Click here to read the original query.
I want to thank everyone who commented on the last version. Hopefully this one is a bit closer to the mark.
In my thriller Dead Meat, the only thing standing between America and a trumped-up war in a foreign land is a guy who drives a thirty-foot promotional vehicle shaped like a canned ham. But that’s just Gil Becker’s day job. See, he kills people. Professionally. He’s so good at it, the Department of Homeland Security thought he should work for them. They put Becker in the game to figure out who was really responsible for blowing up a Las Vegas casino, but the clues lead away from the Colombian revolutionaries who claimed credit, and closer to something more sinister in the old US of A.
So when five guys in body armor try to kill Becker while he’s singing off-key in the shower, he gets mad. He recognizes one of the attackers: he works (worked) for one of those private contractors, run by a pair of guys he knew from his Navy days. Mercenaries. Men afraid of losing lucrative government contracts once America reduces its presence in the Middle East. They’ve pissed off the wrong guy, and now it’s personal.
Dead Meat weighs in at 68,700 words. I received First Place in the 1,000-Word Fiction Contest at the ---- Conference, and Honorable Mention in 2008. I am a member of the ---- Writer's Association. Upon request I can send you the complete manuscript.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my work.