I, Effing Feline, tried to scratch my way into the innards of Mr Valentine’s couch (as I showed you last week). Mrs V is smart, though. She taped tin foil over my scratching place, trimmed my claws, and then closed the door to the family room.
Here’s another snippet from Rescuing Prince Charming. Dusty Johnson, a tech writer working on Earth’s first starship, has helped a Kwadran find a saboteur’s time bomb. They ran with the bomb to a terrace, where he throws the bomb into the ocean. She congratulates him on having a great arm.
Stupid to just stand there, yet she watched the bomb fall as though in slow motion. The lid floated away, wafting back and forth like a cardboard leaf.
The box arched beyond the pylons and the forest toward the ocean. Being a fiord, the bottom dropped off as steeply as the mountainside, so the box should be well submerged when it went off. She never could’ve thrown it so far.
The box hit the water with an insignificant splash. She waited.
That was all? This whole blood-pumping thing was a hoax?
Effing Feline here again. As I said above, Mrs V is smart — but I’m smarter. I’m proud to say I’ve made a start on scratching my way into the couch. Oh, what a clever feline I am.
I love a challenge, though. Do you have any suggestions she could use to try to keep me from scratching? I’m sure I can defeat even your best ideas, so bring ’em on!
I have a couple announcements about Rescuing Prince Charming:
- First, in a marketing-drive move, I’ve added a subtitle: A Native American sci fi romance.
- Second, I got a pleasant surprise this week when SFR Galaxy ( a website devoted to “Recognizing the Standout Books in Science Fiction Romance”) gave the book an award for Best Opening Scene.
Want a peek at the award-winning first chapter?. It contains most, though not quite all, of the first scene.