Jacques N. Hoff




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Jacques N. Hoff

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December 2012

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About Jacques N. Hoff
My father told me all about the birds and the bees. The liar. I went steady with a woodpecker until I was twenty-one. I now travel the world in search of the hottest peckers—in tandem with my best friend Simon Spoonwell and his blue jay partner Jay Azure. What you read here is all true. Well, at least in the world of UCPeckers it is. Wherever you see peckers, you may just find me there.

About the Authors
Jacques N. Hoff is the brainchild of SJD Peterson and S.A. McAuley—two authors who shouldn't be allowed to interact with each other (at least in public). It was either co-write hot pecker porn or plot world domination. It's not clear which outcome will take the forefront on any given day.

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Average rating: 3.46 · 280 ratings · 115 reviews · 4 distinct worksSimilar authors
Jay Walking (Peckers, #1)

3.41 avg rating — 147 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions
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Cockstrut (Peckers, #2)

3.65 avg rating — 79 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions
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Masked Booby (Peckers, #3)

3.35 avg rating — 40 ratings — published 2015 — 2 editions
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Tufted & Tatted (Peckers, #4)

3.21 avg rating — 14 ratings2 editions
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.

Jay Walking Cockstrut Masked Booby Tufted & Tatted
(4 books)
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3.46 avg rating — 280 ratings

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Policeman Bluejay
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Jacques’s Recent Updates

Jacques N. Hoff is now friends with Jennifer☠Pher☠
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Cockstrut by Jacques N. Hoff
"Absolutely loved Louis, such a sweet, light read, only complaint I WANT MORE"
Cockstrut by Jacques N. Hoff
"*sigh* such a cute read. This was absolutely, sweetly, endearingly (and anything else that ends with "ly") adorable."
Cockstrut by Jacques N. Hoff
"Construct (Peckers Book 2)

I Liked it I really did I didn't think I would but I did hope there's more..I can't wait Hope it's soon."
The Pigeon Needs a Bath! by Mo Willems
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Masked Booby by Jacques N. Hoff
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Cockstrut by Jacques N. Hoff
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Jay Walking by Jacques N. Hoff
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One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
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The Bears of Winter by Jerry L. Wheeler
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Topics Mentioning This Author

topics posts views last activity  
The Challenge Fac...: February 2015 TCF Monthly Challenge 38 112 Mar 01, 2015 02:31PM  
Cassandra Clare
“You see, cuckoos are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds' nests. When the egg hatches, the baby cuckoo pushes the other baby birds out of the nest. The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places."
"Enormous?" said Jace. "Did you just call me fat?"
"It was an analogy."
"I am not fat.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

Langston Hughes
“Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.”
Langston Hughes

Edgar Allan Poe
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; —
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" —
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore.”
Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven

Mary Oliver
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
Mary Oliver

E.E. Cummings
“I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance”
E.E. Cummings

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