Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 45
March 26, 2018
Vintage Effing Feline – He’s hissed
Originally published March 21, 2015
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Quick quiz. Who the heck is Effing Feline?
Blogger on Ed Hoornaert’s blog
A Narcissistic nuisance
The world’s most literary cat
The wildly popular legend in his own mind
All of the above
Effing is a larger than life character (especially around the belly). In case you missed him, Mondays now feature some of Effing’s cattiest moments.
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Meow hiss merrow!
That’s Cat for I’m mad!
Last week Mr. Valentine (aka Edward Hoornaert) was busy and so gave me, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, complete editorial control. He wasn’t happy about my spelling. He was particularly upset by “He ISnt’ not even goinna eddit mee.” I just don’t see the problem. You all understood what I meant, right?
Anyway, he’s put me on a short leash. And he’s gonna edit me again. As I said before, meow hiss merrow!
Here are eight more sentences from Mr. V’s new science fiction romance, Alien Contact for Idiots.
Seattle biologist Ell Harmon has been quarantined with Prince Tro Eaglesbrood, the leader of aliens who ‘hopped’ their entire island nation from an alternate version of Earth, and now they are going to broadcast an interview, hoping to sooth the world’s fears about the invaders from the future. Ell agrees to do the broadcast, even though she feel inadequate because she’s a scientist, not a TV personality:
“Okay.” In case he didn’t understand, Ell added, “I’ll try.”
“Not merely try, achieve.”
“You sound like Yoda,” she muttered.
“This Yoda is a wise man,” Tro said, “and together, we can do anything.”
“He’s a puppet.”
“Pardon?”
“A puppet; Yoda is just a darned puppet.”
Us cats hate leashes. They’re for lower life forms. You know, like dogs.
[I’m inserting this in the middle of the night, one of the advantages of being nocturnal] Do me a favor–DON’T buy Alien Contact for Idiots. That’ll teach Mr. V!
March 24, 2018
Effing Feline hates palm sundays #8sunday
I, Effing Feline, heard that today is Palm Sunday. Since Mr V has a palm tree out front, and because I am a Cat of Great Curiosity, I decided to sample this holy treat. I got a palm frond . . .
. . . and some ice cream . . .
. . . and I’m going to enjoy my treat while you folks read today’s snippet from Mr V’s science fiction romance, Rescuing Prince Charming. Yum!
Dusty Johnson and her mysterious alien companion acted heroically in getting rid of a saboteur’s bomb. Soaring on adrenaline-fueled lust, they need privacy to, shall we say, ‘bond more intimately.’ He pulls her into the empty office of the starship project’s Big Boss.
“We should go,” Dusty whispered, “or we’ll get into trouble.”
“You, the heroine? If you kicked the Kwadran prince’s stomach, he’d still kiss you on all four cheeks and give you a medal.”
Dusty’s chest and neck grew warm; blushes always started there before turning her cheeks apple red. “We can’t hide in here forever. What are we going to do?”
He said nothing, just stared with an intense, masculine gaze. Oh, yeah; they would finish what they’d come here to do. Celebrating with quickie sex—it would have to be quick or they’d get caught—would be wildly indiscreet, of course. Perfect.
Effing Feline here again. I hate hate hate palm sundaes! Yuck! Blech!
Visit other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, or I’ll make you eat a Palm Sundae!
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Rescuing Prince Charming: A Native American Sci-Fi Romance
She’s no heroine. He’s no Prince Charming.
[image error]Dusty Johnson, a self-styled ordinary, everyday woman, responds with extraordinary heroism when saboteurs try to bomb the prototype of Earth’s first starship. Although she yearns to return to anonymity, that moment of courage propels her ever deeper into dangers that tear the scabs off her dark secrets—and thrust her into the arms of the unattainable man of her dreams.
Reese Eaglesbrood, an alien prince, yearns to restore his tattered reputation by guiding the starship project to completion, but his fascination with the unassuming heroine threatens to undermine his fragile authority. Shunning Dusty is necessary, yet unthinkable—and when the saboteurs strike again, she is his only ally against Earth’s most elusive enemies.
Rescue your own prince charming at these fine outlets:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Apple iTunes
Kobo Books
Smashwords
March 20, 2018
Fisherman’s Favorite Pudding #mfrwhooks
As I’ve said here before, I currently have not one but two WIPs undersay. Sigh. Given the way I work, that’s terribly unwise — but while I usually hold sway over my Muse, sometimes she throws me curve balls and strikes out my commonsense.
I’m continuing with the opening of my sci-fi romance/adventure tentatively titled Secrets of Love and War. Cynthia O’Connor is a human who has been adopted into an alien clan (called a familium). Last week I ended with these lines:
She splashed to the cold, soft mud, landing on her backside with face raised to the war-torn heavens. Explosions blossomed here and there, cute little fireflies that vanished as quickly as they came.
Picking up from there:
High in the sky, a bird—no, it was a plane—burst into flame and fell in pieces. More sonic booms exploded as an unseen enemy invaded the peaceful planet.
“So soon?” Kaushelle screamed. “Your people reach us so soon?”
Cynthia pulled one hand from the muck’s embrace, then the other, dripping a torrent of muddy water as she scrambled upright. “They aren’t my people. You are.”
“But the conflict is about your home world, not here. War was promised never to reach the capital.” The screech of sirens and the pounding of explosions put the lie to that promise. “What do we do, what do we do?”
Yes, what to do? For several heart-thumping moments, the dissonance of war drove thought from Cynthia’s mind. Then, as though thinking through gooey Fisherman’s Favorite pudding, she groped toward the only honorable goal.
Her public job was Planter Third Class, but her private role had always been childcare. In selfish moments, she daydreamed of saving a child to repay her familium. And maybe, just maybe, to prove she could graduate to adult tasks.
So save Kaushelle. Get the girl to safety.
Her daydreams, though, were always quieter and less dangerous.
Be sure to check out the book hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.
FYI, I currently have two books available for free on Instafreebie. Check them out:
[image error] Future Love
A spaceman wins the woman of his dreams … but it’s too late. A crook invents a new form of pornography … but it teaches him about love, not sex. A man pursues his beloved beyond death … but finds only the evil in his own heart.
Seize tomorrow today – get Future Love.
[image error] Rescuing Prince Charming
She’s a tech writer who watches life from the sidelines. He’s a disgraced alien prince. Aren’t they the last pair you’d want defending Earth’s one and only starship?
Edward Hoornaert’s near-future romance, Rescuing Prince Charming, continues his delightful Alien Contact for Idiots series. Rescue your very own Prince Charming today.
March 19, 2018
Vintage Effing Feline – He’s a star!
Originally published March 1, 2015
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Quick quiz. Who the heck is Effing Feline?
Blogger on Ed Hoornaert’s blog
A Narcissistic nuisance
The world’s most literary cat
The wildly popular legend in his own mind
All of the above
In case you missed him, Mondays now feature some of Effing’s cattiest moments.
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Mr. Valentine (aka Edward Hoornaert) is too @!^ lazy to do his own work and made me, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, introduce his latest excerpt for the weekend
Now that I’ve done a few of these eight sentence Sunday posts, I, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline (Effing Feline for short), am a star! That’s what Mr. Valentine, aka Edward Hoornaert, says–and he has no reason to lie, right?
Unless he’s trying to trick me into doing his job. Think that’s possible? Hmm.
No–with my charisma, I am definitely a star!
So I’m gonna write another blog post, which is hard work with paws instead of fingers. In my sublime feline wisdom, I’ve chosen a selection from Mr. V’s upcoming release (March 12, 2015), Alien Contact for Idiots, a near-future science fiction romance.
A duplicate of Vancouver Island mysteriously appears overnight. After Ell Harmon, a Seattle biologist, is sent to investigate, she contacts the not-of-our-earth humans on the island. Here she is talking on her cellphone with an army colonel:
“Your pilot tells me,” Colonel Wikstrom bellowed in a parade-ground roar, “that you made contact with the aliens twelve minutes ago. Who the hell authorized such a stupid stunt?”
“The President of the United States.” Which was perhaps an exaggeration, but close enough for government work.
When Wikstrom fell silent, Ell enjoyed imagining him do a double-take. “I’m having one of my men check your claim,” he said, “and if you’re lying to me, ma’am…”
When Wikstrom spoke again, his manner had done a crisp about-face. “Have you learned anything yet?” he asked politely.
Wanna help out a hardworking cat?? Add a comment or like this post. I get one cat treat for each likeand two for each comment. So please, purrty please…
Until next time, merow. (That’s Cat-talk for “feed me or else.”)
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March 17, 2018
Effing Feline is shattered #8sunday
I, Effing Feline, am shattered. Struck down. Disconsolate.
Last week I tried unsuccessfully to share my revulsion for people who love dogs, not cats. Imagine my horror when Mr Valentine (Ed H, my pet human) confessed that HE IS NOT A CAT PERSON!!! He loves both cat and dogs, if you can imagine such a perverted bestiality. What a disgusting revelation!
But even in my horror-struck condition, I’m posting a snippet is from Mr V’s science fiction romance, Rescuing Prince Charming. Isn’t that brave and wonderful of me?
Dusty Johnson and her mysterious alien companion acted heroically in getting rid of a saboteur’s bomb. Soaring on adrenaline-fueled lust, they need privacy to, shall we say, ‘bond more intimately.’ He pulls her into the first office they come to. But she protests:
“I guess you don’t know your way around yet, but Cho is the head of this project, a stuck-up Kwadran countess, and she won’t like it one bit if we—”
The door’s click as it shut made her jump. The empty room hunkered in shadows that washed out all color and turned his body into a large and very masculine silhouette.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” she whispered. “I tell you, this is Countess Cho’s office.”
“Cho has been removed as the head of the project.”
“I’ve heard that rumor, but she still may be around to finish packing. Even if she’s gone, this is the office of whoever’s taking her place. The big boss.”
“Does being in here with me make you feel naughty?”
[image error]Effing Feline here again. I’m considering moving to a home where CAT PEOPLE and only CAT PEOPLE live. Do any of you cat people in the audience have a private room with en suite litter box and ultra-fast internet available for a handsome, dominant tomcat? An infestation of mice is a plus, but not required. I won’t charge you much for the honor of my presence.
While you’re debating whether you’re good enough to become my pet, please visit other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.
[image error]
Rescuing Prince Charming: A Native American Sci-Fi Romance
She’s no heroine. He’s no Prince Charming.
[image error]Dusty Johnson, a self-styled ordinary, everyday woman, responds with extraordinary heroism when saboteurs try to bomb the prototype of Earth’s first starship. Although she yearns to return to anonymity, that moment of courage propels her ever deeper into dangers that tear the scabs off her dark secrets—and thrust her into the arms of the unattainable man of her dreams.
Reese Eaglesbrood, an alien prince, yearns to restore his tattered reputation by guiding the starship project to completion, but his fascination with the unassuming heroine threatens to undermine his fragile authority. Shunning Dusty is necessary, yet unthinkable—and when the saboteurs strike again, she is his only ally against Earth’s most elusive enemies.
Rescue your own prince charming at these fine outlets:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Apple iTunes
Kobo Books
Smashwords
March 13, 2018
Cute little fireflies #mfrwhooks
I’m back after an noticeable absence from the weekly Hooks blog hop. Forgive me for being missing in action.
I currently have not one but two WIPs. Given the way I work, that’s terribly unwise — but while I usually hold sway over my Muse, sometimes she throws me curve balls and strikes out my commonsense. I’m continuing with the opening of my sci-fi romance/adventure tentatively titled Secrets of Love and War. The first draft is done and some of the rewrites. Last time I was part of this meme, I ended with these lines:
Childish game forgotten, Cynthia looked around for danger, saw none, then searched for the source of the sound, which echoed off the cliffs. The sky held only high, thin clouds, so it couldn’t have been thunder. No smoke mushroomed into the sky, so it wasn’t an explosion.
Picking up from there:
A sonic boom?
More likely, two simultaneous booms. She’d grown up with those nerve-shattering bellows at Dad’s pub near the spaceport on Kinsle-Tilene, the home world she shuddered to think of. But here? Not even incoming spaceships were allowed to create sonic booms over this hemisphere, for fear they’d ruin Rixolla Conurbation’s calm ambience of ancient, civilized beauty.
As she turned to reassure Kaushelle, another shattering burst demolished all thoughts. Then a third, fourth, fifth, sixth tore through Cynthia’s ears, until she lost count and the lagoon’s placid calm vanished as an army of ripples goose-stepped over it.
And that could mean only one thing.
“War comes!” shrieked Kaushelle. She hunched over and covered her earpads with saucer-like hands. Rixids’ ears were less sensitive than humans’, but adolescence was just as insecure an age for them as for humans.
Cynthia reached for Kaushelle’s arm but lost her balance, instead. She splashed to the cold, soft mud, landing on her backside with face raised to the war-torn heavens. Explosions blossomed here and there, cute little fireflies that vanished as quickly as they came.
Yes, the hero of the tale has arrived . . . but I bet you couldn’t have expected him to arrive this way. Be sure to check out the book hooks by other great writers in the Book Hooks blog hop.
March 12, 2018
Vintage Effing Feline – doesn’t care what folks think
Originally published March 7, 2015
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Quick quiz. Who the heck is Effing Feline?
Blogger on Ed Hoornaert’s blog
A Narcissistic nuisance
The world’s most literary cat
The wildly popular legend in his own mind
All of the above
Effing started out as an anonymous picture for which readers could write their own captions, but he has since grown into a larger than life character (especially around the belly). In case you missed him, Mondays now feature some of Effing’s cattiest moments.
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Welcome back, humans. It’s me, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline introducing another excerpt for the weekend writing warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday.
My nickname is Effing Feline. Mr. Valentine (aka Edward Hoornaert) tells me that ‘effing’ has naughty connotations. Like I care, right? I’m a cat, after all. I don’t care what anyone thinks.
I’m still choosing selections from Alien Contact for Idiots, a near-future science fiction romance slated for release March 12. This one’s a continuation of last week’s post.
A duplicate of Vancouver Island mysteriously appears overnight. After Ell Harmon, a Seattle biologist, is sent to investigate, she contacts the not-of-our-earth humans on the island. Here she talks on her cellphone with an army colonel, admitting a mistake while the aliens’ leader, Tro Eaglesbrood, looks on:
“I made a dumb mistake–I shook hands with two Kwadrans, and you know what that means.”
“Uh,” Wikstrom said, “they’re polite?”
“An exchange of germs.” She turned to Tro and said, “Do you know what germs are?”
“Of course I do,” Wikstrom said. “Just because I’m in the army doesn’t mean I’m—”
“Not you,” Ell said. “I’m talking to a Kwadran, so please wait, Colonel.”
Until next time, purr. (That’s Iranian-cat-talk for arrogant satisfaction.)
March 8, 2018
Effing Feline doesn’t love dog lovers #Sunday
I, Effing Feline, wish Brett a happy birthday! Brett is the third of Mr V’s four children, and his petting hand is gentle and loving, even if he’s a dog person. There. I’ve done my familial duty. Now I can tell you my REAL feelings about dog people!
I feel that —
Sigh.
Once again, I’m continuing with a snippet is from Mr V’s science fiction romance, Rescuing Prince Charming. During the most harrowing — and exciting — ten minutes of Dusty Johnson’s life, she and her mysterious alien companion found a saboteurs’ time bomb, carried it out of the prototype starship, and tossed it into the ocean, where it exploded harmlessly. The bomb may be gone, but their adrenaline isn’t. They embrace, and it’s more than simple hug. They’re going to be naughty.
As she stepped into Wiki’s warmth, the warning klaxon died, leaving silence echoing through the huge grotto. She’d never seen it so empty, which reinforced the dreamlike sense that this moment was different from all others and couldn’t be judged by normal standards. Laughing, she twisted in his arms and strained to look up at his face. It was a great face, an interesting blend of Native American and Asian genes. It was a hero’s face — her hero.
The nearest privacy lay deeper in the cave, where the workers’ offices and residences were, but they’d never make it before Security returned. Wasting this euphoria seemed like a tragedy.
“Come,” he said.
“Great idea,” she murmured, even though she didn’t do double entendres. Well, not usually; she was a technical writer, a woman who chose words that could be interpreted only one way.
Effing Feline here again. I hate it when Mr V censors me . . . but then I guess I can’t be too mad at him. He started a wonderful new segment: Vintage Effing Feline. Be sure to check it out!
(And oh yeah, visit other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.)
Ed wants me to tell you that he’s super busy this weekend — in addition to the Tucson Festival of Books, he also has to play two concerts with his symphony orchestra. I’m sure you care about this boring things as little as I do. Be warned that he may be later than usual at visiting your posts, but as usual, he’ll comment on everyone.
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Rescuing Prince Charming: A Native American Sci-Fi Romance
She’s no heroine. He’s no Prince Charming.
[image error]Dusty Johnson, a self-styled ordinary, everyday woman, responds with extraordinary heroism when saboteurs try to bomb the prototype of Earth’s first starship. Although she yearns to return to anonymity, that moment of courage propels her ever deeper into dangers that tear the scabs off her dark secrets—and thrust her into the arms of the unattainable man of her dreams.
Reese Eaglesbrood, an alien prince, yearns to restore his tattered reputation by guiding the starship project to completion, but his fascination with the unassuming heroine threatens to undermine his fragile authority. Shunning Dusty is necessary, yet unthinkable—and when the saboteurs strike again, she is his only ally against Earth’s most elusive enemies.
Rescue your own prince charming at these fine outlets:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Apple iTunes
Kobo Books
Smashwords
March 5, 2018
Vintage Effing Feline — Heroic space cat
Originally published February 15, 2015
[image error]
Quick quiz. Who the heck is Effing Feline?
The world’s most literary cat
Blogger on Ed Hoornaert’s blog
A Narcissistic nuisance
A wildly popular legend in his own mind
All of the above
In case you missed him, Mondays now feature some of Effing’s cattiest moments. Here’s the first blog post he ever wrote for Weekend Writing Warriors.
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Mr. Valentine (aka Edward Hoornaert) is too @!^ lazy to do his own work and made me, Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, introduce his latest excerpt for the weekend writing warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday. Work, work work.
I wanted to write my own eight sentences about a heroic Space Cat, but have you ever tried to type with fingerless paws? Stupid #&^*% human-centric keyboards.
In my sublime feline wisdom, I’ve chosen a selection from Mr. Hoornaert’s upcoming release (March, 2015), Alien Contact for Idiots, a near-future science fiction romance. The thing I like best about this book is that there are several cats, each of whom steals the scenes they’re in. Case in point, this perfect puss who gives a hard time to the villain, David Winston, when he returns home from working at the White House.
[image error]Oh yeah, the hall lamp burned out yesterday and he hadn’t found time to replace the bulb. David remained in darkness leavened only by a curtained glow from the wall-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room.
“Mearrrr.” An invisible creature rubbed his shin; nothing was more undetectable than a black cat in a dark room. “Meow, meow, meow.” The cat’s impatient cries sounded like NOW, NOW, NOW in capital letters.
“Yes, Whiskers, I’ll feed you, but first let me walk over to—yikes!”
The cat tripped him twice as he stumbled to the kitchenette’s light switch and turned it on.
At this point in the book, David hasn’t decided to kill the heroine and her American Indian prince from an alternate Earth … and yet the cat knows David’s about to turn evil. Us cats, we know things like that. Smart, smart cat…though of course not as smart as me, FF Effing Feline.
March 3, 2018
Effing Feline documents animal cruelty #8Sunday
I, Effing Feline, told you last week about my hard, hard life, having to put up with a seven-month-old baby. To show you what I mean, I’ve found a monstrous video showing some of the torture babies perpetrate on us poor cats. I won’t show you the video until after today’s snippet. You would be too traumatized to read Ed’s little scribblings.
[image error]Once again, the snippet is from Mr V’s science fiction romance, Rescuing Prince Charming. During the most harrowing — and exciting — ten minutes of Dusty Johnson’s life, she and her mysterious alien companion found a saboteurs’ time bomb, carried it out of the prototype starship, and tossed it into the ocean, where it exploded harmlessly. The bomb may be gone, but their adrenaline isn’t. They embrace.
He made no attempt to hide his erection. Instead of being repelled, she pressed her abdomen against him and said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . we’ve got to do something about this.”
She hadn’t consciously decided to have sex. Her body had decided for her, and it didn’t want to waste a micro-second of this intoxicating euphoria. Dusty Johnson, who always planned three steps ahead, was living in the moment. And glorying in it.
“Inside.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the sliding door. “Hurry, before you freeze to death. And before everyone returns and catches you like this.”
Effing Feline here again. Here’s the video I promised you. Are you brave enough to watch these horrors?
When you’ve recovered from the shocking cruelty of this video, visit other writers in the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.
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Important, life-changing
news flash!
I, Effing Feline, am getting a second weekly gig on Ed’s blog!
Check back Monday for “Vintage Effing Feline!”
I’m so excited — and I know you are, too!
So come back here Monday for “Vintage Effing Feline.”
That’s an order!
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Rescuing Prince Charming: A Native American Sci-Fi Romance
From time to time, Ed creates “travel posters” for his science fiction books. Here’s one he just finished for Rescuing Prince Charming.
Some of you may remember the scene where Reese throws the bomb off the balcony into the ocean. This photo of a Vancouver Island fjord, even though it isn’t a Kwadra Island fjord — sorry, but after all, they’re physically they’re the same — may help you visualize Reese’s throw.
Yes, I know there’s a typo, and no, Ed’s not perfect. Unlike me.
Rescue your own prince charming at these fine outlets:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Apple iTunes
Kobo Books
Smashwords
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