St. Martin’s New Adult Contest
TEMPTED by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast
Attention, writers! St. Martin’s Press is holding a contest for submissions. Yes, a contest hosted by yours truly to find books to publish. We are actively looking for great, new, cutting edge fiction with protagonists who are slightly older than YA and can appeal to an adult audience. Since twenty-somethings are devouring YA, St. Martin’s Press is seeking fiction similar to YA that can be published and marketed as adult—a sort of an “older YA” or “new adult.”
The contest begins today on Monday, November 9 and ends Friday, November 20, 2009. Submissions will be taken online and read by JJ of the St. Martin ‘s Press editorial department and Georgia McBride, Founder and Host of #YAlitchat!
There are prizes! The top three submissions—1st, 2nd, and 3rd places, if you will—will receive a copy of TEMPTED by P.C. and Kristin Cast. There may be multiple winners of this contest, but a free book will go to the three I find the most interesting/appropriate for what we are looking for.
The Rules
- One submission per author.
- Fiction applicable to older teens and twentysomethings, please. For guidelines, the protagonist should be 18 or older, but 20s are preferred.
- All works must be complete, edited, proofed and ready for submission upon request.
- Submission must include author first name, email address, 2-3 sentence hook/pitch and first paragraph of story ONLY. Any additional content will be discarded.
How It Works
Submissions are reviewed by the Editorial Department at St. Martin ‘s Press and Georgia McBride, Founder and Host of #Yalitchat. Based on the criteria defined by St. Martin’s Press; submissions are assessed and if we are interested in seeing more, authors are contacted via the email provided in the submission and a partial (first 50 pages) of your manuscript will be requested.
Your manuscript should be edited, proofed and ready for submission. If the editorial team at St. Martin ‘s Press would like to see more of your manuscript after reading your partial, they will request the remainder of your manuscript. Please make sure that your manuscript is properly formatted, spell-checked and ready to go.
Winners
Winners in this “contest” are those who submit and are asked to have their manuscript submitted for consideration by St. Martin ‘s Press. Ideally, a book deal would come of it, but we have no guarantees. The goal is to give as many #Yalitchat writers an opportunity to have their work considered.
Disclaimer: St. Martin’s Press does not guarantee to publish the material requested and cannot be held liable for a book published through St. Martin’s Press with similar content to any submission from the “New Adult” Contest sponsored by #YAlitchat.
Comment here to enter. Good luck!
Pitch for “Woodford Virgins”
Five unlikely friends spend a week at the colourful annual Woodford Folk Festival battling dust, scorching heat, oppressive humidity, inner confusion, embarrassing drama classes, emotional fatigue, food cravings, late nights dancing… and a serious lack of condoms! Woodford Virgins seriously explores the soul’s growth and struggle for a true identity through the playfulness and humour that the festival so easily provides.
First Paragraph:
The drumming around the campsite continues now as it did when they arrived at
lunchtime. As it did when she was a child. Tamarind is perched on top of an esky at the front of the tent that she is sharing with Marmalade. Her drum is placed between her knees as she slaps out random rhythms, breathing in the fresh air. She smiles. This is probably what she loves most about Woodford. The music. The drums. The rhythms and beats that set her soul on fire. Not the tinny kind that comes from a CD or a radio. But the kind that comes from the heart. Live, spontaneous, creative and playful. One person’s music melting into someone else’s until the notes fly together as one seamless creation. Words from the soul.
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Heather – heatherzundel [AT] gmail (dot) come
Pitch:
Valkonen discovers he is nothing more than a doppleganger of a drug-addicted prince, created through sorcery on the orders of his own father. They meet on accident and must come to terms with each other as well as their own existence, and decide who deserves the throne, and the life, they both now share.
First Paragraph:
Sand shifted under his boot as a sharp pain pierced through his finger. Valkonen looked down and shook it, but the splinter remained. It itched in a painful sort of way. He rubbed it against his leg. It didn’t help. Carefully, he slid a fingernail next to it and cut a small opening, peeling back the layer of skin. Reaching in, he pulled it out. Then he bent to pick up another sack of grain. It thumped against his back, knocking the air out of him. He staggered and caught himself, his feet spread in a fighter’s stance. Most men couldn’t handle a single sack by themselves. The others scoffed because he was at least seven years younger than them, but he didn’t care. He had trained with the greatest fighters in the country. He had lived at the palace. He could handle a sack of grain.
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Pitch:
What happens when the love of your life leaves you behind to become the most recognized face in the world?
First Paragraph:
“Another lonely night roomy? Whatcha watchin?”
I’d hit the power button on the dvd player too late. Here it comes.
“Oh, it’s her again. I wonder if she sits at home by herself watching old birthday party videos of you. But then I doubt that would be half as creepy as you watching this movie for what is it, the 800th time? Look at this; you’ve worn off the writing on the dvd! Who does that?”
The guy berating me at the moment is my roommate Trevor. Every so often, usually after a tiff with his latest girlfriend of the moment, he comes in and bashes my collection. It’s not as mean spirited as it sounds, really, he just worries about me and he’s right to do so—I’m pretty pathetic.
What would you think if your best friend, its Stanley by the way, had a shrine to a famous movie star that covered half of his bedroom…at 23 years old. Yeah, I know. Every poster and magazine cover she’s ever been on line the far walls. From her days as an up and coming actress in Teen Vogue(that was an interesting checkout line experience) to her blockbuster turn as Princess Kaya in “Galaxy Wars”(which totally rocks by the way), to her semi-nude, but tastefully done Rolling Stone Cover.
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PITCH
The week before her ninth birthday, TINI PETERS’s life changes forever.
Spending the rest of her childhood and teenage years doing all she can to leave her dark past behind, Tini is finally forced to confront the events of long ago, as well as the strange relationship between herself and her older adopted brother IAN; a relationship that’s one part love, and two parts destruction.
FIRST PARAGRAPH
This is not how I pictured it at all.
And I did picture it, that’s the thing. I pictured it often. I had everything planned out; what I would do, what outfit I’d wear, how I’d have to act, in case it ever really happened. I guess I’ve been planning on it for a while. A few times he and I even talked about it. We were older then, but not too old. It wasn’t hard. You’d be surprised the way we were able to just coast across those ideas, skim the surface. By that point everything was strange about us. That’s probably why it never worried me more than anything else.
(Thank you for your time and consideration!)
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Pitch for HEATWAVE:
Lacey Dawes was just twelve years old when she fell in l-o-v-e with incredibly talented boy band phenom Dante Falcone…a crush she put away with her stuffed animals and friendship bracelets as life forced her to grow up fast. Now fresh out of college, Lacey’s landed her first real job as an intern at IMO entertainment, the media giant who’s just-so-happened to have recently signed all-grown-up rocker Dante Falcone as its newest star. Dante needs an agency pushover to ride along on his HEATWAVE tour—a reality-show road trip uploaded to YouTube every night—and the bright-eyed intern seems to fit the bill… but when Dante’s over-the-top challenges force Lacey to confront him not as a girlish fantasy but as a smart, complex, and all-too-tempting reality, she’s in for the ride of her life.
First paragraph:
Dante Falcone stood on the stage like a depraved god, his guitar slung at his side, his sculptor-perfect face tilted up to the blinding spotlight; while rich, ethereal music swelled to a crescendo and filled the whole world. His thick black hair cascaded back from his face. His dark eyes implored the heavens. His lips parted. He stood there a moment more, transfixed by the immensity of his own arcane spell, and Lacey’s heart nearly stopped in her chest. She grimaced at the hollow ache that took her further back than she wanted to go. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that she was an adult—a professional, even. She was never supposed to feel this way again.
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Pitch:
College sophomore LEXI HASTINGS longs to be on GENERAL HOSPITAL and to have guys notice her, but her scared-to-deathness and reigning position as “queen of the drama nerds” prevents her from either.
Her association with her chain-smoking roommate, ALLY, and a group of JCrew-clad hotties, The Manwhores, provides her with newfound popularity—but Ally has no idea her new wingman is such a turkey.
When her high school crush, REILLY HUNTER, asks for a date after being MIA for four years, Lexi is forced to figure out who (or what) is the true love of her life and what path she should be taking to get to him (or it).
First Paragraph:
Dear Lexi,
I know it’s been four years, but I’ve been thinking about you lately…and…well…I think I’m finally ready to take you on a date. You probably have a boyfriend or you hate me—or both—but I just thought I’d take a shot. It’d be great to catch up, at the very least. Let me know.
Hope you’re well,
Reilly Hunter
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Title: Teaching Celebrity
Pitch:
Recent college grad, Angela Brooks, would rather starve to death before resorting to teaching kids,but when she’s faced with reality and a zero bank balance, she lands a job at Woodbridge Academy teaching art to spoiled children of celebrities. Angela discovers a world she’s only read about at the check out stand— Hollywood trophy wives, A-list actors, and even Mr. Sexist Man Alive. The students prove not nearly as glamorous and almost impossible to teach: they sit texting their agents, using the art supplies to apply fake tattoos, and not turning in their homework because the chauffer forgot it. Angela finds herself torn between her new celebrity friendships, honoring a confidentiality agreement, and keeping her fingers from dialing a tabloid tip line where she can make more money than she ever dreamed of.
First Paragraph:
Like any good fine art college graduate, I had taken a solemn oath: starve to death before resorting to the classroom. I’d even considered having “Teaching is the artist’s vampire” tattooed on my bicep. Yet here I sat in my beat up Civic waiting for my job interview, parked across from the formidable brick façade of Woodbridge Academy. The school that just last week was plastered on the cover of Star Magazine because one of its celebrity students had been busted with a bag full of pot at the tender age of thirteen.
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Caitlyn
FIRST PARAGRAPH
Paige Campbell was closing up shop when the phone rang. She figured her boss was calling to check up on her–he still didn’t trust her to close the store alone, even after her three-month probationary period had gone off without a hitch–but it was a steel-cranked synthesized voice. “Stop asking questions or you’re dead.”
PITCH
Something is out to get Paige Campbell . . . something not of this world. Newly out of community college with her associate’s in business, Paige was happy working for Uncle Hans at his music store, taking classes at Dallas Music Academy, and taking gigs playing piano or singing at weddings at every opportunity. She never dreamed that one crank phone call could lead to a nightmare. Alan McConnell, a young entrepreneur, hires Paige to sing radio jingles for his advertising agency, and wonders why the woman is so jumpy. When he discovers that she’s afraid to answer the phone and thinks she might be going crazy, he determines to help her–and runs headlong into the murk of a paranormal entity that’s mistaken Paige for someone else but is determined to haunt her until she “undoes” the curse that the other person supposedly put on the entity. (Alan’s a computer genius who created an AI to help him write hit jingles and analyze others’ successes, but the AI has secretly been taken over by a supernatural entity and targets Paige as soon as her phone numbers go into Alan’s database.) qTheir mutual attraction proves to be an inconvenience they can’t ignore. Can the two of them break the hold that the entity gains over them without resorting to doing something evil themselves–and thereby becoming as wicked as the entity?
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Pitch:
A romantic tale written in free verse, Waiting chronicles Emily’s search for identity during her first year of college at a small liberal arts school.
First Poem:
I’ve been waiting
My whole life
For this moment.
Waiting for the escape,
Waiting for the independence
Waiting to find myself.
And now that it’s here,
I’m waiting to figure out
What to do first.
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Pitch:
Roy Smith just tried to kill himself after his girlfriend Jenny was tossed in front of a train. But Emi, the tall, alcoholic, trained killer who ruined Roy’s life, wants to help – is desperate to help, in fact. Who is Emi? And for that matter, who was Jenny?
First paragraph:
Roy Smith sat. He looked out the window. There were no answers in the tree outside. There were no answers anywhere, as far as he could see. It was springtime. There were no flowers, but the leaves on the trees were the light, clear green that reminded him of daisies, though he didn’t know why. Spring was just spring, as far as Roy had ever known, and he could feel the fresh grass, the flowers and the rain, the bright sunshine and soft, damp earth all at once. He smiled at the thought of suicide in the spring. Who would think of such a thing? Then he thought about himself, Roy Smith, committing suicide, and the thought made him laugh out loud. It was something he could never have seen coming. Never. Things could never get so bad, never so dark, so painful, that you would be better off to off yourself.
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Pitch:
Apparently, killing her demon-tainted lover once wasn’t enough to satisfy the gods.
Reborn into a new life, Ashayna Stonemantle knows nothing of her past until she meets Crown Prince Sorntar, and his arrival causes memories of their ancient love to resurface. Ashayna cannot bring herself to kill her beloved a second time, even if that is what the gods demand and the one thing that might keep her soul safe from his darkness.
First Paragraph:
The earthy scents of loam and decay engulfed Ashayna as she knelt on the rain-dampened forest floor. Moisture seeped into her leathers and a jutting root dug into her left knee, but she scarcely noticed as she skimmed her fingertips along the rarest of tracks. While she’d never before seen their likeness, there was no mistaking the tracks of a phoenix. As long as her forearm, each print ended in a deep gouge mark where the talon had sunk into the soil. Despite the chilled water filling the punctures, she measured the depth with one finger, whistling in surprise when her finger didn’t hit bottom. “Damn big talons.”
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Pitch:
When nineteen-year-old Star rescues Race, a wealthy relic merchant’s son, from the belly of a folly -– a half-machine, half-animal contraption unearthed in the Karsaka desert, he exposes her webbed fingers, the shame she and Nene have kept hidden since the caravan found her wandering with no memory five years earlier.
Discovering their caravan razed and Nene and her young daughters enslaved, Star and Race must leave the safety of the Sand Road and cross the Badia Heart to save them; a lawless expanse of desert populated by bounty hunters, despots and savage creatures with a taste for human flesh.
Star seeks Effigy, fabled desert city ruled by crazed God-King Ankahmada, as do thousands of ragged pilgrims and refugees, each one clawing at its glowing blue walls, desperate to sample the opulence within, despite rumors that, once permitted entry, no one is ever seen or heard of again.
First paragraph:
The folly protruded from the shimmering sand, its entrance, jagged with loose bricks, gaping like the mouth of a dead beast. The men’s tracks led right up to it, then vanished. There was no question that the three of them had gone inside. I’d never seen a folly up close before, but I knew what I was looking at. Some of the camel drivers talked about practically nothing else. Always speculating on the treasures contained within. The dangers too. Treasure never came without a price.
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Pitch:
Embarking upon his first summer internship at a large Chicago money management firm, Peter Jangle discovers the downside of capitalism, rekindling the conflict between his greed and his charity. The story opens with a devastating earthquake along the New Madrid fault line. It is a precursor to the turmoil that follows. Tom Nelson observes his supervisor, who lost his family to the earthquake, progress from a state of despondency over his loss, to a state of bitterness toward his employer. Working for a pharmaceutical firm, Tom experiences the euphoria of discovering a new drug, only to be dismayed at the resulting side effects. As events continue to spiral out of control, Peter suspects his nemesis, ‘the sandman,’ has returned.
First Paragraph:
One solitary blade of beach grass stood apart from the rest, ten feet below the top of the sand dune called Mount Baldy. Despite its outward appearance of natural beauty, Peter Jangle will always remember Mount Baldy as a doorway to evil. That is his cross to bear. Tonight there was no scent of evil in the air. On this muggy evening, in Michigan City, Indiana, the sand dune danced in partnership with the heavenly bodies above. The dune offered comfort to those willing to nestle in its bosom.
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Pitch:
As a grad student at the Love and Marriage Institute, 23 year old Mella can predict how long a couple would stay together simply by watching them for ten minutes. Alas, Mella failed to predict the sudden demise of her own relationship, when her boyfriend of three years and the supposed “One” dumps her. One month later Mella’s in Ireland trying to find a new job and new love when she discovers she’s pregnant. Now Mella has to make some tough decisions between abortion, single motherhood or trying to win back Sam.
First Paragraph:
Just as I was about to unfreeze the video, my room-mate, Tammy, decided to have a heart attack.
She clutched at her chest with one hand and pointed with the other, gasping in mock horror. “Is she seriously wearing stir-up pants with leg-warmers? And what about him and that 1950’s argyle sweater-vest? It’s like watching a new reality show, the Clash of the Decades!”
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Pitch:
Out Like a Lamb is the story of a man who deconstructs an incident from his past in order to search for his identity.
First Paragraph:
I should have known we were lost when I looked up from the map. How much time did I spend actually looking at this map? A supposed tool of the trade for any traveler. And here it is hurting instead of helping. Columbus got further with less. I looked up. Outside my window the scenery passed by in a flurry. A patchwork collection of images and colors consisting of airbrushed trees, scattered leaves, endless roads and endless cars. Among these cars is the one occupied by me and my parents. My mother behind the wheel, my father asleep in the back, and there’s me, sitting in the front, on the passenger’s side, looking down at the map. The last item to be taken advantage of in my hopeless pursuit of anti-boredom.
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Title:
The Hemline Theory of Murder
Pitch:
New York’s vibrant fashion industry feeds on youth, and 26-year-old Dempsey Watson was at the peak of his game. He dressed everyone from movie stars to the President’s wife. But he wasn’t dressed for the occasion when the police came to arrest him for the murder of his former lover.
First Paragraph:
What Seventh Avenue in New York lacks in charm, it more than makes up for in action. For fashion to have engaged the interest of a character with interests as diverse as Charley Watson, it had to offer lots of action. In fashion, change is the driver of action because nothing is as fickle and filled with change as fashion. At the pinnacle of the fashion industry, Charley held sway. Until last week, Charley’s lover Pam had been there with him.
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Pitch:
Ebony Havenworth lives in a grim time where Humans are ruled by the tyrannical Fae king, and her only hope of escape is in music.
But when she is turned from her Apprenticeship as a Bard and told to learn magic instead, she comes under the tutelage of a mysterious old man accompanied by two cohorts with a bitter history.
She suspects they are hiding a dark truth about her, and it might take a dangerous journey to the kingdom of the Fae to learn what that is….
First Paragraph:
The final chord resounded through the ancient thatch-roofed cottage, settling like so much dust in the air. The Apprentice did not stop the sound right away but waited, letting the notes subside on their own. Her delicate hand trailed down from the harp strings to her lap. Despite the overcast day, the sky outside seemed to lighten with the music, and the sun made a feeble appearance. The girl’s eyes were closed, head tilted sideways as she listened to the overtones of the instrument. The smallest of satisfied smiles creeping across her lips, Ebony Havenworth lifted her head to gaze expectantly at her teacher.
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Pitch:
If you saw your neighbor choke someone to death, you’d probably call 911. Well, when you’re an indigent drug-peddling teenage peeping Tom, and said neighbor is the country’s hottest teen idol, your options most definitely do not include calling the cops. Well, maybe — but only after you spot a friend making off with the victim’s body.
First Paragraph:
As my vehicle glided to a halt, I checked the mirror one last time, ran a hand through my sticky brush cut. Totally unprepared for this battle, I steadied my breathing and assumed my calmest façade. I told myself there was no danger, no threat to my safety, not with this many witnesses. I pulled on my Revo shades, my Armani flak jacket. Zero hour. Deep breath. Smile. Let’s do this.
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Pitch:
Mabel is the Bridget Jones of Middle Earth. It is time for Mabel to find her life mate. Unfortunately, her beard is too scraggly, she is not stout enough, and she misreads the signals from potential mates. Facing increasing pressure from her family and friends, Mabel turns to self-help and relationship advice books for guidance. To further frustrate her efforts at finding a mate, Mabel finds herself in love with an elf, and that is just not done because as everyone knows, elves and dwarves don’t mix.
First Paragraph:
I rubbed my chin. Where just yesterday I felt only smooth skin, patches of short, stiff, prickly hairs now grew. I pinched the shaft of a hair between the nails of my first finger and thumb to measure its length. It had to be a record for overnight growth. If my beard continued to grow this fast it would be thick and full before long. I resisted the urge to pull one out to get a better look. The patches were too far apart to risk lose even one.
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Pitch:
Not even death can keep them apart… When a magic locket transports 18 year old Shane Anderson to the future she finds out the man of her dreams, Jeffrey, is now 28. Shane discovers the future isn’t all it’s crack up to be when she learns she was killed in a tragic accident ten years in the past. But it doesn’t take long for the plucky red head to realize Jeffrey’s passion for her is just as explosive as the terrifying secret he is hiding.
First Paragraph:
It should have been a dark and stormy night, but instead it was a bright sunny day. A fact that just added insult to injury for eighteen year old Shayne. It seemed a bit unfair for the sun to be beating down on her when she felt like she might not ever smile again. “Wasn’t there some kind of unwritten rule that it was supposed to rain at funerals,” she thought. She reached up and brushed a long red curl from her face and frowned.
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Pitch:
Luísa Tavares pirates the world in every sea but one. When a pockmarked Frenchman hands her Papa’s ring still attached to his severed finger, she orders the Coral back to the Caribbean despite her father’s earlier warning not to return.
First Paragraph:
Luísa Tavares had a list of sins the length of the Antilles, but she’d have to repent for them later. Time was running out for the captain of the Coral. And with it his luck. She spat out the tang in her throat then shimmied down the mainmast of the Coral, her tight leather britches and sharp cutlass a mockery to all that was decent in a woman.
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Title Texas Haven
Pitch:
Recently divorced Rancher Burke Dawson wants a family without loving a wife. Annie Dawson desires love above all else. Through trials and tribulations they try to find the love and trust they both deserve.
First Paragraph:
Annie slammed her hands against the steering wheel of her broken down rental pickup truck. If it wasn’t one thing than it was another, when was karma going to kick in? It seemed that she was under some kind of bad mojo. She laid her forehead against the black steering wheel, her long hair creating a riotous curtain framing her face. She was fighting the unyielding urge to cry. This was her first trip away from her controlling stepbrother and she had been enjoying her freedom. Her spirit had longed for freedom and independence since she was young. Now she realized that with independence self-reliance was included. She felt up to the challenge despite her hopelessly social awkwardness
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Pitch:
What if you’d spent your entire life doing exactly what was expected; then suddenly one day, you wake to find yourself a multi-millionaire plunged deeply into unexpected passion, intrigue and murder!
First Paragraph:
The wedding party pushed out into the street. Alex Baker’s long blond tendrils fluttered in the hot breeze as she scanned the crowd for Greg. What could be so important my own fiancé had to miss Mom’s reception? She glanced toward the stone gabled church and shielded her eyes from the scorching sun to hone in on a shadow darting behind a life-size tombstone in the adjacent cemetery.
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Pitch: Narrator Alex is a seventeen year old on the brink of moving into the autonomy of the life he chooses to lead rather than accepting the template offered by society. He navigates a summer and fall, playing music in a band, falling in love, and deciding to leave school and the house of his parents.
First Paragraph:
I’d gotten tired of the bench, the beach, and the cast of characters that alternated between them and had started spending my time at the town wharf instead. During an acid trip the year before one of my heroes had announced that water was alive, meaning it had consciousness, and I was convinced there was deep significance in what he’d said. I’d read Siddhartha, listened to Jim Morrison sing The River Knows, and immersed myself in 1983 (a merman I should hope to be) and I’d decided the water had a secret to tell me. So, whenever I lacked anything better to do, I went to wharf and looked at the shapes the sunlight made on the harbor. At first I expected them to spell words or form pictures, but after awhile I realized that wasn’t going to happen and didn’t need to. I’d sit with my back against a spile entranced by the weavings and collisions of wakes, waves, and tides, crossing and spending, slapping the hulls of moored boats and bulkheads, driving the light to dance in measureless rhythms.
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“Have You Seen Me? The Party Dress Murders”, centers on one man’s effort to penetrate the mind of a killer as he gathers evidence and pays attention to the instincts he has honed over more than thirty years in crime solving. In a series of twists and turns, the story unfolds against the backdrop of a comtemporary society in which events might not always be as they appear. Along the way through the story it illustrates the nuances of the human psyche and the extent to which a person may be willing to go in order to achieve a sense of justice.
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Pitch:
College sophomore Lottie Griffin just enrolled at a new college, just got hired at the school newspaper and nearly tripped over a dead body on her first assignment. The police rule the death an accident, but Lottie can’t leave it alone—especially since Jack, her sexy-but-infuriating editor, smells a good story. Soon Lottie is searching frat houses, breaking into secret passageways, coaxing information from her sorority friends and trying to avoid detection by the shadowy Sigma Society, which is bent on covering up the murder and its ties to a 50-year-old hate crime.
First Paragraph:
Lottie Griffin didn’t look like a goal post. At least, she’d never thought she looked like a goal post, but a cute guy cradling a football was barreling toward her anyway. She froze, unaware she’d been running through a makeshift end zone. The goal post image was her last thought before he slammed into her. She landed in the grass with a heavy, unladylike grunt. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into a pair of the most beautiful baby blues she’d ever seen.
“Touchdown?” she asked weakly. The boy attached to the blue eyes grinned.
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Pitch:
Since the age of twelve, Len George has suffered for the sins of his father Roy. Now nineteen, and after years of relentless cruelty for being the son of a suicide bomber, Len contemplates ending his suffering. In walks Madeline, a beautiful young woman who awakens a seed of hope in Len, and for a split second he imagines that happiness might actually exist for him. But when a fresh bomb attack rocks his small town all over again, Len is thrust back into the dark world of secrets and lies and watches as everything he has come to love crumbles before his eyes.
First Paragraph:
My name is Len George. You’ve never heard of me, but the whole world has heard of my father Roy, because of the way he died in the August 28, 1999 suicide bombing attack in Buffalo, New York. I remember most evenings Dad and I played catch and as the sun went down, I always wished I could keep throwing the ball and deny that the day was done. Dad would say there would be time to play tomorrow. I didn’t know that the tomorrows would run out when I was 12.
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Pitch:Wealth,good looks and eternal life. Sidney Rutherford thinks he has it all until he decides to take a companion. Then, he discovers that not even vampires get everything they want.
First Paragraph:
So many bored, desperate humans pretending to be more educated and important than they were, Sidney Rutherford thought as he scanned the capacity crowd of Mc Caw Hall and sighed. Humans held a certain fascination for him, even after over nine hundred years. They still piqued his interest and begged his attention with their frailties and idiosyncrasies. He often felt like a lion moving alongside a herd of zebras, observing and studying each member before singling out the weakest. Predators shared the same instincts and skills whether they were animal or something else, like a vampire.
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Pitch:
Not much should be able to surprise or unsettle Akiela: In her life, she has been raised by a general of the realms, and trained to be a spy amongst the humans, elves, vampires and shapeshifters. But when members of the merchant clans are brutally murdered, Akiela begins to find out how sheltered her life has been. New betrayals, secrets and dangers come at her almost daily now. The body count is rising, and she must try to prevent an overthrow of the shapeshifters’ leader, a bloodbath of the realm she’s always called home… and her own gruesome death.
First Paragraph:
Swirling around, Akiela couldn’t miss Tiernay’s scowl as she danced upon the bar counter, her hips and layered multi-colored skirt swaying as the sleeves of her peasant blouse drooped even further down her arms. Scooped necked, the white blouse provided an inappropriate view of her cleavage and she did nothing to prevent it from showing even more as she danced.
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Pitch: After spending nearly ten years hiding her pseudo-psychic powers from a government agency dedicated to eradicating witchcraft, cyber-criminal Cass Ryan accidentally reveals her secret to Alex Diaz, the movement’s billionaire poster child. Instead of turning her in, however, Alex reveals a few secrets of his own, and the two twenty-somethings find their lives drawn together as Cass’s attempt to unravel their personal mysteries uncovers a government conspiracy.
First Paragraph: She hadn’t expected the cover’s paper scar to feel so real. She’d seen the sign in the bookstore window: reddish tissue, shiny and taught, in the familiar shape of a five pointed star surrounded by a jagged circle. She’d seen the line of people stretching around the block, wearing miniature gold pentacles beneath the American flags pinned to the lapels of their dark wool coats. And she’d seen his name, printed in blocky white text in the bottom of the frame.
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Pitch:
When music talent scout Chandra Galliard gets assigned to a reality show, described as “American Idol for preschoolers,” she thinks her biggest problem will be keeping a straight face when adults sing about bunny rabbits. But the VP in charge is hell-bent to hit her revenue goals, even if it means shady business deals and firing anyone in the way. To keep her own job Chandra must manage the winning band, and the handsome lead singer with a talent for creating havoc with his ad-libbed songs.
When the VP pushes too hard, and the band rebels, Chandra must decide whether to sacrifice the band to save her career — or try to make the VP face the music.
First paragraph:
Chandra stood waiting for the concert, trying to ignore all the red flags. First, every alt-weekly in Los Angeles wanted to have the band’s children, a sure sign they were over-hyped. Second, the crowd was full of drunken kids from Greek Row shouting and texting each other — the Pabst drinkers of music, she thought. Third, the lead singer shambled on stage like he was doped on cough syrup, or something out of a bong. Still, there was hope. Maybe they were introverts who could only express their genius through music. Maybe their music would transport her to a better place, preferably one that didn’t smell like the crowd (too much melon body spray, and not enough deodorant). After all, this was why she scouted bands, to find the few rough-cut gems. But as the band’s first notes thundered through the club, her hope succumbed to an assault of power chords, a noise so punishing her phone went off like a car alarm in her pants.
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Title: Violet Midnight
Pitch:
Three years ago, Emma Martin awoke in a hospital, forever changed. With newly acquired super-strength, purple eyes that provide enhanced vision, and a tattoo that detects evil, she hunts the undead. She attempts to hide her powers and live a normal life, but when she discovers her new love’s dark family secrets, she may be forced to hunt them too.
First Paragraph:
Emma Martin had never killed a human, well, not on purpose anyway, but her best friend, Ava, might be the first. “No. I told you, I’m not going on a blind date, so drop it already.”
Considering she battled demons on a regular basis, few things in the world scared Emma. But two she did fear: giving her heart to a guy, and then witnessing his murder. Been there, done that. Never again.
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Pitch:
Isolated underwater for five years, Tom waits to take revenge on the man who wronged him. By strengthening his powers, a power yet unseen in their watery world, he hopes to overthrow the Fire Lord who scarred him and left him for dead.
First Paragraph
The water was colder here. He was farther north, the brown haired man knew, but the temperature didn’t bother him much. It never did. And if it got too cold, he could always go deeper. The ships that frequented these waters were slightly different, but he remembered seeing them before. They were reinforced, he knew. He had watched once as the fire mages had unsuccessfully thrown balls of flame at one of these stronger ships, only to find that the flames never caught. It took much more force to destroy a ship like these, and few fire mages were that strong. He could sense the presence of a mage that was capable of such a thing from a long way off. They couldn’t sense him, though. They had no idea what to look for, and by the time they figured it out, it was usually too late.
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Title: QUEENSREALM
Pitch:
Onyx Dagonese was just a child when the global war between man and woman exploded, plunging the world back into the dark ages of superstition and religious oppression. Now women rule over men, with Onyx as their most feared courtesan assassin. But she soon finds those who challenge the females in authority routinely disappear, and betrayal and deceit are not confined solely to males. Now as men remake themselves into machines and women counter with magic, Onyx must decide whether to remain a loyal soldier, or to risk everything on a forbidden love.
First Paragraph:
A woman is a weapon. Her hair shall be braided or long flowing, not only as an enticement for males, but to use as a noose for strangulation and thick enough to conceal poisonous thorns. She should possess a soft, willing mouth to coerce a kiss, while housing an object sharpened to inflict the utmost pain. Breasts can and must cradle a dagger, fingernails need fortification with metal tips dipped in toad venom. The only tears that dare flow are those of elation at our victories, verily, for females to rule Second Earth unchallenged, remember this doctrine well my sisters; the tyranny of man must be defeated by the treachery of woman.
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Pitch: The unnamed protagonist is homeless when she comes to the notice of an unnamed drug lord. The story is actually a journal she prepares about their time together for the police.
First paragraph: I don’t really no why you think hearing about Him from me is going to help you. If you want me to write down everything I can remember about my time at The Home, I can do that, but don’t expect any big revelations or surprises. In some ways, you probably know more about him than I do.
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Pitch:
At an art opening in a prestigious New Orleans gallery, Jack Jessup and his good buddy, Gilbert Tamarack, learn the hard way that is best not to criticize paintings at an art opening, even if the artist just painted them the week before and the art space reeks of paint fumes. THE ART CRITICS is a 70,000 word, humor-adventure novel that follows Jack Jessup on his own personal voyage of discovery, when he reluctantly leaves the “Crescent City” and sets out on a cross-country odyssey.
First Paragraph:
They call me Poor William, but in reality my real name is William Orrville Lafayette, the third. And please don’t call me “Po” William. OK. Although originally from southern Illinois, Paducah to be exact, I now call New Orleans my home. I came here twenty years ago and have never been able to leave. You might say the place is addictive. And I’m not talking about substance abuse here. It’s like it’s about the “Big Easy” mentality that is so prevalent here. Everybody has the disease, or at least a touch of it – including myself. And another thing, back then not too many people called this place the “Big Easy”, it was just black slang. But then the movie came out and everybody started usin’ that term.
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TITLE: Channel Surfing
Pitch: Brandon is a college student in northern Colorado who learns that the voices in his head are spirits of the dead reaching out to him. He is transformed from zero to hero when he begins to secretly channel geniuses, star athletes and celebrities for his personal gain. But when the bodies of his classmates start turning up dead, he realizes he might have channeled the wrong soul.
Being pistol whipped by your father is a lot like getting kicked in the head by a horse. Trust me, I know. Sure, they’re both dumb animals, but the horse didn’t do it because he was drunk and mean. Maybe that’s why I let the horse live.
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Sheila embodies the clash of cultural mores at the end of the 60’s. When she conceives by date rape and her mother disowns her, Sheila grapples with homelessness and the welfare system as well as the decision of whether to keep the baby. She draws close to Father Will, expelled from his parish for firebrand sermons against the Viet Nam war, and she transforms herself from a lone girl in need to a young woman who not only belongs to a community but heralds a new era.
Mom’s Sure Cursive
answers my letter that I’m back from Brazil,
pregnant:
“September 1969.
Dear Sheila,
I will remember you
the way you were.”
The lines of writing blur
My hand floats up and pulls
the chain of the hanging light bulb.
Darkness in the attic room.
It begins, then—
my life as a dead
daughter.
A river of stars
blinks in the window.
When I stand, her letter
falls from my lap.
I want the comfort of the Milky Way—
instead the chill from the cold glass
makes me see Mom
writing the letter,
only an hour away,
in the hometown I never
belonged to.
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Jessica
Jesscapelle (at) aol (dot) com
Title: ASCENDING ANGEL
Pitch: When Angel arrives at the pearly gates, she has no idea that she is one of God’s chosen human-angels and that she plays a pivotal role in the battle between good and evil. Can she accept her destiny or will her rebellion and love for someone she can’t have destroy her?
First paragraph: The unseasonable chill in the air was the only negative the day that I died. Houston was supposed to be the world’s largest sauna in May; the air thick with moisture that clings to you and invades each breath. Yet there I was, faced with an impossible choice: either wear Mom’s silver cardigan with the pearl buttons over my formal dress or prove that goose-bumps could be a stylish accessory. I had opted for the sweater, a choice I regretted as I looked down at what remained. Remnants of blood-drenched cashmere hung from my limbs, but I knew the worst was yet to come. Ruining a woman’s favorite sweater was a fate punishable by severe bodily harm. It didn’t matter that I was already dead; Mom’s wrath existed well past the grave.
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Pitch:
When Ashley Hunter inherits a pub in England she jumps at the chance to uncover the truth about her ability to communicate with ghosts. Suddenly, she finds herself not only torn between two men, but torn between two worlds. In the end, Ashley is forced to believe in herself and trust the very man who may have been responsible for her father’s disappearance.
First Para:
This is why I’d traveled all night on a plane? This is why I’d left my job and my fiancé? I slipped my sunglasses atop my head, thinking perhaps the lenses were smudged and affecting my vision. But no, fingerprints weren’t at fault—this was a pub of horrors. Fanfreakingtastic.
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Title: Dead Quiet
Pitch:
In this noir thriller for new adults, it’s 1949, and eighteen-year-old Nick Zarnecki is on the run from an accidental murder and a vow of revenge. When he meets a troubled older woman, her death pulls him deeper into danger. Nick must risk losing the girl he loves—the woman’s younger sister—to both keep her safe and prove his innocence.
First Paragraph:
I didn’t just fall off the back of a turnip truck. It was artichokes. And I jumped. I had twenty-five cents in my pocket and voices in my head. I was on the run, thumbing, riding, and mostly walking since Shytown, and I guess you could say I was scraping by all right. The voices didn’t let me sleep much, though. All that yelling.
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Pitch:Whether it’s in the dojo or on campus, people tend to clear a path when Trystan Van Sant saunters through. A self-proclaimed “bully’s bully” with a sharp tongue and an affinity for the 80’s – Trystan has always used his martial arts training to stand up for the “little guy”. After becoming smitten with Elyssa, a beautiful girl claiming to be immortal but not a vampire, his life suddenly takes a dramatic turn away from the ordinary. As sole survivor of the race responsible for their existence, it is Elyssa’s duty to find and train one capable of doing battle with the vamps. What she didn’t count on is becoming so emotionally involved with the fledgling slayer. Having seen firsthand the brutally short lifespan of a vampire hunter, Elyssa now finds herself torn between her obligation to her people and the love she has waited 11,000 years to find.
1st Paragraph:
“Dammit Tryst, this is the third fight you’ve gotten into this semester. I can’t keep coming down here every time some meat-head looks at you cross-eyed!” Martin scolded, his bony fingers worrying the heck out of his poor glasses. Martin’s my dad. He’s a good guy but a bit of a push-over. You know, the kind of guy that fears confrontation so much he gets nervous when other people are arguing.
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Pitch
In Against All Odds, eighteen-year-old Mary Kilpatrick looks forward to her first year at Boston College, but her studies are interrupted by a handsome FBI agent and al-Qaida terrorists. Soon she’s caught in a deadly game of intrigue where the stakes are high and growing with every deadly moment.
PARAGRAPH:
Mary said her goodbyes in the kitchen to her family, all except her father who’d be driving her to the bus station. They’d had so little time alone, so little time to talk over the summer. Days seemed to have flown by since her high school graduation, coupled with all the hard work of the farm that kept them busy from dawn to dusk. She took a few minutes to walk through the downstairs, running her hand over the familiar furniture. Nothing would be the same after today.
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(1850) After escaping a treacherous attack by the crew of the ship Empyreal, Isabelle Brandt is determined to see justice for her murdered friends. As she waits for word from the authorities in the States, she finds romance and new opportunities in Antigua—only to have it all come crashing down when the real killers blame her for the sinking of the Empyreal, a charge that could end in her hanging. The trauma re-awakens Isabelle’s childhood ability to communicate with spirits, a talent that will prove crucial in the final reckoning with the ghostly Empyreal and its villainous crew.
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Sorry for the duplicate, I think I have the hang of it now!
Pitch:
(1850) After escaping a treacherous attack by the crew of the ship Empyreal, Isabelle Brandt is determined to see justice for her murdered friends. As she waits for word from the authorities in the States, she finds romance and new opportunities in Antigua—only to have it all come crashing down when the real killers blame her for the sinking of the Empyreal, a charge that could end in her hanging. The trauma re-awakens Isabelle’s childhood ability to communicate with spirits, a talent that will prove crucial in the final reckoning with the ghostly Empyreal and its villainous crew.
First Paragraph:
“Where are you taking me?” I tried to plant my feet, but Miss Bonney roughly pulled me into motion again.
“I’m taking you to the east wing, to put an end to this superstitious nonsense once and for all,” she answered, holding my arm in an iron grip. “I will solve two problems with one fell swoop—get some use out of that room, and cure you of lying.”
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Pitch:
BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH dips in and out of the online gaming world called Poirot, where some of the mysteries are virtual and some are quite real.
This Christie-style story brought into the twenty-first century follows distracted new mom Clara MacGregor and her group of twentysomething friends as they race around town on a scavenger hunt. But Clara puts her games aside to focus on real clues when her friend, Tuxy, falls victim to nasty threats, pranks, and then a terrible fall. The police think Tuxy – secretive designer of Poirot – is suicidal. Clara knows that someone is trying to kill her friend, and she’s sure the would-be murderer is someone they both know very well.
First Paragraph:
I’d rather have a root canal than go jeans shopping, though somehow I always forget that until I’m standing in front of a mirror that makes me look short and squat, under lighting that lends my skin an unhealthy greenish tinge.
And maybe I’d feel different if I’d ever actually had a root canal to compare against.
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Pitch:
With the only life Serenity ever knew stolen from her, the hidden truth she has found is the name for what has stalked her for her entire life — the “Eyrie” — and that whatever this Eyrie is, it is coming, for her and for anything she holds dear. With a young man from an island she visited as a trusted companion, Serenity must learn the legacy her father left behind — a legacy the Eyrie will do anything in its power to prevent her from inheriting.
First Chapter:
Serenity walked into her room, sitting down in the cushioned chair near the door at the desk she rarely used as she preferred sitting on her bed. She looked over at her bed wistfully, knowing how tired she was but not actually wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looked for a sketchpad or book that could help her concentrate and stay awake but after only a few moments could tell that if she did not get to her bed now then she might end up sleeping in her uncomfortable wooden chair. She got up and headed to her large framed bed, remembering her father’s reaction when she had picked it.
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Pitch:
When Haven starts her freshman year of college, falling in love isn’t an option, especially after Josh, her abusive ex-boyfriend, passes away. Her plans change when she falls for Tristan, an immortal from Australia. Josh, an immortal now too, returns for Haven—the reunion makes her one very pissed off witch.
The backhand across my face caught me off guard; the smack exploding in my ear like a fire cracker. I stumbled, collapsing onto the hard pavement. Scurrying around, I tried to stand up but Josh slammed me back to the ground with his foot, giving me a few swift kicks for good measure.
Crouching down next to me, he leaned in close. “Don’t go then. See if I care.”
But he did care, and his spit grazing my face showed me just how much. He stormed off toward his friends, not bothering to give me a second glance.
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Pitch: Chris Ann Larson has decided to ski the American Birkebeiner, the premier Nordic ski race of North America, but struggles with injury and an man who won’t commit. A long layoff from training takes its toll, but she races anyway. Before crossing the finish line she encounters wayward deer bent on colliding with her, huge hills, but also a man who shows his love with energy bars and sports drinks. Her efforts earn her a place in Birkie lore for unexpected reasons.
First Para: If Chris Ann Larson could have picked a winter for her first marathon cross-country ski race, she would have picked 1991, the year three feet of snow fell on Halloween. That season was plush, velvety. Her skis never scraped ice, and the ski areas each weekend groomed every inch of trail. No, she had to pick a winter that the almanac said would be the most unpredictable in decades, with highs in the sixties and lows well below zero. The first snowstorm was predicted to arrive the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, but Tuesday came and went without a flake, and the Weather Tiger tracking system on News 5 revised their forecast and predicted a foot by Monday morning.
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Pitch/Hook:
“We are cats, and as such, the term fear is generally not part of our vocabulary. Many of our actions and responses are instinctive, and feline instinct might tell us to retreat and lie low on occasions, but the human part, the bravely stupid part, will make us do crazy things.
Like challenging an older, experienced leopard to a Combat. That dangerous mix of feline and human almost always makes for unpredictable results.”
First Paragraph:
“Mi-ra-belle,” the voice called out softly, dragging the syllables out. “Mirabelle, come out for a run.” Twilight was winking out with the first stars that sprinkled the cold December night sky, spreading like a shawl of glittering sequins that slowly began their dazzling night-show with an audience of at least one. Below, they were calling me out for a run, though, as usual, I would deny them my company. I had not run for so long, as if I was punishing myself; but it couldn’t fill the gaping hole in the area where my heart should be. Sometimes I hurt so much, I couldn’t breathe. That was when I wanted to run, so that the gasping for breath would be based on something external, something that did not try to claw its way out from inside me. Yet even if I did run, it felt like I could never escape. I cocked my head to the side. There was something about that last thought…. I was sitting on the wide window sill of my bedroom, legs hanging out, and like tendrils of mist curling about, that thought crept stealthily into my head: there are various truths in life, but none more important than the one that states that you cannot run from who you are.
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