Kougar kitty is tired today, a long trek to hunt her vittles, and gather up all the life necessities, like the two huge spindles of blank Cd's for moi's stories and pics ~ a two for one price, a deal not to be missed for this Big Computer-dependent Cat.
Spring's warmth is still elusive for moi's greening splendid cattle prairie. However, the Kougaress is great-big-purring grateful there was no freeze last night, as was weather-predicted.
On the return journey today, Mother Moon hung as a half-disc spectre above the eastern horizon, while very early this morning She was blasting-radiant orange, and weirdly spooky as only half her light, sitting on the western horizon.
Love letters, Big Beautiful Cats, when humans actually penned their thoughts upon paper ~ a true pssion for the Kougar once upon a time ~ hand penning on gorgeous paper with beautiful colors ~ Kate Pearce on Lustbites.blogspot.com has wonderfully blogged about her 'silly' love letters of ye olden days. Mewings below:
Kate, talk about chuckling a lot over your letters. I grew up in the age of penning letters, and I adore it. Although, no one else seems to appreciate my efforts, so I don't bother anymore.
In Junior High there was one guy, sweet, but I was definitely not interested in him romantically. No chemistry at all for me. But he would write the most wonderful letters, with beautiful poetry...too bad. I felt bad about having to keep telling him 'no' -- although with the way my life has gone I did that boy a favor!
On Title Magic Mel provides a librarian's edge over the rest of us when it comes to be surrounded by inspiration of the non-fiction variety. She also bids adieu with the promise of elf-ear reports from the Romantic Times Convention. Moi can't wait and is meow-yes! hoping Adrian Paul will be sighted. Talk about titillation from afar. Very afar. Mew-yowl!
Yay! Mel, I want those elf-ear reports! Have fun, guys!
I agree, great post, Mel. I've always read as much non-fiction as fiction just because I love learning, and there are so many fascinating subjects. Most of my stories are inspired by non-fiction books as much or more than fiction books.
Tired Kitty Kisses from the Kougar...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Blue Water Flash
Synchronicity wins once again, Big Cats, moi's pinup featured in a past blog is winning popularity and artist friends -- for, it fate-seems, David Burton, moi's cover artist for Pleasures of Blue Lotus Oil was researching a project, and happened upon her.Meow-Kougar, can only hope this is a good shaman omen. O Great and Wonderful Bast, please. And purring-thank you.
Since her writer's Muse beckons insistently, the Kougar will leave her sweet and ferocious kitties with this 150 word flash and dash created for the Liquid Silver blog, a short scene from Pleasures of Blue Lotus Oil before her battling ride in the Braverth. Already moi spots, no not leopard spots -- but corrections she would make.
"Warrioress fire surged through her flesh. Barefoot, Sheridan moved carefully between the small misshapen boulders. With light steps she negotiated the rocky shelf of ground toward the waterfall, hidden in the deepest-shadow forest of the Wyldeland. The melodic crash of water falling onto stone and splashing loudly into an enormous pool, beckoned her untamed spirit. Inside her loins, the blaze to compete, to win curled, savage and calm.
Once she stood atop the largest boulder, Sheridan speared her arms upward in supplication and reverence for the Blue War Goddess. Subtle, fierce, the white-blue lightning coursed through her veins.
Unhurried, as in the most ancient tradition, she disrobed.
Leaping down, she strode toward the diamond-magnificent sprays of water. Swiftly stepping beneath the waterfall’s fury, Sheridan slowly turned. Cold-sluicing water ripped away her breath as she sacred-cleansed herself. Soon she reveled in the pummeling sun-gleaming water, feeling her triumph in the Braverth."
Once she stood atop the largest boulder, Sheridan speared her arms upward in supplication and reverence for the Blue War Goddess. Subtle, fierce, the white-blue lightning coursed through her veins.
Unhurried, as in the most ancient tradition, she disrobed.
Leaping down, she strode toward the diamond-magnificent sprays of water. Swiftly stepping beneath the waterfall’s fury, Sheridan slowly turned. Cold-sluicing water ripped away her breath as she sacred-cleansed herself. Soon she reveled in the pummeling sun-gleaming water, feeling her triumph in the Braverth."
Blue water flash kisses from the Kougar...
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Sinderella Kougar
The chill of Spring, Big Cats, has descended upon the tame prairie today. Meow-still, the lush emerald green grasses spring up taller and taller. The daffodils are gorgeous adornments. And the Kougar can breathe for the most part -- beyond the chemtrails. Now if she could race and bound again ~ ah, are sweet-purring dreams far behind?
Big Lovely Kitties, The Romantic Times Convention looms ~ Adrian Paul, Sea Fairy Ball, the lavish was-it-good-for-you? costumes, the wild imbibing pageantry, the men (cover models, brave husbands and boyfriends). Being able to talk with, companionship with those rare few who understand what it is to be a writer...and the all-important networking. On and on...
Mew-sadness, for, indeed, it's Sinderella Kougar, with no Big Beautiful Fairy Goddess-Cat to sparkling-wand dress her for the ball, provide magical transport. Indeed, no Prince Charming.
Although, the heroes of moi's novels are beyond superior to a mere Prince Charming. Indeed, to purring-prove moi's assertion, a tiny snippet from Pleasure of Blue Lotus Oil ~ Deepest sapphire truth, the first time his Sheridan had smiled at him with complete fondness sparkling in the depths of her azure-sea eyes, she had mastered his heart.
Which tail-swishing reminds ~ the Kougaress has sent her cover art form and images to David Burton, with the knowing-feeling that the paint brush magic will occur, whatever his artistic vision.
And, roar-tingly yay, both Red Lioness Tamed and All Shades of Blue Paradise are on the March release page of Fallen Angel Reviews ~ http://fallenangelreviews.com/NewReleasesMonth/NRMonth-March.htm
Rumble-apology for the interruption in penning. However, the canines must be released to enjoy bounding about the land. And on the sundown horizon, a magical glow of pale apricot with a sheer tint of gold beneath the deep steadfast blue of the low-hanging clouds. Perhaps, a sweeter magic than if the Big Beautiful Fairy Goddess-Cat appeared...meow shrug?
Another tidbit shrimp of good news, moi's blog, Hunting the Magic Were-Beast, has been accepted as an article for the upcoming Passionate Ink newsletter. Meow Cool Cat, dark shades and strolling included.
And talk about a real FAT CAT, snarl-no, not the fat cats of commerce, check out the pic on coast-to-coastam with George Noory of a real live Garfield, a thirty-five pounder. Can anyone growl 'chase the mouse' instead of 'come dine Italiano style'?
Sinderella kisses from the Kougar...
Big Lovely Kitties, The Romantic Times Convention looms ~ Adrian Paul, Sea Fairy Ball, the lavish was-it-good-for-you? costumes, the wild imbibing pageantry, the men (cover models, brave husbands and boyfriends). Being able to talk with, companionship with those rare few who understand what it is to be a writer...and the all-important networking. On and on...
Mew-sadness, for, indeed, it's Sinderella Kougar, with no Big Beautiful Fairy Goddess-Cat to sparkling-wand dress her for the ball, provide magical transport. Indeed, no Prince Charming.
Although, the heroes of moi's novels are beyond superior to a mere Prince Charming. Indeed, to purring-prove moi's assertion, a tiny snippet from Pleasure of Blue Lotus Oil ~ Deepest sapphire truth, the first time his Sheridan had smiled at him with complete fondness sparkling in the depths of her azure-sea eyes, she had mastered his heart.
Which tail-swishing reminds ~ the Kougaress has sent her cover art form and images to David Burton, with the knowing-feeling that the paint brush magic will occur, whatever his artistic vision.
And, roar-tingly yay, both Red Lioness Tamed and All Shades of Blue Paradise are on the March release page of Fallen Angel Reviews ~ http://fallenangelreviews.com/NewReleasesMonth/NRMonth-March.htm
Rumble-apology for the interruption in penning. However, the canines must be released to enjoy bounding about the land. And on the sundown horizon, a magical glow of pale apricot with a sheer tint of gold beneath the deep steadfast blue of the low-hanging clouds. Perhaps, a sweeter magic than if the Big Beautiful Fairy Goddess-Cat appeared...meow shrug?
Another tidbit shrimp of good news, moi's blog, Hunting the Magic Were-Beast, has been accepted as an article for the upcoming Passionate Ink newsletter. Meow Cool Cat, dark shades and strolling included.
And talk about a real FAT CAT, snarl-no, not the fat cats of commerce, check out the pic on coast-to-coastam with George Noory of a real live Garfield, a thirty-five pounder. Can anyone growl 'chase the mouse' instead of 'come dine Italiano style'?
Sinderella kisses from the Kougar...
Friday, April 11, 2008
Prairie Roaring Winds
Prairie roaring winds, Big Beautiful Cats...the Kougar has cracked open her favorite window just a few times today...a knock-over blast o' wind in the ole' kitty mug, I can meow-tell ya. And the Kougaress is fiercely fond of the air blasting in her face, the winds whipping around her. Not these bad boy lion-roaring winds.
Most excellent purring-news...hope, hope! It looks like David Burton ~ davidburtonart.net ~ cover artist for Red Lioness Tamed, Liquid Silver Books, will be doing the cover art for Pleasures of Blue Lotus Oil, since pics of truly voluptuous models are in seriously short supply ~ like gasoline and oil of ye current days, or so THEY claim. If sex-kitten moi was younger, in her physique-curvy prime, she would seriously consider selling her pic for cover art purposes.
Unless, there is an image-commercial website unknown to the Kougar, and they are zillions upon trillions ~ the catnip-caveat, however, a site devoted to the luscious feminine body type, think Anne Margaret in the teen movie, Bye Bye Birdie, of moi's ancient teenage-cat days, or a female body like this cheesy and classy pinup ~ what a new business opportunity. One the Kougaress would like to indulge in, yet does not possess the time nor the the wise expertise.
Don't get blown off any branches, stay low to the ground, Big Cats, and head on over to Title Magic. Our guest blogger, Liz Jasper, author of the Undead, Cerridwen Press, discusses how paranormal elements are successfully woven with mystery and suspense in romance novels. Mewings below.
Liz, excellent detail on adding mystery and suspense by use of paranormal elements. Paranormal is a natural for me. Weaving in suspense and mystery is what I'm learning. Thanks for all the insights.
Lexie, RT and the RWA and other chapters probably have workshop/lecture CDs or DVDs available on that topic.
Lexie, RT and the RWA and other chapters probably have workshop/lecture CDs or DVDs available on that topic.
Wind kisses from the Kougar...
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Were-Beast on Title Magic
Were-Cats all, come out of hiding...at least, for us Big Cat writers who want to star you in our novels. Please, were-kitties, give a snooty scan to moi's blog for Title Magic today.Hunting the Magic Were-Beast
Authors, aspiring authors, are you hunting the magic were-beast?
Pssst...if you’ve settled on were-ducks, I’d give that honking mallard another thought. According to the SmartBitches, Ellora’s Cave has already claimed those quacking heroes as their own. Yeah, yeah...I gotta an old fallin’ down duckstand I can sell ya.
Still ~ still as a full moon werewolf-shifting night ~ are you looking for that perfect were-beastie to star in your next novel?
Howl desperately to the moon, dear writers...is that next were-heroine or hero ~ or were-villain elusive? Is your were-inspiring Muse on hiatus...er...shacked up with that gorgeous ManWolf, and she’s not emerging from the waterbed den until all her lusty appetites are completely satiated?
Growl-darn the writer’s block, is that perfect were-beast still escaping your imagination? Just as the real were-beasties do, escaping detection by mainstream media and mainstream science?
Authors, aspiring authors, are you hunting the magic were-beast?
Pssst...if you’ve settled on were-ducks, I’d give that honking mallard another thought. According to the SmartBitches, Ellora’s Cave has already claimed those quacking heroes as their own. Yeah, yeah...I gotta an old fallin’ down duckstand I can sell ya.
Still ~ still as a full moon werewolf-shifting night ~ are you looking for that perfect were-beastie to star in your next novel?
Howl desperately to the moon, dear writers...is that next were-heroine or hero ~ or were-villain elusive? Is your were-inspiring Muse on hiatus...er...shacked up with that gorgeous ManWolf, and she’s not emerging from the waterbed den until all her lusty appetites are completely satiated?
Growl-darn the writer’s block, is that perfect were-beast still escaping your imagination? Just as the real were-beasties do, escaping detection by mainstream media and mainstream science?
Yep, I said ‘real’. There are dedicated researchers combing through all the reports turned into law enforcement agencies, including animal control, about beasties that go more than ‘bump *or hump* in the night’. These truth-seeking researchers tromp through the fields and forests tracking down evidence, snapping pics of unusual, unknown tracks, bagging bits of hair, along with the occasional claw-ripped shirt. These intrepid few among us have even been known to set up camp for a night or two, attempting to lure the beasties with their fave snacks. I believe lunch meat was mentioned in one report. Truth to tell, if I were a fierce and cunning were-critter, I don’t think lunch meat would tempt my primal slavering immense hunger. Now frying bacon.... 
Linda Godfrey, author of Beast of Bray Road and Hunting the American Werewolf, is one such dedicated researcher. Her occasional reports on Coast-to-Coastam, night radio, are beyond fascinating, the stories of encounters absolutely enthralling, not to mention chill-scary entertaining.
Nope. We are not alone, Earth humans. Strange monster critters, magical were-beasts, wherever they originate from...inner earth? And...wherever they lurk...? Are hiding deep, deep inside our forests and caves, their lairs unlocated by Google Earth...yet.
So, if your writer’s imagination is on the fritz, and all you’re visualizing is a set of savage yellow-neon eyes, get a spooky halloween re-charge, investigate were-beast territory on Linda Godfrey’s website: beastofbrayroad.com. Here is a snippet from Linda’s blog:
November 5, 2007 - Return of the Bearwolf?
It never ceases to amaze me the way these things seem to work. Only a few days ago I had decided to post a note about the Washington County Courthouses's cryptid creature art, and then today I get a call from Mike Lane, the hunter who went looking for the creature's footprints last fall right about this time. He found some, too...bipedal, large and roundish looking deep imprints that indicated something very large and upright went walking through a mushy field across from Holy Hill, and then entered a marsh where the tracks ended. (See photo of Mike standing in front of that marsh last year.)
Inspired by Linda Godfrey’s reports, an excerpt from my WIP, Don’t Cry Werewolf ~
"This should be the spot." Weak, in pain, she shuffled slowly. Focusing on each step, she tried not to stumble, not wanting to fall, hurt herself so severely she’d have to crawl into the isolated forest.
"The lucky spot," she encouraged herself. "The lucky spot where I get eaten by a werewolf." She whisper-sang those words to herself over and over – forging ahead at a snail’s pace.
The night-chilled air wheezed in and out of her lungs. Her feet drug over the dead damp leaves from last autumn. There wasn’t much spring foliage to hinder her way.
"Here, little werewolf," she called out. Again she laughed at herself. She needed a big monstrous werewolf, actually. "Here, big horrible nasty werewolf," she called out instead – several times. She chuckled, faltered, the effort costing her.
Looking upwards at the immense display of tree limbs in the moonlight, she felt the usual quick up and down of her chest, listened to her struggling whoosh of breath. It took nothing anymore to wear her out completely. "Hey, if nothing else I’ll get lost in the forest and die," she murmured philosophically, between her strained puffing breaths. "Maybe only the bugs will get me."
Able to lift her foot again, she continued moving deeper into the old forest. "Death by mosquito – god, that would be horrible. Instead of a thousand cuts. A thousand bites. – The itching...no it’s better to be ripped apart. Definitely."
Reaching an enormous tree trunk, she leaned against her palm – the rough bark strangely comforting. "Maybe it’s still too cool for mosquitos." Breathing heavily she turned, leaned back against the trunk, rested. "Death by exposure can’t be much fun," she whispered, huffing huge breaths, hurting breaths. "No, death by werewolf is the way to go."
When her breaths calmed down, she called, "Here, werewolf, here, werewolf." Painfully she shoved from the tree trunk, shuffled from the rough bike trail onto a deer trail. "I may not be as tasty as little red riding hood." Feeling woozy, she slowed her steps. "But I should be good enough for one meal."
Numbness crept into her limbs. She forced one step after another. "Maybe I’ll just die on the trail."
No fresh dinner for you, werewolfie. She sent the telepathic message just in case werewolves were a telepathic species, like most animals. No drugs, I’m mostly organic – even if I’m no spring chicken dinner. She stumbled to her knees.
"Damn!" Pain radiated upwards sharply. Straightening, she grimaced, shook her hands out. I guess a bear will do. Soon as she could, her breathing not as ragged, she leaned forward on her hands, struggled to stand up. Groaning with the pain and effort, she cried out, finally standing up.
Geez – not a good night to die. Dragging one foot, exhausted, she continued along the deer trail. Bear...cougar...maybe a wild pack of dogs...come on, werewolf. Eat me!
She begged. Heart, mind and soul, she begged. Come on, werewolf. Eat me! Her eyes shut, she took several small steps. She begged, knowing it had never mattered before how much she’d begged for help. I need a cliff.
She opened her eyes. Nothing, no glowing red eyes. No glowing eyes at all. I should just jump off a cliff...of course, there’s the whole fear of heights thing. But it won’t really matter once I’ve jumped...I could just pretend it’s a flying dream...Hit.
Her body felt wooden, about ready to collapse. Feeling chilled, she hugged herself – kept dragging her feet forward, tiny steps. She didn’t care. If she simply dropped and died – that would serve her purpose. It’s just that she wanted to know. If werewolves existed, she wanted to know. Before she died.
She figured she was owed at least that...for enduring her pathetic nightmare life. For maintaining her integrity, her goodness as a person, despite the endless brutal trials.
Why not serve yourself up as a meal? And know. It was eco-sound – no land-eating coffin. No energy expended in cremation. Just bloody rent flesh, dinner for a werewolf. Any remaining pieces devoured by nature.
"The natural way to go," she whispered. "Instead of don’t feed the animals at the zoo. Do feed the animals." She laughed silently at herself. "The new cool on YouTube," she muttered. Looking around, she noticed there were no more night sounds. "The zoo’s new slogan – end it here, save a polar bear," she whispered, trailed off. The eeriness tingled her flesh to goosebumps.
Hugging herself unconsciously, she waited, noticed she was frozen. She couldn’t move her feet. A strange dread coursed through her. Yet she was calm, a strange anticipation soared through her. Slowly, slowly, she swivelled her head, looking.
It rushed at her from the darkest part of the forest, fearsome, upright, huge. Shadow-dark in the moonlight. Searing feral gold eyes charged straight at her. Her scream stuck in her throat. She was grateful. Her fast breaths hurt like knives in her throat. It would be upon her soon.
Closing her eyes instinctively, she prayed it was a werewolf. That she would know. Somehow. Fluttering her lids open the next split second, she saw the wolfen features, monstrous and magnificent, displayed beneath the full moon. She nearly passed out from the shock, swayed. His ferocious growl as he ran at her possessed her spine.
Forcing her eyes wide, she watched him launch – fur and bulk and incredible power. His hot breath blasted her neck. His fang tip touched the side of her neck. She fainted.
But not before she thought – goodbye, cruel world.
Linda Godfrey, author of Beast of Bray Road and Hunting the American Werewolf, is one such dedicated researcher. Her occasional reports on Coast-to-Coastam, night radio, are beyond fascinating, the stories of encounters absolutely enthralling, not to mention chill-scary entertaining.Nope. We are not alone, Earth humans. Strange monster critters, magical were-beasts, wherever they originate from...inner earth? And...wherever they lurk...? Are hiding deep, deep inside our forests and caves, their lairs unlocated by Google Earth...yet.
So, if your writer’s imagination is on the fritz, and all you’re visualizing is a set of savage yellow-neon eyes, get a spooky halloween re-charge, investigate were-beast territory on Linda Godfrey’s website: beastofbrayroad.com. Here is a snippet from Linda’s blog:
November 5, 2007 - Return of the Bearwolf?
It never ceases to amaze me the way these things seem to work. Only a few days ago I had decided to post a note about the Washington County Courthouses's cryptid creature art, and then today I get a call from Mike Lane, the hunter who went looking for the creature's footprints last fall right about this time. He found some, too...bipedal, large and roundish looking deep imprints that indicated something very large and upright went walking through a mushy field across from Holy Hill, and then entered a marsh where the tracks ended. (See photo of Mike standing in front of that marsh last year.)
Inspired by Linda Godfrey’s reports, an excerpt from my WIP, Don’t Cry Werewolf ~
"This should be the spot." Weak, in pain, she shuffled slowly. Focusing on each step, she tried not to stumble, not wanting to fall, hurt herself so severely she’d have to crawl into the isolated forest.
"The lucky spot," she encouraged herself. "The lucky spot where I get eaten by a werewolf." She whisper-sang those words to herself over and over – forging ahead at a snail’s pace.
The night-chilled air wheezed in and out of her lungs. Her feet drug over the dead damp leaves from last autumn. There wasn’t much spring foliage to hinder her way.
"Here, little werewolf," she called out. Again she laughed at herself. She needed a big monstrous werewolf, actually. "Here, big horrible nasty werewolf," she called out instead – several times. She chuckled, faltered, the effort costing her.
Looking upwards at the immense display of tree limbs in the moonlight, she felt the usual quick up and down of her chest, listened to her struggling whoosh of breath. It took nothing anymore to wear her out completely. "Hey, if nothing else I’ll get lost in the forest and die," she murmured philosophically, between her strained puffing breaths. "Maybe only the bugs will get me."
Able to lift her foot again, she continued moving deeper into the old forest. "Death by mosquito – god, that would be horrible. Instead of a thousand cuts. A thousand bites. – The itching...no it’s better to be ripped apart. Definitely."
Reaching an enormous tree trunk, she leaned against her palm – the rough bark strangely comforting. "Maybe it’s still too cool for mosquitos." Breathing heavily she turned, leaned back against the trunk, rested. "Death by exposure can’t be much fun," she whispered, huffing huge breaths, hurting breaths. "No, death by werewolf is the way to go."
When her breaths calmed down, she called, "Here, werewolf, here, werewolf." Painfully she shoved from the tree trunk, shuffled from the rough bike trail onto a deer trail. "I may not be as tasty as little red riding hood." Feeling woozy, she slowed her steps. "But I should be good enough for one meal."
Numbness crept into her limbs. She forced one step after another. "Maybe I’ll just die on the trail."
No fresh dinner for you, werewolfie. She sent the telepathic message just in case werewolves were a telepathic species, like most animals. No drugs, I’m mostly organic – even if I’m no spring chicken dinner. She stumbled to her knees.
"Damn!" Pain radiated upwards sharply. Straightening, she grimaced, shook her hands out. I guess a bear will do. Soon as she could, her breathing not as ragged, she leaned forward on her hands, struggled to stand up. Groaning with the pain and effort, she cried out, finally standing up.
Geez – not a good night to die. Dragging one foot, exhausted, she continued along the deer trail. Bear...cougar...maybe a wild pack of dogs...come on, werewolf. Eat me!
She begged. Heart, mind and soul, she begged. Come on, werewolf. Eat me! Her eyes shut, she took several small steps. She begged, knowing it had never mattered before how much she’d begged for help. I need a cliff.
She opened her eyes. Nothing, no glowing red eyes. No glowing eyes at all. I should just jump off a cliff...of course, there’s the whole fear of heights thing. But it won’t really matter once I’ve jumped...I could just pretend it’s a flying dream...Hit.
Her body felt wooden, about ready to collapse. Feeling chilled, she hugged herself – kept dragging her feet forward, tiny steps. She didn’t care. If she simply dropped and died – that would serve her purpose. It’s just that she wanted to know. If werewolves existed, she wanted to know. Before she died.
She figured she was owed at least that...for enduring her pathetic nightmare life. For maintaining her integrity, her goodness as a person, despite the endless brutal trials.
Why not serve yourself up as a meal? And know. It was eco-sound – no land-eating coffin. No energy expended in cremation. Just bloody rent flesh, dinner for a werewolf. Any remaining pieces devoured by nature.
"The natural way to go," she whispered. "Instead of don’t feed the animals at the zoo. Do feed the animals." She laughed silently at herself. "The new cool on YouTube," she muttered. Looking around, she noticed there were no more night sounds. "The zoo’s new slogan – end it here, save a polar bear," she whispered, trailed off. The eeriness tingled her flesh to goosebumps.
Hugging herself unconsciously, she waited, noticed she was frozen. She couldn’t move her feet. A strange dread coursed through her. Yet she was calm, a strange anticipation soared through her. Slowly, slowly, she swivelled her head, looking.
It rushed at her from the darkest part of the forest, fearsome, upright, huge. Shadow-dark in the moonlight. Searing feral gold eyes charged straight at her. Her scream stuck in her throat. She was grateful. Her fast breaths hurt like knives in her throat. It would be upon her soon.
Closing her eyes instinctively, she prayed it was a werewolf. That she would know. Somehow. Fluttering her lids open the next split second, she saw the wolfen features, monstrous and magnificent, displayed beneath the full moon. She nearly passed out from the shock, swayed. His ferocious growl as he ran at her possessed her spine.
Forcing her eyes wide, she watched him launch – fur and bulk and incredible power. His hot breath blasted her neck. His fang tip touched the side of her neck. She fainted.
But not before she thought – goodbye, cruel world.
Moi's mewings:
Linda Godfrey is great inspiration, Mel. And she's out there doing the real research.
Anitra, yeah, a tiny dry comment on SmartBitches...it struck my wing bone funny.
Anitra, yeah, a tiny dry comment on SmartBitches...it struck my wing bone funny.
Were-beastie smooch from the Kougar...
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Journey Tree Obstacles
Journeying down to her mailbox after the torrential Spring rains ~ thank you, weather goddesses and gods ~ first a gorgeous adorable cardinal lands in front of the Kougar, then *blast the eye* a major humongous dead limb across most of moi's gravel drive, branches scattered everywhere. Most sacred fortunately, the limb was dried and dead, therefore not as heavy, and the Kougaress could leverage it out of the way. Quite a large undertaking to clear away all the limbs and branches, meow-moi can tell you. So now, the weariness has taken over for the day.
The good rumbling news, on the trip back the Kougar saw another large-girth tree had fallen into the neighbor's pasture from water saturation and the winds. Roaring-yay! It would have been too large for moi to manhandle out of the way. And no guilt required since Dead Tree is on their side of the fence, and no damage caused.
Journey tree obstacles ~ a sacred message? All other obstacles in the Kougar's life path may be removed with this level of effort? Wish, wish...hope, hope...yowling-please, please...
More mewing-smiling news, the Kougar's horse drawing has been incorporated into the cover art of Pleasures of Blue Lotus Oil, as a small silhouette ~ so tingly cool, Big Cats. And the candle-erotic scene continues with our heroine and hero's turn for extreme pleasures...
Lovely Big Cats take a swift stroll over to Title Magic. Renee Knowles, fellow Siren author, is our guest blogger. With a background in small business, she offers great tips for networking. Purrs below.
Renee, it is kinda strange in a way, always forming stories in your head as you're grocery shopping, etc. and trying to keep aware enough while paying, so you don't end up losing a credit card.
Thanks for joining us today. I so luv that your career is taking off!
Journey kisses from the Kougar...
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Kougar, On the Hunt
Ah, the greening of the April-rain prairie grasses, Big Beautiful Kitties ~ what a fantastic and glorious relief not to worry about mowing, or the neighbor next door overly-concerned about their property values if moi doesn't keep her lawn trimmed to within an inch of it's very little shooting-up life. Roar-yes! To live with the splendid wildness of a lawn gone completely weedy wild! Must be the shaman witch inside the Kougar.
Big Cats, anyone watch Medium last night? Irresistible show for the Kougar...meow-purring indeed, with yummy chuckles galore. As jowl-licking fun as if moi had just dined on a bowl of buttered plump shrimp.
Medium is one of the few TV shows in the vast wasteland of idiocy programming designed by the dumb to continue the process of dumbing us all down. First, and originally designed, controlled by THOSE who consider themselves our rulers, and thus, superior in every way. A mad, mad world of elite.
Yowling back to the TV fun, Kitties ~ 'cause how tickle-the-kinky-bone fun was that show? Whether or not, you are a stalking cougar after the delicious abs-hard meat of a younger man, as Jane Fonda claims to be, or whether you just enjoy the sexy quirkiness of the fictional author character and her Cougar book on scenarios to hunt down that hard sausage between your thighs.
Moi knows, crude and lewd. But a Big Cat deserves some cheesy giggles, now and then.
And confession, moi is not an older-woman man-stalking cougar...just to burst your imagination bubble.
Big Cats! Romp on over to Title Magic. Mai posted late with a Fabio-topic about it ain't all the physical looks when it comes to a romance hero. And today, Evonne presented a wise commentary on how much info is too much info in a romance story? Moi's incredible and insightful meows below.
Well done, Mai. It's the whole package. Certainly not just a physique. Personally, I adore physical beauty. Not what is deemed physical beauty these days, however. But I also adore a beautiful personality, a beautiful intellect. Someone who is genuinely beautiful inside and out. I've known some people who physically may not be that impressive, however when you get to know them, they become more and more beautiful. Because that's what shines through. It's who they truly are.
Wonderful discussion on this topic, Evonne. Sometimes I'm a research hound, just because I enjoy learning.
However, when I read a story, I want the story, the people, not ten tons of info which really has nothing to do with the dynamics going on between the characters.
Unless a character is working on a combustion engine, forget about it!!!
But, that's just me.
Hey all, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Think of all the great posts Title Magic will get from you all attending the RT convention.
Yes, Evonne, nothing more sexy to me than a man doing what he's good at and confident about, whether blue collar or white collar.Lexie, I think your Druid hero is far more fascinating and desirable than just a hunk guy.Trish, I couldn't agree more. There were some guys in college that were considered the most sexy. Yeah, physically, they were good-looking. But their attitudes were such a turn-off I rarely noticed them, unless another gal pointed them out.
Kougar, On the hunt kisses...
Big Cats, anyone watch Medium last night? Irresistible show for the Kougar...meow-purring indeed, with yummy chuckles galore. As jowl-licking fun as if moi had just dined on a bowl of buttered plump shrimp.
Medium is one of the few TV shows in the vast wasteland of idiocy programming designed by the dumb to continue the process of dumbing us all down. First, and originally designed, controlled by THOSE who consider themselves our rulers, and thus, superior in every way. A mad, mad world of elite.
Yowling back to the TV fun, Kitties ~ 'cause how tickle-the-kinky-bone fun was that show? Whether or not, you are a stalking cougar after the delicious abs-hard meat of a younger man, as Jane Fonda claims to be, or whether you just enjoy the sexy quirkiness of the fictional author character and her Cougar book on scenarios to hunt down that hard sausage between your thighs.
Moi knows, crude and lewd. But a Big Cat deserves some cheesy giggles, now and then.
And confession, moi is not an older-woman man-stalking cougar...just to burst your imagination bubble.
Big Cats! Romp on over to Title Magic. Mai posted late with a Fabio-topic about it ain't all the physical looks when it comes to a romance hero. And today, Evonne presented a wise commentary on how much info is too much info in a romance story? Moi's incredible and insightful meows below.
Well done, Mai. It's the whole package. Certainly not just a physique. Personally, I adore physical beauty. Not what is deemed physical beauty these days, however. But I also adore a beautiful personality, a beautiful intellect. Someone who is genuinely beautiful inside and out. I've known some people who physically may not be that impressive, however when you get to know them, they become more and more beautiful. Because that's what shines through. It's who they truly are.
Wonderful discussion on this topic, Evonne. Sometimes I'm a research hound, just because I enjoy learning.
However, when I read a story, I want the story, the people, not ten tons of info which really has nothing to do with the dynamics going on between the characters.
Unless a character is working on a combustion engine, forget about it!!!
But, that's just me.
Hey all, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Think of all the great posts Title Magic will get from you all attending the RT convention.
Yes, Evonne, nothing more sexy to me than a man doing what he's good at and confident about, whether blue collar or white collar.Lexie, I think your Druid hero is far more fascinating and desirable than just a hunk guy.Trish, I couldn't agree more. There were some guys in college that were considered the most sexy. Yeah, physically, they were good-looking. But their attitudes were such a turn-off I rarely noticed them, unless another gal pointed them out.
Kougar, On the hunt kisses...
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