Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 80

A maple-syrupy blog post

Since I’m currently vacationing (sorry: holidaying) in Vancouver, here are a few quick items with Canadian connections.

First, a CBC article about the newest find from NASA: the most Earth-like exoplanet yet found. Kepler 452b, as it is euphoniously known, is 1.6 times larger than Earth, which would mean its gravity is about twice that of Earth. Don’t sign me up for a ticket, NASA. I already weigh too much.

NASA finds planet Kepler 452b, part of an Earth-sun twin solar system

Rescuing stranded aliens is a staple of science fiction. E.T. leaps to mind, of course, but there are others. Super 8, for example, and the comedic Paul. Here’s a real-life example of saving an intelligent alien.

Stranded orca saved by volunteers

Want to expand the borders of your science fiction reading? Here’s a great article about Canadian science fiction, with a mention of the magazine that published my first short story: On Spec. If you read the article, you may find you’ve been reading Canucks all along without realizing it!

Science fiction article in the Canadian Encyclopedia

Finally, a link that has nothing to do with science fiction but that’s still pretty darned neat. The town of Fenwick (no relation to the Duchy of Grand Fenwick) recently celebrated the grand re-opening of their downtown, which was designed one of my sons, so all the paving, trees, and planters came off his drawing boards. Congratulations, Brett!

Downtown Fenwick Revitalization Grand Opening Celebration

That’s all, folks. Bye for now from beautiful Vancouver.

If you haven’t visited Vancouver, you’ve missed one of the world’s great cities!

Effing Feline Comes up to Scratch

Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf

I, Effing Feline, am serving penance for scratching the couch last week. Edward Hoornaert, aka Mr. V, insists that I post a funny video of a cat. It’s beneath my dignity, but a cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do.

But first, this snippet from Mr. Valentine’s newest release, Alien Contact for Kid Sisters. In last week’s snippet, Marianne learned that Quinn, whom she now loves, is actually a con-man. But before she could finish confronting him, the murderous rebels attacked and Elfy, the eleven-year-old cousin of the king, gets captured —  but after the battle, Marianne finally has the chance to berate Quinn for his treachery.

“Does a real you even exist,” she spat, “or are you nothing but lies?”

“Lies, me? I’m hurt that you would … I mean … well … yeah … that’s pretty much all I am, lies. This time you’ve pegged the real me.” Quinn filled himself with a deep, dark breath and added, “But still, we need to work together for Elfy’s sake.  If Squitt still has her, we’re her only hope.”

“Truce, then,” Marianne said reluctantly, “but just while we rescue Elfy, or die trying.”

Now why’d she have to add die trying? Especially in such a depressed, fatalistic voice.

Alien Contact for Kid Sisters scored a 4.5 star review at IndieReader.com, which is cool.  Amongst other nice comments, the reviewers say:

“ALIEN CONTACT FOR KID SISTERS is a thrilling science-fiction adventure in the grand tradition of Star Wars, involving an unexpected hero; a bickering, molten-hot romance; and plenty of action.

“The plot is perfectly arched and includes enough elements to keep readers on their toes without over-complicating the narrative. In the alternative reality from which the island of Kwadra “time-hopped,” Native Americans are in power in Canada, so their technology is a mix of Pacific Northwest Native traditions and advanced sci-fi gadgetry, which adds some interesting elements to the plot. The main characters are all expertly drawn, with particularly strong female characters for the genre.”

Effing Feline again. Here’s the undignified cat video I promised you. Sigh.

Bastille Day Excerpt

Okay, I admit it. This excerpt has absolutely nothing to do with either France or Bastille Day, the French national holiday — except for the July 14 date.  (But if you want to learn more about Bastille Day, click the picture below.)

The storming of the Bastille, July 14, 1789

I’m Edward Hoornaert, a multi-published author in several genres. I started out writing contemporary romances for Silhouette, so I’m also known as Mr. Valentine. Welcome to my blog.

This excerpt is from Alien Contact for Idiots, the first book in my Alien Contact series. Aliens have just landed — moved their whole danged homeland to the Pacific near Washington State. The handsome and flirtatious prince of Kwadra Island is trying to convince camera-shy Ell to film an interview with him … right after she called him a sex-fiend. He didn’t understand the idiom, luckily.

“Your vice president reports that your world fears Kwadra’s arrival,” Prince Tro said. “People panic, envisaging the end of the world, or war, or plague.”

“And me making a fool of myself in front of a TV camera is supposed to help?” Ell rubbed sweaty palms on her skirt as she popped to her feet, searching for a way out. There was none. “I’ll do anything else, but not this. I can’t.”

“You wish peace between our peoples, no?”

“More than anything, but—”

“Then you must do this thing.”

Hugging her arms, she paced around the long table. A memory of Alki Point Beach sprang to pungent life. The crowd had throbbed with terror and hostility, assuming an extraterrestrial invasion. So Tro was right, but still … her, on TV? She slipped off her shoes. The carpet was dappled with earth tones like a forest floor, and it soothed her. She finished the circuit in bare feet and then stopped beside Tro.

“Okay.” In case he didn’t understand this use of okay she added, “I’ll try.”

“Not merely try. Achieve!”

“You sound like Yoda,” she muttered.

“This Yoda is a wise man. Together, Ell, you and I can achieve anything.”

“Puppet.”

“Pardon?”

“Yoda is a puppet, not a wise man.”

Grinning, Tro put a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the Arbutus Room. “My role is to reassure and seem friendly. Yours is to ask questions specified by your government and to look, they said, like the girl next door.”

“Girl next door, I can handle that. No, wait. Next door to old Mr. Applebaum the baker, or to an alien from another world? Huge difference.”

Tro chuckled as they climbed the stairs. “The girl who lives next door to me, Delfina, dislikes wearing clothes.”

“That’s what a sex fiend is.” Ell checked the pin holding the top of her blouse closed.

All my books have some humor, but For Idiots has a lighter tone than most.  It’s a bit of a romp, actually. It’s available a whole mess of places:

Amazon
Amazon Canada
Amazon UK
Amazon Australia
Smashwords
Barnes and Noble
Kobo Books
and worldwide in trade paperback

Thanks for dropping by — and sure to read other great excerpts by old and new favorite authors.

Spotlight on Chalvaren Rising

In the spotlight today, a new romantic fantasy release by my good friend, Paula Millhouse. Those of you who follow the Weekend Writing Warriors have seen and enjoyed her posts.  The book is called Chalvaren Rising, and it’s a good one. I first entered Paula’s fantasy worlds a few years ago, so I’ve known and enjoyed Kort, Mia, and Magnus awhile.  Here’s an excerpt:

Colorful dragons filled the afternoon air with squawks and roars of excitement. Kort rubbed Mia’s arms and soothed away the tension in her body. Not only the five dragons with his dragon warriors landed on the beach, but free-flyers squawked, and came in to inspect them too.

Kort pulled Mia close in an embrace and they watched the dragonlet feast on the fishes. “You said Magnus was unique. Are they bowing to him?” Mia asked, leaning forward to watch the interaction between the animals. “He doesn’t look like he belongs to one of the elements. His coloring is different.”

Credit: Photovasc/DepositPhotos.com

Magnus gobbled down fish, his black wings with purple and teal tips closed tight on his back while Garnet the Red strutted nearby, raising his crimson wings in a menacing show, hissing out licks of smoke when one lone coppery-brown Earth Dragon edged too close to the dragonlet.

“There’s a fifth element – the element of the Spirit, Mia. Whereas a Fire Dragon breathes fire as its weapon, and a Wind Dragon can summon great gusts of wind, even tornados, the element of the Spirit connects every living thing. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion he’s the one. Regardless, in time, Magnus will learn who these dragons are, their cause, and how they work to protect the Elves of Castle Elias and our people.”

Mia smirked, and gazed over at the sandy, seaweed-covered dragonlet. “Seems like a lot to shoulder for someone who can barely manage a fish.”

Kort wanted to go speak with them, to interact with the dragons, but first things first—he had to make sure Mia claimed the place he wanted her to occupy. It was his job to properly introduce her to his warriors, men and women both, so there was no misunderstanding of her role.

He timed the kiss well.

Just as the elves dismounted, turned, and made their way across the sand toward them, Kort took Mia in a passionate embrace and kissed her like he meant it. Whether she sensed the importance of the kiss or not didn’t matter; the way she responded to him did.

She went up on her tiptoes and leaned deeper into the kiss than he’d expected, deeper than he’d hoped. Her nonverbal behavior spoke volumes. She was his and, God, he had to admit it, he just wanted to get her back in bed. But that would have to wait, and when he turned to inspect his crew, the effect he’d intended came across clearly in their expressions. The warrior elves stopped dead in their tracks. Jaws gaped. Silence fell across the crowd, quickly followed by whispers, nods, and pointed gestures among the warriors.

Yes, he knew they cast him in the role as the last elf in Chalvaren who’d ever take a mate – he’d refused so many prospective brides surely they wondered if this day would ever come. Yes, he knew he’d take some ragging for the public display of affection, but it was worth it to see their hardened faces soften. Some showed curiosity, some showed relief.

Mia was going to have to prove herself as a worthy princess, sure, but somehow after she’d handled the morning so well he knew she’d handle the role of his princess with fiery verve.

Mia sighed against him and buried her head in his chest. The flush of pink on her face burned his skin, and her pointed ears so close to his lips now made him wet his lips with anticipation. He whispered that he loved her. He liked the idea of having her so close and everyone knowing what she meant to him.

Then he turned her to face the crowd for inspection. He curled his fingers toward his warriors. “Everyone come and meet Mia, and her dragonlet, Magnus.”

Chalvaren Rising is now available for pre-order.

Find the Author here:

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads / Amazon / Boroughs Publishing Group / Pinterest

Effing Feline has itchy paws

Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf

I, Effing Feline, feeling an overwhelming urge to use a scratching post.  Or better yet, the couch. Oh, yeah!

First I have to check whether Ed Hoornaert, aka Mr. Valentine, is watching. Although otherwise a great pet, he cruelly suppresses my scratching instincts.

Goodie! The coast is clear!

Real fast before I go: Here’s today’s snippet from Mr. V’s newest release, Alien Contact for Kid Sisters. While Quinn was healing in a Med Casket that helped him realize his top-most desires, Marianne discovered he isn’t a Royal Guardian, but a con man. Here’s how she reacts.

She pointed the pistol at him. “Stay right there.”

“Marianne, I love you.”

“For once in your sewage-infested life, stop lying.”

“I deserve that, yeah, but I’m a changed man. What do you think my top-most desire in life is?”

“I don’t know and I don’t give a damn—but I’m willing to bet it’s something that’ll help you out of this jam then be forgotten in five minutes.”

“It’s you,” Quinn said, and his eyes glowed as he again held out his arms to her.

Her rage melted around the edges and turned into tears that slipped down her cheeks, because even now, knowing the truth about him, she wanted to believe him, wanted … something. If he touched her, she would shatter.

Alien Contact for Kid Sisters is on sale this weekend for only 99c, yada yada, and check out the other Weekend Writing Warriors, yada yada yada.

Gotta run! Gotta scratch!

SFR Brigade Summer Cafe

Good books and free prizes … what’s not to love about the Science Fiction Romance Brigade’s Summer Cafe?  I’m giving away two $10 Amazon gift cards on this blog, to randomly selected commenters who respond to this:

Although I’m sure you’ve never done anything as embarrassing as Sandrina in the snippet below, tell us one humorous or embarrassing incident from your life.

I’ll  randomly select two winners after midnight Pacific Daylight time on July 12th.  Sorry, no substitutions or cash equivalent.  In addition, the Summer Cafe offers a Rafflecopter giveaway, described at the end of this post.

Here’s the menu:

So, what’s on the menu for breakfast? The following excerpt is from Edward Hoornaert’s The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.

Was this love?

Sandrina hoped not. A defective like her had nothing to offer a heroic man like Duke, so love was out of the question. Infatuation, sure. Sex…well, maybe. Make that absolutely! But love, no.

Whatever she felt, she had to tell Duke before the VIP’s whirlwind visit swept him away from her. When she reached Duke’s quarters, though, the door handle glowed with a red stripe, demonic and spiteful. He wanted privacy.

Maybe, though, the privacy setting merely got left on overnight. If she knew what he was doing in there, she’d know whether she should disturb his privacy.

Cursing herself as a coward again, she hurried to a nearby maintenance closet to do something she’d vowed never to do: enter a ventilation shaft to spy into someone’s quarters. So much for respecting Duke’s privacy.

The duct was filthy and dust tickled her nose. Some of this pod’s automatic cleaners, called duck ’bots, must be broken. Crawling around the guts of a rich, well-maintained space station would be so much more pleasant. She wouldn’t always be filthy, either.

Would Duke be glad to see her?

But he isn’t going to see you, idiot. That’s the whole point of sneaking through the ventilation duct.

Ahead, a cul-de-sac in the ductwork glowed with light. Duke’s place. She hurried forward.

“Pass a napkin, stud,” said a female voice.

Sandrina slowed. Wrong room? She was usually so good at navigating.

She peered down through the grate in the room’s ceiling at a small, round table filled with breakfast. Amber and magenta strips of aromatic bacon from Plinial IV’s pseudo-pigs made her stomach rumble.

She edged out onto the grate for a better look. This was Duke’s room, all right—and sitting across from him was the elegant beauty from last night. Sandrina’s imagination could supply their activities between dinner and breakfast. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear slipped from her eye.

The tear fell through the grate and landed on the woman’s hand as she reached for her cup. The woman froze. Sandrina froze.

The woman recovered first. She stared up at the ceiling grate, stunner in hand.

Sandrina jerked aside—too fast, too violently, because the grate flew open on its hinge. Face first, she plunged down. Luckily, her legs jammed in the ductwork, leaving her dangling over the table. Upside down, she saw Duke’s wide, startled eyes. Blazing humiliation obliterated everything except those eyes.

“What the—”

Before Duke finished the sentence, Sandrina’s legs unstuck. She covered her head with her arms as she plunged face-first into a plate of jam-covered toast.

How about that for a way to show a man you love him? As a seduction technique, do you think it’ll work? If you want to see how things turn out for poor Sandrina, check out The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.

Want to win free stuff?  Of course you do! Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway.

And be sure to check out the other stops on the cafe’s tour.

Effing Feline Needs More Catnip

Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf

I, Effing Feline, write these weekly posts for Ed Hoornaert, aka Mr. Valentine, This snippet from Mr. V’s newest release, Alien Contact for Kid Sisters.

Lots of folks posted that last week’s snippet had them dying to know whether Marianne gave in to her desires. She’s falling in love with Quinn, who saved twelve-year-old Elfy from rebel gunfire. Marianne thinks Quinn is a married Royal Guardian who’s protecting her even though he’s really an unmarried conman who’s kidnapping her.  Confused yet?

One kiss, and then I’ll go back to being a sane, moral person, I promise.

When their lips met, a shock sparked through her. She’d known kissing him would feel good, but not this good—not world-changing good. Their lips caressed each other with a magical exchange of awareness and attraction.

Gasping as though startled by the forces the kiss unleashed, Quinn pulled back and stared at her with wide, awestruck eyes. She laughed with quiet joy and was still laughing when he kissed her again. Overcome with passion, she whimpered … too loudly.

“Huh?” Blinking, Elfy sat up and asked, “What happened?”

An ice-cold shower couldn’t have shocked Marianne more than those quiet, sleepy words.

Effing Feline here again. If you buy Alien Contact for Kid Sisters, I’m pretty sure I can sweet talk Mr. V into getting me some more catnip–so buy it, purrty please!

And check out the other great snippets from the Weekend Writing Warriors.

How many of these award winners have you read?

Locus Magazine is one of the most important science fiction magazines, and every year they honor a wide range of people in the field. Here are the winners of their 2015 fiction awards.

SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL

Ancillary Sword, Ann Leckie (Orbit US; Orbit UK)

FANTASY NOVEL

The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison (Tor)

YOUNG ADULT BOOK

Half a King, Joe Abercrombie (Del Rey; Voyager UK)

FIRST NOVEL

The Memory Garden, Mary Rickert (Sourcebooks Landmark)

NOVELLA

Yesterday’s Kin, Nancy Kress (Tachyon)

NOVELETTE

“Tough Times All Over,” Joe Abercrombie (Rogues)

SHORT STORY

“The Truth About Owls,” Amal El-Mohtar (Kaleidoscope)

For complete list of winners and runners-up, click here.

 

A Closer Walk

A quick post today–some Dixieland for you, performed by the Sirocco Woodwind Quintet, with me on oboe and Sandy Weber, who recently passed away, on clarinet solo.

Effing Feline, Drunk as a Thunk

Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf

I, Effing Feline, float high above the floor, turning lazily in the air, dreaming of mice, purring and stretching as I ride a purple haze of catnip-induced euphoria…

Anyone know any good rehab clinic for catnip addicts?

Back to work … gotta earn my catnip, eh?  Another snippet from Alien Contact for Kid Sisters, the latest release by Ed Hoornaert, aka Mr. Valentine, aka The Dreaded Catnip Pusher. It’s a sequel to the previous snippet, in which Quinn heroically drove off the bad guys. (If you remember, con-man Quinn is posing as Captain Charleyjohn, a married Royal Guardian.)

Marianne didn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t. Sitting beside this brave man, who’d risked his life to protect her and Elfy from a gang of rebel villains, made her belly thrum with desire. She had to be very careful, or she’d be leaping off a precipice marked The Other Woman, with a big red sign halfway down flashing Home Wrecker.

Could the cliff also be marked Bipolar Madness?

She felt as though she’d awakened from a half-sleep to vibrant, intoxicating awareness of herself and the world around her. She closed her eyes, hoping she wasn’t skyrocketing into a manic episode. Although this would be a horrible time to lose control, her feelings were so vivid and romantic—better than the world’s most beautiful sunset seen from a tropical beach while walking arm in arm with Brad Pitt—that she wouldn’t have missed them for the world.

She wanted Quinn with a ferocity that threatened to consume her, but acting on her feelings with a married man would be wrong to, immoral, unforgivable. And despite her moments of wildness, she’d never done anything wicked, let alone evil.

… … Effing Feline here again. Still soaring.

Giggling.

Hallucinating.

Oh, go away! Check out the other great snippets from the Weekend Writing Warriors, and leave me alone!

And subscribe to Mr. V’s very occasional newsletter for information on Effing Feline and new releases.