Working Man
Dakota took a look at her reflection in the rearview mirror and cringed. "Good googa-moo, I look like the Queen of the Undead," she said with a sigh.And it was true, although she had a good reason. Driving from Washington, D.C., to Chicago all by herself was a daunting task, especially since she was the sole driver of an SUV crammed full of books, clothes and a computer as well as a truly crabby cat. The cat, a large vain Somali female with big green eyes, let out a low yowl to remind Dakota how much she disliked car travel. "Cha-Cha, I've heard it all before so please put a lid on it. We're here, okay? I just have to stop to get gas and we can be on our way home, all right?"
"Rrrrrowrrr!" Cha-Cha's response seemed disdainful at best, something that actually stung Dakota.
"You're a mean ol" critter, you know that? I just happen to be a very well-known writer and you should treat me with some respect, you hairy little snot. How do you think I pay for all that gourmet cat food and Evian water you consume? You'd better be nice to me or you'll find yourself eating dry kibble from now on."
As she often did, Cha-Cha seemed to understand exactly what Dakota was ... read full excerpt from: Working Man ebook
