive had been intentional. She knew about the powerful friendship and affection that lingered between king and duchess.

Since this is a WIP, feel free to make suggestions — especially about the title. Does it sound at all romancy to you?

And be sure to check out the book hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.

Effing Feline sends you allergens #8Sunday

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I, Effing Feline, was delighted last week when people complained about me ending my selections from Ed’s sci fi romance, Rescuing Prince Charming, on a cliffhanger. You see, I’m not one of those spineless lap cats who seek only to please. No way! The laps I prefer belong to:

People who hate cats.
People who are allergic to cats.

And so, whether you like it or not, I’m switching to Ed’s newest piece of trash. (I call it trash because, unlike Rescuing Prince Charming, it is cat-less and hence worthless.) This new sci fi romance currently has no title, though it’ll be Book Five in the Alien Contact for Idiots series. He hopes to finish it during Camp NaNoWriMo this month, but he’s such a slow writer that I’m sure he’ll fail.

Time: Five years from next mid-summer day.

Place: A forest on a Pacific Northwest island that doesn’t exist . . . yet.

“I don’t care how helpful you’re being,” Audra Verhailey panted with as much defiant dignity as she could muster, “I’m not having sex with you.”

Her lanky, dark-skinned guide — an honest-to-God alien from another world, though he looked like someone you’d meet on an Indian Reservation — slowed his stride. With a faraway expression, as though absorbed in contemplating something on a distant planet, he glanced at her. Then he resumed climbing.

Scowling, she followed. If he got too far away, she’d have to shout, and that might wake Roxie, the best baby on this Earth. The least the alien bastard could do was stop to listen to her.

Effing Feline here again. Are any of you allergic to cats? If so, does reading my posts make your nose itch? I hope so. I want my felininity to be so powerful it sends allergens even across the Internet!

While you’re scratching your nose, be sure to visit the other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

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I’m sure you aren’t interested, but the other books in the Alien Contact for Idiots series are shown here. Although part of a series, each book can stand alone, so you can start anywhere in the series.

If you’ve read any of them but haven’t posted reviews, do you think you can scrounge enough time for at least a short one?

[image error]Alien Contact for Idiots

(4.2 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

What’s a woman going to do when she’s quarantined with an out-of-this-world alien?

This book has heroic cats who torment the villain!

[image error]Alien Contact for Kid Sisters

(4.6 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

Fleeing murderous rebels, the queen’s sister finds a hero to save her. Or is he kidnapping her, instead?

No cats. Yawn.

[image error]Newborn

(4.7 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She was born to kill. Not love.

Not even one little kitten. How can anyone stand to read this stuff?

[image error]Rescuing Prince Charming

(4.7 stars out of 5 on Amazon)

She’s no heroine. He’s no prince charming.

This one features Priscilla the cat in a major role, which makes it Ed’s best book yet!

Untitled Book Five #mfrwhooks

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In recent posts to Book Hooks, I said I had not one but two WIPs underway. I also said that for me, writing two projects is insanely unwise. Well, one of the two  has withered away, and it’s the one I’ve been sharing.

So I’m switching to the other WIP, which currently has no title, though it will be Book Five in my Alien Contact for Idiots series. I hope to finish it during Camp NaNoWriMo this month, but I’m a slow writer. Here’s the very opening:

Time: Five years from next mid-summer day.

Place: A forest on a Pacific Northwest island that doesn’t exist . . . yet.

“I don’t care how helpful you’re being,” Audra Verhailey panted with as much defiant dignity as she could muster, “I’m not having sex with you.”

Her lanky, dark-skinned guide — an honest-to-God alien from another world, though he looked like someone you’d meet on an Indian Reservation — stopped in mid-stride. He tipped his head to one side and stared at her as though contemplating . . . something. Then he resumed climbing.

Scowling, she followed. If he got too far away, she’d have to shout, and that might wake Roxie, the best baby in the world. The least the alien bastard could do was stop to listen to her.

Her words had been first that either of them had spoken during thirty minutes of climbing through a dense yet kinda pathetic evergreen forest. She’d been meaning to state her terms for at least twenty-nine of those minutes, ever since they started up this damned mountain. But his silence and the steep trail had robbed her of words.

He was being so over-the-top helpful that he obviously wanted something from her. All she had was her baby and her body, and of those two she assumed that he, well . . .

Since this is a WIP, feel free to make suggestions. And be sure to check out the book hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.

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I’ve shared this elsewhere, but in case you haven’t seen it, I’ve got to share. Normally I don’t care much for ballet, and normally I don’t play my oboe to accompany ballets — but next weekend I’ll be in the pit with an orchestra for Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty.

One of the high points for me is the extended oboe solo for the Puss in Boots and White Cat dance — and this version of the dance is both beautiful and freakin’ hilarious. Enjoy!

 

Effing Feline lusts after the white cat

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I, Effing Feline, endure a plethora of problematic, possibly painful possibilities. Case in point: Ed (Mr V, my pet human) plays the oboe. All you need to know about the oboe is that it’s LOUD.[image error]

But lately he’s been practicing some music I love. Next week, his group will be in the pit for a live performance of Sleeping Beauty Ballet by some dude named Chai . . . cough . . . ski.  One of the dances features a long oboe solo about A CAT.

Suddenly I like the oboe.

Don’t tell Ed, but I’m getting tired of choosing snippets from his science fiction romance, Rescuing Prince Charming. This may be the last one. Or it may not.

Dusty Johnson and Reese, her alien companion, heroically got rid of a saboteur’s bomb. Soaring on adrenaline-fueled lust, he drags her into the big boss’s office, where they enjoy a quickie without getting caught. In this snippet, a Kwadran duke explains the bomb incident to the assembled workers on the spaceship project — but he gives Dusty all the credit, and none to Reese. (Edited from the released text.)

Shocked that the duke hadn’t mentioned Reese’s role, Dusty turned to him. “Wait a minute,” she cried, “this brave man did as much as I. More. Tell them, Reese.”

“I assisted.”

“No, no, I’d be dead without Reese…” She paused and turned toward him, saying, “What’s your last name?”

He dipped his chin as though apologizing; “Eaglesbrood,” he whispered to her alone.

“Eaglesbrood,” she repeated for the crowd to hear. For a nanosecond, the name meant nothing.

Then it meant everything, all of it bad.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

Effing Feline here again. Here’s the delightful dance of Puss in Boots and the sexxxy White Cat. Sigh.

Unless you spend the rest of the day replaying this video (I know I will!) be sure to visit the other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday. And oh yeah — Happy Easter.

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Ed has teamed up with 55+ fantastic authors to give away a huge collection of paranormal & sci-fi romances to 2 lucky winners, PLUS a brand new e-Reader to the Grand Prize winner! Oh, and did I mention you’ll receive a collection of FREE e-books just for entering?

You can win my novel Rescuing Prince Charming, plus books from authors like Kathy Lyons and D.D. Miers.

Enter the giveaway by clicking the picture below.

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