Simple country pleasures - the tufted titmouse

It's Thanksgiving morning and meal preparations are well underway. We've fixed a few turkey dinners so the division of labor is established. We're not quite a "well-oiled machine" but we do okay. This Thanksgiving morning, we have a flock of distractions. That is to say there is a flock of Tufted Titmouse birds in the backyard. 

Enter the cat. 

The cat is very interested in the birds. He's stalking them, as a matter of fact. The birds are, so far, alert to his presence and he's not getting very far with his little cat mission. This is a good thing. 

The bad thing is I'd love to feed the birds so they and other species hang out here over the winter, but I'm not sure if I should. I'm sure the CAT would love it, but I don't like it when he kills small critters. I know it's just his nature. My grandma used to say, "a cat's a cat and that's that." She was correct. 

So maybe I will scatter feed for the birds this year. The way of nature is the old and weak fall, not the young and healthy. I think I can be content for the birds to be birds and the cat to be a cat. 

But as for today, it looks like the cat will have to settle for enjoying a few tidbits of turkey and be satisfied with that. 

Rayne
rayneforrest.blogspot.com
twitter.com/rayneforrest

Of insistent muses - she said "blog" and here I am

Ah, the insidious little voice. You know the one. That persistent, annoying whisper only you can hear. We all have one. Call it the devil on your shoulder or your muse. Call it worse than that if you want. Heck, I won’t stop you. I generally refer to mine as my muse and she’s such a whiner! For 2015 she's been prattling on about blogging more regularly until I gave in and said I would try. 

It was basically a lie to myself, but here I am. Searching for something to blog about. 

I’m not sure what my topic should be today, although this past week certainly provided fodder. Everywhere I turn there's something going on. From the atrocity in Paris to Matt Kenseth standing his ground (yea!), news abounds. But this is supposed to be a blog about the writing and the author behind it. 

I’ve been busy writing this past week. Very busy. My alter ego finished a manuscript and turned it in - WITH the forms. That's not a small feat. I needed to get that finished and clear the decks for Thanksgiving. This year, I'm fixing both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for us and my mother and stepfather. It's not a hardship. I have a plan, and my beloved is onboard to help. 

Today is the last NASCAR race of the 2015 season, and I plan to watch most of it. It's Jeff Gordon's last race, and while I'm not precisely a Gordon fan, I have no trouble admitting he's had a stellar career. While the race is on, my partner and I will finalize the game plan for Thanksgiving and Christmas cooking. Christmas is easier because I have the day before off work, but all will be fine. 

So here it is. I’ve completed my exercise in self-discipline and blogged on schedule. Thankfully, the muse didn't insist my blogging be cohesive, or even on point. See ya next time around. Have a great day! 

Rayne Forrest

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Across Time for #MSS119 (My Sexy Saturday)

Welcome to another My Sexy Saturday. My Sexy Saturday is a weekly blog hop that brings you sexy excerpts from a wide variety of today's authors. This week I'm highlighting Across Time. Enjoy!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I am dreaming.” He rolled over to face her. Her hair was mussed and her face flushed with sleep. She was beautiful. “You’re talking about something we did together.”

“You didn’t pack coffee then, so I figured you’d forget this time, too. Now get up and make a fire.”

“Nope. I’m not dreaming. She’s giving me orders.” Before Corri could answer, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. He was awake now. Very awake.

She pushed against him, rolling him onto his back. His hands stroked down her spine and cupped her rounded bottom. She shifted to straddle him. His body throbbed all over. He got a little hurried in the mornings if he thought he was getting laid, and she knew it.

“No foreplay?” He thrust up as she slid down over the fullness of his erection. She smiled at him and rose until the tip of his cock was barely inside her. Then she slowly eased down again.

Again and again she gave him that devastating pleasure until he couldn’t keep from moaning aloud each time she rose over him. He reached for her breasts, and she batted his hands away.

“Go over for me, Devin. Let me watch you. I want to see it happen to you.” She tightened her inner walls around him. “Go over.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Across Time is available at Amber Quill Press
http://www.amberquill.com/store/p/1954-Across-Time.aspx

More about Across Time:

Corri Dunn’s mission to distant Adhara VII begins on a downhill slide. Not only have her superiors withheld vital information, but Devin Tremaine knows what it is. Corri must face Devin, and what happened between them five years ago, or lose her command. Confronting the truth means facing the fact she still loves Devin. She wants him back in her life, and her bed, but she has to complete her assignment first.

Devin Tremaine made one big mistake in his life—he lost Corri Dunn when she needed his understanding and he couldn’t give it. Now they’re both at Adhara VII, caught in a web of deceit—and renewed passion. Corri’s been sent into a trap and he’s the only one who can save her.

The secrets of Adhara VII unlock their past, present and a future fast unraveling. To survive, Corri and Devin must make a leap of faith—across time.


 Be sure to visit all the My Sexy Saturday blogs using the list below.

Rayne Forrest
rayneforrest.blogspot.com
twitter.com/rayneforrest

IWSG- Try a Little Tenderness

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com

Ooh, she may be weary, young girls they do get weary…

I’m dating myself with a song reference from Three Dog Night. It was a big hit in 1969, and is actually on my “car” playlist. Is it because I get weary? Probably.

There’s a good kind of weary you get when you play hard, or even work hard at something you enjoy. It’s the kind of weary that makes you happy and grateful. You fall into bed at the end of the day with a smile on your face.

But there’s a different kind of weary, the kind you get when confronted by the worst of life. Funerals, divorce, illness, friendships gone awry, betrayal. There’s not a lot to cure that kind of weary, only time.

We’ve all been on both sides and when bad things happen, and we’re searching for answers, I think we forgot one important thing. We forget to be kind to ourselves. Instead, we blame ourselves and try to push through being weary to do more.

It’s nearly impossible to write your best prose when weariness sets in. Sure, some people can really tap into how bad they feel and spew it all over the page. It’s not something I like to read so I don’t do it. If I’m exhausted, I try a little tenderness on myself.

I’m not afraid to turn off the computer and rest. When I need it, I take time to get my head back on straight. I’ve learned that if I want to write a good story, I’ve got to take care of myself. And I learned it the hard way when my husband had cancer, so I’m not just pontificating.

It’s important to me to do the best I can on each story. I’ve found that if I stay tapped in to how I’m feeling, I write better. I plot better. I set the scene better. It really pains me to spend an evening writing only to have to go back the next night and delete what I wrote. It doesn’t happen often because I’ve learned an important truth - weary doesn’t make for a good writer.

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

www.twitter.com/rayneforrest

All Hallow's Eve

All Hallow's Eve. The newest national holiday.

When I was young, so long ago, we had to walk to school in six foot of snow.... oh. Wrong story. That's my grandfather's story.

When I was young, Halloween was always celebrated with Trick or Treat on the Thursday before All Hallow's Eve. Back in those days, the neighborhood was a safe place for us kids. Parents worked together to everyone safe and in line. If we misbehaved, there was no escaping the consequences.

On Trick or Treat night, the parents turned us loose in one big pack. They did this for a singular reason and that was so these so-called adults could sneak out basement doors, hide in the bushes, and scare us kids witless. Those were the days my friends....

Rayne
www.rayneforrest.com
www.twitter.com/rayneforrest

A Hero's Bargain for this My Sexy Saturday

Welcome to another My Sexy Saturday! My Sexy Saturday is the weekly blog hop that brings you some of the best in romance fiction. 

Science fiction is my first love. When I was about nine or ten, I read Moon of Three Rings by Andre Norton. It was straight sci-fi and it opened the galaxy for me. I started out writing sci-fi only to discover it was difficult to get published, so I switched to contemporary.

Well, those days are over. Indie publishing rules and I'm going back to my roots. All I need is a thirty-hour day!

Here are seven sexy paragraphs from the sci-fi romance, A Hero's Bargain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She put her hands on her hips. “You are…you are…”

“What? Annoying? I know.” He grinned at her then crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

She backed away, shaking her head. “No. I have things I must do while it’s daylight. You should rest. Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the pallet.”

“Remember our little deal, angel.” He let the blanket slip just a hair. Her eyes flicked down to his groin. She licked her lips. His cock twitched. He could have howled with glee at the response. She’d take the pallet his ass. Who was she trying to fool? Her curiosity about the stranger in her care consumed her.

Ryder tossed the blanket over the foot of her bed and let her get a good look at him as he worked his way beneath the covers. The bed was longer and softer than the pallet, and he stretched out. It was heavenly to suddenly be comfortable—and free of pain. 

He tucked the covers around his hips before he looked at her. She watched him, stared at him, actually. He met her gaze.

“I’ll rest, angel. I anticipate a long night.” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A Hero's Bargain is available at Amazon. 

About A Hero's Bargain:

When a poker game turns ugly, erstwhile gambler Ryder Vaughan runs for his life. After crash landing his ship on an unknown world it looks like his life will be a short one - until the lovely healer, Saba Duer, finds him and saves him. Smitten, Saba has no qualms allowing Ryder to seduce her.

In Ryder, Saba sees the coming of a hero to save her people. The deadly errol that has terrorized the Ramalho Clan for so many years has been spotted on a course that will bring it to the village. Ryder has a weapon that could destroy the creature. She strikes a bargain with him to secure his help. Ryder’s not yet well and whole, but there is no choice. Saba has to let him go and face the truth – she’s sent him on a mission to die.   

But Ryder has a plan - and dying isn’t a part of it.

Rayne
http://rayneforrest.blogspot.com
www.rayneforrest.twitter.com

Rain on the Roof - A Blessing in Life

October 10, 2015

October marks two anniversaries at my house. The first pales in significance to the second. We’ve been together for twenty-one years. The second - my beloved has been cancer free for nine years.

Back in 2006, our situation was grim until his oncologist offered a Hail Mary drug. It worked. The tumor suddenly shrunk and the surgeon at Johns Hopkins agreed to take a chance on surgery. Times were bleak, but the rainbow was just ahead.

Eleven days after his surgery, I wrote the following blog. The feeling of appreciation of being alive and together has lasted over the years. We have been greatly blessed.

Rayne

PS. The same cat is still waking me up by tickling me with his whiskers.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

October 29, 2006

For these past many months I’ve suffered with insomnia. The inability to sleep, and rest, often has hidden causes. At least I knew what haunted me. My beloved’s battle with cancer has taken a toll on our life together and as individuals. The prolonged use of chemotherapy did its job and the tumor was finally removed. While his long-term prognosis is unclear, we at least have renewed hope. In a time when it seems politically incorrect to do so, my thanks and my praise remain thankfully given to God.

Now I have some breathing (or is it sleeping) room and the last three nights have been blissful. I’ve dropped like a rock before primetime and have barely been able to wake up twelve hours later. Until this morning.

This morning the brush of whiskers on my cheek and the sinking of not-so-tiny claws into my bosom got my attention at the ungodly hour of 4:13 a.m. I love my cat, honest I do, but his early morning demands were a bit much. He wanted to go outside and it was pouring rain. He was unhappy. He wasn’t getting his way with the universe, therefore his slaves needed to be awake and paying attention to him.

Wrong.

I threw him out in the rain. Tossed him right out the door. Call the ASPCA on me. Call PETA. Call a cat rescue. I don’t care. Better yet, you come and get him and let him put puncture wounds in your breast. And besides, he has a little cathouse under the eaves to go curl up in and stay dry. I stumbled back to bed and pulled the covers over my head. That’s when I realized my beloved was awake, too. “Do you know it’s raining?” he asked.

Why, no, dear. I had no idea. I missed the waterfall when I opened the back door and booted the cat out for a swim.

I rolled over and we snuggled up together as best a man with fifty staples tracing the outline of his right ribs can and we listened to the rain. Such a small thing, the sound of rain on the roof, but I don’t think we’ve heard it for two years.

I’ve often wondered why the sound of rain of the roof evokes such emotion in most people. Are we glad to be inside and dry? Do we share some ancient memory of times when our shelters were not quite so cozy? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, we simply enjoyed the moment, and of being alive and together. It was a moment of triumph.

Rayne Forrest
Bookshelf
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