I opened my sample chapter and randomly selected these three paragraphs:
What if all of this turns south? I came all the way to Bangladesh to locate the underwear factory, which this obviously was not. If the receptionist doesn’t tell us the location of the factory or pass us on to someone who could, then I’ve failed, and if the Honduras T-shirt factory was any indication of how I would be treated, I’m screwed.
I nervously sat trying to read the reaction of the receptionist, comparing it with my Honduras experience and worrying that I had fooled myself into a strange, expensive vacation under the delusion it was some kind of worthwhile quest.
Dalton’s phone rang and he stepped away from the counter to answer it. I stood, pulled out my underwear, and approached the counter.