I also realized that I still have formatting to do once all these things are fixed.
And I remembered that before I can sell the book I need a blurb. Frankly, I have no clue what to write there. Jeni did some stuff again?
AND I have to think of a series title and put it on the covers of both books.
If I work like a madwoman, I might be able to get it all done in two days, but I am not inclined to work like a madwoman. I still have household management, a sneezing geriatric cat, and an unplanned shopping trip to squeeze in there.
So, I will do my damnedest to get this done on time, but don't hold your breath. If not Friday, I will have it done by Monday at the latest - barring acts of man, nature, and Armageddon.
Thanks for your patience. And here's a taste of what I'll be sending out into the world soon...
Ugly
and the Beast
“Oh, my gawd, Jeni! What happened to your face? Ewww!”
Apparently, only Sleeping Beauty gets to
awaken to princely smooches and happy woodland creatures. As Sleeping Ugly, I got a short, shrieking
supermodel instead.
I hadn’t planned on Mara Lightfoot, my
best frenemy finding out anything about the curse I was under. All I wanted was a little normal after the
utter strangeness my life had become. A
movie marathon with my best friend sounded like an amazing idea. After which, I’d quickly usher her out the
door before midnight struck.
But we’d gotten to drinking. Time passed.
Then I got kind of snoozy. And
WHAM! I switched from the pretty phase of the curse to the morning fuglies. She’d
squeaked like a midget mouse and then began laughing. And pointing.
And then laughing some more.
“What the hell happened to you?” she asked
once she caught her breath.
My shoulders slumped. “It’s a curse.”
“Well, duh. It’s sure as hell not a gift.” She poured herself another shot of cinnamon
whiskey and downed it in one gulp. Once
the fire subsided, she said, “No wonder you missed all those photo shoots. I tried to cover for you because you told me
you were sick. And let me tell you, hon, this is certainly
sick. So, tell me, who cursed you? Jealous wife?
Jilted guy? Oh, I know, psycho
stalker!”
I’d already ruled out all three of her
options. And I didn’t want to tell her
the truth right then. First, I needed to
figure out why she was taking this so well and wasn’t on the phone with the
police or a mental hospital.
“Curses don’t exist, you know.”