Possible Slight Delay

I'm working as fast as I can, but with only two days left, I'm probably going to miss my deadline.  Right now, I'm in the middle of scouring the book for flaws.  Yesterday, I got a whole page worth of notes and fixed them and that was only the first 33 pages.  Little things, like a missed comma here and a weird word there and a 'why did she call him that?'.  Nothing major, but it all needs to be fixed before I send it out into the world.

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

Chapter One

“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.”