Here's a rundown of the week's activities. :)
1) Edits. I'm buried in them. I may never get out from under them. Depending on the characters, that isn't a bad thing.
2) Finishing A Cajun's Christmas. It's shorter than most of my stuff but I am thoroughly enjoying it!
3) Decorating some more for Halloween. (I am a huge fan of the holiday and Halloween will throw up all over my house)
4) Now available for Pre-Order: Angel Wed[His Guardian Angels 4]
5)Then onto the next project!!! <3 p="p">
Oh and an excerpt of my WIP Relay for Life [Deadzone 2]: :P
“Whose
dick do I have to suck to get some service over here?”
Andrew winced as Brooklyn made his
rumbled statement in the crowded cafeteria of Deadzone Zombie Insurance
corporate headquarters. The towering black windowed building seemed to absorb
the sound and send it echoing back to them. He pinched the bridge of his nose
and tried to look anywhere but at the company presidents’ son. Brook was a
great guy, a great field agent, but he was a bit… blunt.
Finally, a petite brunette girl with
a cafeteria uniform came over to take their drink orders and Brook calmed down.
As soon as she’d disappeared to go fetch their duel orders of orange citrus
drinks, the field agent turned his attention to Andrew. “Now tell me, Andy,
where does my dads have you running this time?”
It was a legitimate question.
Deadzone was his corporate sponsor and they gave him a crazy list of races to
compete in every year. He’d been running for them since he was sixteen and now,
at twenty, he was used to their crazy schedule. However, this new sector run
took the cake as far as runs went. “I’ve been assigned to run the wilds from
sector three to sector four. It’s a marathon run so it’s a little over
twenty-six miles. I’ve been training like crazy for it.”
Brook whistled low. “Damn. Through the wilds? There is no
telling what you’re going to encounter along with way.”
“Fourteen check points, twenty-three
scheduled stops. Medi-checks every third check point. It’s pretty intense.” It
was going to be his most intense run yet. Since running had become the national
sport, the length and danger levels of the races varied from short distance
sprints to open country marathon runs, all of it televised from coast to coast.
Every large corporation sponsored a set of runners. Andrew was one of three.
“I’m going to need a field unit with me. Jimmel called me earlier and told me
to come to a meeting at three. You dad sounded pretty chipper on the phone so I
figure it can’t be too terrible news. He’s probably just going to introduce me
to the new field team.”
Brook
snorted, rolling his apple-green eyes with a gutso. “Oh please. “field team” is
a loose term where babysitting a run-kid is concerned. They are as close to
useless as one can get and still be considered an agent. In all the runs you’ve
had, how many z-kills have they made?” Leave it up to Brooklyn to make it a
competition. 
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