Michelle Hauck's Blog, page 117
February 1, 2014
SVS AGENT Round Entry 8: A SEASON FOR KILLING BLONDES, Adult Mystery
Title: A SEASON FOR KILLING BLONDESGenre: Adult/Murder MysteryWord Count: 70,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Born and raised in northern Ontario, Gilda Greco has a great appreciation for winter and feels most uncomfortable during the dog days of summer. As the humidex rises, Gilda seeks air-conditioned comfort and dreams of the first snowfall.
Query:
Dear Literary Agent:
Hours before the opening of her career counseling practice, Gilda Greco discovers the dead body of golden girl Carrie Ann Godfrey, neatly arranged in the dumpster outside her office. Gilda’s life and budding career are stalled as Detective Carlo Fantin, her former high school crush, conducts the investigation.
When three more dead blondes turn up, all brutally strangled and deposited near Gilda’s favorite haunts, she is pegged as a prime suspect for the murders. Frustrated by Carlo’s chilly detective persona and the mean girl antics of Carrie Ann’s meddling relatives, Gilda decides to launch her own investigation. She discovers a gaggle of suspects, among them a yoga instructor in need of anger management training, a lecherous photographer, and fourteen ex-boyfriends.
As the puzzle pieces fall into place, shocking revelations emerge, forcing Gilda to confront the envy and deceit she has long overlooked.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
First 250 Words
Three thousand Euros worth of pastries. Can you believe it?
When I agreed to import the pastries, I had no idea I would be subsidizing the failing Italian economy and helping Silvio Berlusconi stay in power for a few weeks longer. Left to my own devices, I would have gone down the street to Regency Bakery, picked up some pastries and just walked them over. But my mother and Aunt Amelia were adamant. The open house for my new career counseling office needed a proper launch, one that could only be achieved with pastries from a Sicilian bakery.
To be fair, both of them were horrified when they saw that final four-figure amount on the invoice and swore me to secrecy. While conspicuous consumption is greatly valued in the Italian community, being taken for a ride is not, and we would never hear the end of it from Uncle Paolo who is still complaining about the ten cents he has to pay for a shopping bag at No Frills.
I watched my mother lovingly rearrange the amaretto cookies, stuffed figs, biscotti and other delicacies that had arrived yesterday. She and Aunt Amelia had brought in their best silver trays and carts and spent hours—according to Uncle Paolo—creating a colorful Italian corner.
“Everything is perfect. Maybe too perfect.” My mother made the sign of the cross and mumbled a Hail Mary.
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Born and raised in northern Ontario, Gilda Greco has a great appreciation for winter and feels most uncomfortable during the dog days of summer. As the humidex rises, Gilda seeks air-conditioned comfort and dreams of the first snowfall.
Query:
Dear Literary Agent:
Hours before the opening of her career counseling practice, Gilda Greco discovers the dead body of golden girl Carrie Ann Godfrey, neatly arranged in the dumpster outside her office. Gilda’s life and budding career are stalled as Detective Carlo Fantin, her former high school crush, conducts the investigation.
When three more dead blondes turn up, all brutally strangled and deposited near Gilda’s favorite haunts, she is pegged as a prime suspect for the murders. Frustrated by Carlo’s chilly detective persona and the mean girl antics of Carrie Ann’s meddling relatives, Gilda decides to launch her own investigation. She discovers a gaggle of suspects, among them a yoga instructor in need of anger management training, a lecherous photographer, and fourteen ex-boyfriends.
As the puzzle pieces fall into place, shocking revelations emerge, forcing Gilda to confront the envy and deceit she has long overlooked.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
First 250 Words
Three thousand Euros worth of pastries. Can you believe it?
When I agreed to import the pastries, I had no idea I would be subsidizing the failing Italian economy and helping Silvio Berlusconi stay in power for a few weeks longer. Left to my own devices, I would have gone down the street to Regency Bakery, picked up some pastries and just walked them over. But my mother and Aunt Amelia were adamant. The open house for my new career counseling office needed a proper launch, one that could only be achieved with pastries from a Sicilian bakery.
To be fair, both of them were horrified when they saw that final four-figure amount on the invoice and swore me to secrecy. While conspicuous consumption is greatly valued in the Italian community, being taken for a ride is not, and we would never hear the end of it from Uncle Paolo who is still complaining about the ten cents he has to pay for a shopping bag at No Frills.
I watched my mother lovingly rearrange the amaretto cookies, stuffed figs, biscotti and other delicacies that had arrived yesterday. She and Aunt Amelia had brought in their best silver trays and carts and spent hours—according to Uncle Paolo—creating a colorful Italian corner.
“Everything is perfect. Maybe too perfect.” My mother made the sign of the cross and mumbled a Hail Mary.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 7: ENCODED, MG Science Fiction
Title: ENCODEDGenre: MG Science FictionWord Count: 38,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Snow reminds Xavier of his mom, who passed away several years ago while they were living on a rather wintery planet. Come to think of it--that's probably around the time she hid the microchip in his brain. Although he has, on some levels, accepted her death--Xavier still misses his mom.
Query:
Dear Fabulous and Wise Agents,
Everyone thinks twelve-year-old Xavier has a knack for causing havoc. In reality he's just terribly unlucky. He's not the one who made "The Man" (the evil head of the Cornucopia Conglomerate) send a spaceship to Kevin 5 to turn his colony into something resembling a burnt pancake. Oh wait—he is.
To be fair, Xavier didn't even know the microchip (the one "The Man" wants to get his hands on) was hidden in his head. See, his mom did leave a message explaining the whole I-put-a-microchip-with-my-research-on-it-in-your-head thing before she died several years earlier, but he didn't get it until after the colony fried to a crisp.
Now, Xavier is stuck on a trip with his dad and other colonists getting supplies for the rebuilding of the colony. Along the way he has to deal with his impending banishment (in the form of living with his grandparents), navigating a new school, keeping his split-personality robot out of trouble, and trying to solve his mom's riddles.
Xavier must unlock the password to the microchip before "The Man" or his goons can cut it out of him. If he doesn't, he'll never know his mom's secret or why it's so dangerous.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my manuscript.
First 250 Words:
I thought to myself: Self, that’s not supposed to happen—just as the second dung bomb exploded. As the smelly, sticky, brownish-green substance flew through the air like shrapnel, I knew somewhere I'd made a slight miscalculation. Taking a moment as I crouched in the wheat field, I reviewed the parameters of my little experiment.
The traps consisted of plastic trays that held a chemical Mr. Finch, the colony's bug guy, assured me would be poisonous to the black bellied grain beetle. The trays were covered by a heap of cow dung to attract said beetles (again according to the illustrious Mr. Finch).Perhaps I should've consulted the colony chemist, too.
The third beetle-trap-turned-dung-bomb exploded.
“Xavier Howell!”
I cringed. I didn't recognize the voice, the colony was small but not that small, its tone was certainly familiar. My reputation had preceded me. Turning around slowly, I came face to knees with one of the grain farmers. I couldn't remember the man’s name, but I might've been distracted by the fact that he was covered—from head to toe—in dung.
“Yes, sir?” Why does my voice always crack at times like these?
His angry reply was cut off by the fourth and final explosion. The trap I'd proudly dubbed ‘The Hotel’ went out in a blaze of glory, spewing forth a cloud of brown and a jet of yellow flames. The wave of brown speckles struck the farmer's back and then fell lightly on my face.
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Snow reminds Xavier of his mom, who passed away several years ago while they were living on a rather wintery planet. Come to think of it--that's probably around the time she hid the microchip in his brain. Although he has, on some levels, accepted her death--Xavier still misses his mom.
Query:
Dear Fabulous and Wise Agents,
Everyone thinks twelve-year-old Xavier has a knack for causing havoc. In reality he's just terribly unlucky. He's not the one who made "The Man" (the evil head of the Cornucopia Conglomerate) send a spaceship to Kevin 5 to turn his colony into something resembling a burnt pancake. Oh wait—he is.
To be fair, Xavier didn't even know the microchip (the one "The Man" wants to get his hands on) was hidden in his head. See, his mom did leave a message explaining the whole I-put-a-microchip-with-my-research-on-it-in-your-head thing before she died several years earlier, but he didn't get it until after the colony fried to a crisp.
Now, Xavier is stuck on a trip with his dad and other colonists getting supplies for the rebuilding of the colony. Along the way he has to deal with his impending banishment (in the form of living with his grandparents), navigating a new school, keeping his split-personality robot out of trouble, and trying to solve his mom's riddles.
Xavier must unlock the password to the microchip before "The Man" or his goons can cut it out of him. If he doesn't, he'll never know his mom's secret or why it's so dangerous.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my manuscript.
First 250 Words:
I thought to myself: Self, that’s not supposed to happen—just as the second dung bomb exploded. As the smelly, sticky, brownish-green substance flew through the air like shrapnel, I knew somewhere I'd made a slight miscalculation. Taking a moment as I crouched in the wheat field, I reviewed the parameters of my little experiment.
The traps consisted of plastic trays that held a chemical Mr. Finch, the colony's bug guy, assured me would be poisonous to the black bellied grain beetle. The trays were covered by a heap of cow dung to attract said beetles (again according to the illustrious Mr. Finch).Perhaps I should've consulted the colony chemist, too.
The third beetle-trap-turned-dung-bomb exploded.
“Xavier Howell!”
I cringed. I didn't recognize the voice, the colony was small but not that small, its tone was certainly familiar. My reputation had preceded me. Turning around slowly, I came face to knees with one of the grain farmers. I couldn't remember the man’s name, but I might've been distracted by the fact that he was covered—from head to toe—in dung.
“Yes, sir?” Why does my voice always crack at times like these?
His angry reply was cut off by the fourth and final explosion. The trap I'd proudly dubbed ‘The Hotel’ went out in a blaze of glory, spewing forth a cloud of brown and a jet of yellow flames. The wave of brown speckles struck the farmer's back and then fell lightly on my face.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 6: GAME CHANGER, Upper YA Contemporary
Title: GAME CHANGER
Genre: Upper YA Contemporary
Word Count: 84,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Adam is used to ball-sweat-hot summers in his small town, but slipping on snow could tweak his knee and put a quick end to his college football future...and his escape to a better life.
QUERY:
Dear Fabulous Agent,
With a girlfriend damn near close to perfect, an imminent college escape out of NowhereVille, USA, and a passing arm clocked at 42 mph, everyone wants to sack quarterback Adam Emerson. But he never expected his dad to do the blindsiding, let alone the most damage.
Three weeks before graduation, Adam’s widower dad dies, and Adam’s left to bury his college dreams and NFL future. In their place, he’s saddled with the family garage to run and guardianship of his little brother, Ethan, who’s hell-bent on self-destruction.
In no time, Ethan’s fighting and drinking jeopardize his custody. And the auto shop takes such a dive, Adam’s forced to sell his dad’s beloved ’57 Ranchero just to make payroll. His coach and friends suspect he needs help, but he’s been trained to be a leader. No amount of their pushing changes his determination to hide his growing failure or his decision to handle it on his own. His relationships, the family business and home, his brother—everything that once seemed stable, everything he couldn’t wait to leave—are on the line. It’s up to Adam to admit defeat or adapt his strategy before he loses it all. Either way, his life will never be the same.
First 250:
If she were an honest-to-god drug, Jenn Deel couldn’t have had me more strung out. Her freckled shoulders and cocoa-buttered curves even made me forget the fireworks my best friend Langdon and I had snuck over state lines for. Not the best use of fake IDs and money, but it was our last Labor Day hurrah at the river.
It was also the official end of another summer spent in the armpit town of Milton, where spontaneous combustion felt like a real possibility. Especially for me, working in my Dad’s shop through the whole thing, while Lang spent the season up to his ass in lemonade and air conditioning. He tutored Mandarin Chinese and Russian to kids two towns over and had no clue what a summer in coveralls and exhaust fumes felt like. That kind of ball-sweat-hot made so much as a toe dipped in the river water almost better than an orgasm. Of course, if Jenn and her lime green bikini slid into that water, “almost” would’ve dropped straight over the edge. A guy could dream, but she was too busy threatening Lang with bodily harm if he didn’t put his cigarette out.
“This says the average temperature’s sixty-eight degrees in December. Sixty-eight, Adam! In December! Goodbye snow shovel and gloves; hello flip-flops and shorts. That’s all I’m packing.” Lang leaned against our cooler with an almanac of Los Angeles and aimed a smoke ring toward Jenn.
“You haven’t started yet, bro? I’ve had everything but my football packed since freshman year,” I said.
Genre: Upper YA Contemporary
Word Count: 84,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Adam is used to ball-sweat-hot summers in his small town, but slipping on snow could tweak his knee and put a quick end to his college football future...and his escape to a better life.
QUERY:
Dear Fabulous Agent,
With a girlfriend damn near close to perfect, an imminent college escape out of NowhereVille, USA, and a passing arm clocked at 42 mph, everyone wants to sack quarterback Adam Emerson. But he never expected his dad to do the blindsiding, let alone the most damage.
Three weeks before graduation, Adam’s widower dad dies, and Adam’s left to bury his college dreams and NFL future. In their place, he’s saddled with the family garage to run and guardianship of his little brother, Ethan, who’s hell-bent on self-destruction.
In no time, Ethan’s fighting and drinking jeopardize his custody. And the auto shop takes such a dive, Adam’s forced to sell his dad’s beloved ’57 Ranchero just to make payroll. His coach and friends suspect he needs help, but he’s been trained to be a leader. No amount of their pushing changes his determination to hide his growing failure or his decision to handle it on his own. His relationships, the family business and home, his brother—everything that once seemed stable, everything he couldn’t wait to leave—are on the line. It’s up to Adam to admit defeat or adapt his strategy before he loses it all. Either way, his life will never be the same.
First 250:
If she were an honest-to-god drug, Jenn Deel couldn’t have had me more strung out. Her freckled shoulders and cocoa-buttered curves even made me forget the fireworks my best friend Langdon and I had snuck over state lines for. Not the best use of fake IDs and money, but it was our last Labor Day hurrah at the river.
It was also the official end of another summer spent in the armpit town of Milton, where spontaneous combustion felt like a real possibility. Especially for me, working in my Dad’s shop through the whole thing, while Lang spent the season up to his ass in lemonade and air conditioning. He tutored Mandarin Chinese and Russian to kids two towns over and had no clue what a summer in coveralls and exhaust fumes felt like. That kind of ball-sweat-hot made so much as a toe dipped in the river water almost better than an orgasm. Of course, if Jenn and her lime green bikini slid into that water, “almost” would’ve dropped straight over the edge. A guy could dream, but she was too busy threatening Lang with bodily harm if he didn’t put his cigarette out.
“This says the average temperature’s sixty-eight degrees in December. Sixty-eight, Adam! In December! Goodbye snow shovel and gloves; hello flip-flops and shorts. That’s all I’m packing.” Lang leaned against our cooler with an almanac of Los Angeles and aimed a smoke ring toward Jenn.
“You haven’t started yet, bro? I’ve had everything but my football packed since freshman year,” I said.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 5: ABOVE EDEN, YA Science Fiction
Title: ABOVE EDEN
Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 91,000
My main character is most uncomfortable with:In Eden’s Underground, the temperature is strictly controlled. She isn’t used to discomfort of any sort. Any extreme, either warm or cold, would both fascinate and terrify her. Eden prefers simulations with lots of sun and warmth, however, so the introduction of real snow would freak her out. She would still want to explore it, of course, but it wouldn’t take much time for her to long for warmth again. Query:Dear Agents Extraordinaire,
In a society deep beneath the Earth’s ruined surface, Eden’s illusions of safety are shattered when she witnesses the abduction of her brother by men who look and act nothing like citizens of the Underground.
If seventeen-year-old Eden Quinn isn’t chatting with her friends through her virtual reality halo, fighting with her mother over control of the technology in her room, or messing with her preppy younger brother, she’s probably sealed inside one of the Underground’s individual safety hatches, watching vids and waiting impatiently for another false alarm to pass. Intruders aren’t likely. Even if anything could survive Above, the Underground is well-protected.
When her brother is taken, Eden turns to an unlikely source for help. Kalon Fitch has never been one of Eden’s favorite people. Eden finds him arrogant and infuriating, and his recent increased interest in her is baffling. She has kept her distance, but now it appears that Kalon knows more about the strange men than he should, and Eden decides to trust him for the chance to save her brother.
To her surprise, Kalon leads Eden to the surface. In a world reclaimed by nature, Eden discovers that not only have people survived, but they have flourished in the technologically barren world Above. Welcomed into the small village of Heaven, Eden begins to question what she has been taught about the history of the Underground. She also realizes that there may be a connection between her brother’s abduction and a mysterious illness that has been striking down the surface population for years. Worse, it appears that Kalon’s father may be involved. Faced with this new reality, Eden must find her brother and figure out if Kalon is trying to help her, or if she will be the next to disappear.
First 250 Words:
Screaming alarms pierced Eden’s ear drums, yanking her from the fuzzy edge of a dream. When the emergency lights in her bedroom blinked on, washing everything in pale orange, reflexes born from years of emergency drills kicked in. Heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her system, she threw off her covers and ran for the door.
Eden pounded through the dwelling, heedless of her bare feet on the cold surface. Underground, all floors were cold. She wound through the living room, leeched of color but for the orange lights, and into her mother’s study. At the back of the room, she punched a button that revealed four individual safety hatches. Two were already occupied, and Eden forced her trembling fingers to punch in the code on the third one. With a hiss, the door popped open, and Eden scrambled inside.
When she was in place, the door automatically shut and latched. As Eden expected, Ilaria’s voice came over the com.
“Eden. You’re safe.”
“Yes, Ilaria,” Eden replied, rolling her eyes at her mother’s brisk and unconcerned tone.
“Good.”
“Cal?”
“He’s here,” Illaria said. “Probably sleeping. Your father is with the patrols. You should try to sleep as well.”
Eden didn’t reply. She wasn’t likely to get sleep here, but the doors wouldn’t open until the source of the alarm was established. Now that the adrenaline had passed, Eden felt only annoyance at a night spent in the small space. Grasping for the controls, she wrapped her hand around the knob that would connect her to the hatch’s internal systems.
Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 91,000
My main character is most uncomfortable with:In Eden’s Underground, the temperature is strictly controlled. She isn’t used to discomfort of any sort. Any extreme, either warm or cold, would both fascinate and terrify her. Eden prefers simulations with lots of sun and warmth, however, so the introduction of real snow would freak her out. She would still want to explore it, of course, but it wouldn’t take much time for her to long for warmth again. Query:Dear Agents Extraordinaire,
In a society deep beneath the Earth’s ruined surface, Eden’s illusions of safety are shattered when she witnesses the abduction of her brother by men who look and act nothing like citizens of the Underground.
If seventeen-year-old Eden Quinn isn’t chatting with her friends through her virtual reality halo, fighting with her mother over control of the technology in her room, or messing with her preppy younger brother, she’s probably sealed inside one of the Underground’s individual safety hatches, watching vids and waiting impatiently for another false alarm to pass. Intruders aren’t likely. Even if anything could survive Above, the Underground is well-protected.
When her brother is taken, Eden turns to an unlikely source for help. Kalon Fitch has never been one of Eden’s favorite people. Eden finds him arrogant and infuriating, and his recent increased interest in her is baffling. She has kept her distance, but now it appears that Kalon knows more about the strange men than he should, and Eden decides to trust him for the chance to save her brother.
To her surprise, Kalon leads Eden to the surface. In a world reclaimed by nature, Eden discovers that not only have people survived, but they have flourished in the technologically barren world Above. Welcomed into the small village of Heaven, Eden begins to question what she has been taught about the history of the Underground. She also realizes that there may be a connection between her brother’s abduction and a mysterious illness that has been striking down the surface population for years. Worse, it appears that Kalon’s father may be involved. Faced with this new reality, Eden must find her brother and figure out if Kalon is trying to help her, or if she will be the next to disappear.
First 250 Words:
Screaming alarms pierced Eden’s ear drums, yanking her from the fuzzy edge of a dream. When the emergency lights in her bedroom blinked on, washing everything in pale orange, reflexes born from years of emergency drills kicked in. Heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her system, she threw off her covers and ran for the door.
Eden pounded through the dwelling, heedless of her bare feet on the cold surface. Underground, all floors were cold. She wound through the living room, leeched of color but for the orange lights, and into her mother’s study. At the back of the room, she punched a button that revealed four individual safety hatches. Two were already occupied, and Eden forced her trembling fingers to punch in the code on the third one. With a hiss, the door popped open, and Eden scrambled inside.
When she was in place, the door automatically shut and latched. As Eden expected, Ilaria’s voice came over the com.
“Eden. You’re safe.”
“Yes, Ilaria,” Eden replied, rolling her eyes at her mother’s brisk and unconcerned tone.
“Good.”
“Cal?”
“He’s here,” Illaria said. “Probably sleeping. Your father is with the patrols. You should try to sleep as well.”
Eden didn’t reply. She wasn’t likely to get sleep here, but the doors wouldn’t open until the source of the alarm was established. Now that the adrenaline had passed, Eden felt only annoyance at a night spent in the small space. Grasping for the controls, she wrapped her hand around the knob that would connect her to the hatch’s internal systems.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 4: HOT TUB SANTA, Picture Book
Title: HOT TUB SANTA
Genre: 4 – 8 years old PB
Word Count: 432
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with: There’s no place like snow for Santa…a change of address would turn this rosy-cheeked, hot chocolate drinking, sled driving, jolly fellow into a thin, suntanned, salad-eating not-so-jolly dude --- and none of us want that.
Query:
Dear Agent,
When Mrs. Claus gives a stressed out Santa a hot tub as an early Christmas present, Santa is excited. But all those cookies he’s been sneaking make the climb into the hot tub a little wobbly. Thankfully, he has a few feisty penguins to give him a boost inside.After having a jolly ole time in the tub, it’s time to get ready for the Big Night. But, Santa discovers that getting out of the tub is even trickier than getting in. Not even a great big hug from a Polar Bear can get him out. And with no time left, it’s up to Santa’s friends at the North Pole to get creative – or it will be too late to deliver the presents in time for Christmas.
First 250 Words:
(Chilly and Willy are penguins)(Jingles is a reindeer)(Paws is a polar bear)(Art note: Santa is stressed with lists, schedules, maps, etc. scattered all around him.)“Merry Christmas, Santa!” Mrs. Claus cheered. “Now, you can relax and have a jolly ole time as you warm up for The Big Night.”“Great mistletoes! It’s a hot tub! Ho-ho-ho!"Mrs. Claus smiled and handed Santa his favorite striped swimsuit.Santa climbed onto the ladder. WOBBLE…
BOBBLE…
“I’m going to need a little help getting in,” Santa chuckled.
“We’ll give you a boost, Santa,” Chilly said, eagerly flapping his wings.
Chilly waddled under Santa. Willy climbed on top of Chilly’s shoulders.Chilly and Willy gave Santa
a heave…
and a ho-ho-ho!
“Come on in everyone!”
Paws brought a snorkel in his big claws…
…Jingles brought a ball to bounce off his antlers.
…And Chilly and Willy had a water flipper fight.
Santa and the others played…
…and splashed
…and had a jolly ole relaxing time.
UNTIL…“Santa!” Mrs. Claus appeared with a towel in her hand. “It’s time to get ready for the Big Night!”
Santa pushed, he pulled…
…Santa twisted sideways.
…Santa kicked his feet.
…But Santa couldn’t climb out!
“We’ll get you out, Santa!” Chilly and Willy gave Santa
a heave…
…and a ho-ho-ho…But Santa barely budged.
“Let me try!” Jingles scooched his antlers under Santa and gave Santa
a jolt…
…and jar
…But Santa just jiggled.
Genre: 4 – 8 years old PB
Word Count: 432
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with: There’s no place like snow for Santa…a change of address would turn this rosy-cheeked, hot chocolate drinking, sled driving, jolly fellow into a thin, suntanned, salad-eating not-so-jolly dude --- and none of us want that.
Query:
Dear Agent,
When Mrs. Claus gives a stressed out Santa a hot tub as an early Christmas present, Santa is excited. But all those cookies he’s been sneaking make the climb into the hot tub a little wobbly. Thankfully, he has a few feisty penguins to give him a boost inside.After having a jolly ole time in the tub, it’s time to get ready for the Big Night. But, Santa discovers that getting out of the tub is even trickier than getting in. Not even a great big hug from a Polar Bear can get him out. And with no time left, it’s up to Santa’s friends at the North Pole to get creative – or it will be too late to deliver the presents in time for Christmas.
First 250 Words:
(Chilly and Willy are penguins)(Jingles is a reindeer)(Paws is a polar bear)(Art note: Santa is stressed with lists, schedules, maps, etc. scattered all around him.)“Merry Christmas, Santa!” Mrs. Claus cheered. “Now, you can relax and have a jolly ole time as you warm up for The Big Night.”“Great mistletoes! It’s a hot tub! Ho-ho-ho!"Mrs. Claus smiled and handed Santa his favorite striped swimsuit.Santa climbed onto the ladder. WOBBLE…
BOBBLE…
“I’m going to need a little help getting in,” Santa chuckled.
“We’ll give you a boost, Santa,” Chilly said, eagerly flapping his wings.
Chilly waddled under Santa. Willy climbed on top of Chilly’s shoulders.Chilly and Willy gave Santa
a heave…
and a ho-ho-ho!
“Come on in everyone!”
Paws brought a snorkel in his big claws…
…Jingles brought a ball to bounce off his antlers.
…And Chilly and Willy had a water flipper fight.
Santa and the others played…
…and splashed
…and had a jolly ole relaxing time.
UNTIL…“Santa!” Mrs. Claus appeared with a towel in her hand. “It’s time to get ready for the Big Night!”
Santa pushed, he pulled…
…Santa twisted sideways.
…Santa kicked his feet.
…But Santa couldn’t climb out!
“We’ll get you out, Santa!” Chilly and Willy gave Santa
a heave…
…and a ho-ho-ho…But Santa barely budged.
“Let me try!” Jingles scooched his antlers under Santa and gave Santa
a jolt…
…and jar
…But Santa just jiggled.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 3: ARTHUR AND THE HEADLESS KNIGHTS OF THE FLYING ROUND TABLE, MG Science Fiction
Title: ARTHUR & THE HEADLESS KNIGHTS OF THE FLYING ROUND TABLEGenre: MG Arthurian retelling with a sci-fi twistWord Count: 60,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Sun, I despise the sun. The big ball of heat roasts the moat, and every one of Camelot’s privies plop into that foul, brown water surrounding the castle. The stench makes you want to wear a perfumed cloth over your snotbox, but you can’t because only girls wear perfume. So best breathe through your mouth and pray that a steamy onslaught of stench doesn’t crawl through an arrow slit into your bedchamber.
Query:
Dear Agent:
Twelve-year-old Prince Arthur’s plan to become a wandering minstrel includes The Sword in the Stone, so he can dash to Ye Old Pawn Shoppe and swap it for a guitar. But first, Arthur must lead Camelot’s pages to victory in paintegg combat against Prince “Big Ears” Elgbert of Cornwall. Because this year, if the captain of the winning team doesn’t get gobsmacked by an egg filled with paint, he’ll be granted a rare attempt to withdraw the sword.
But before the prize is awarded, Saxons threaten Cornwall. Camelot’s King mobilizes the army to help his ally. Unknowingly, leaving Arthur and the pages pitted against a second invasion. Headless knights, driven by little green men from the planet Leprechaun land on Stonehenge in a flying round table. With Big Ears’ help, they start abducting Camelot’s subjects, including Arthur’s sisters, seeking practitioners in the medieval science of magic. If Arthur doesn’t stop the conniving ankle-biters, minstrels will wander the empty streets of Camelot singing sad ballets of how the city lost its princesses and became the village of Camefew.
First 250 words:
My sister Fay guided me through a secret tunnel—which stayed secret thanks to her making me wear an executioner’s hood with eyeholes facing the rear.
Rats squealed as she maneuvered me through another puddle. They must have recognized Fay, because they scurried ahead faster than a fox leaving a henhouse with takeout. A rumored shortage of rat tails, the key ingredient for casting spells in Fay’s also rumored magic practice, kept Camelot’s rodent community on high alert.
Inspired by my blindness, I sang, “Three blind mice . . . see how they—ouch.” Fay’s—pointier than a rat’s nose—elbow, disliked my song. The mice’s bigger cousins, fleeing us, despised her carving knife. And nobody fancied my dream of becoming a minstrel. “Why drag me along?” I asked.
“So the cow slayer doesn’t catch me.”
I yanked my makeshift blindfold off. “How? I don’t have a sword.” “No worries. I can run faster than you. Besides, you’re madder than a bag of ferrets if you think I’d let you carry a sharp object in the dark.”
Great. Hoodwinked into missing Saturday Night Juggling to become beast bait. Soon afterwards we reached a ladder leading to the surface and climbed into a tree hollow. Outside the gnarly hole, Fay’s breath fogged. “We’re here.”
I scratched my head beneath branches besieged with mistletoe, staring at a moonlit meadow ringed with giant rocks. “Where’s here?” “Stonehenge.”
“Road apples! Stonehenge takes three days by horse.”
“Great tunnel, don’t you think?”
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Sun, I despise the sun. The big ball of heat roasts the moat, and every one of Camelot’s privies plop into that foul, brown water surrounding the castle. The stench makes you want to wear a perfumed cloth over your snotbox, but you can’t because only girls wear perfume. So best breathe through your mouth and pray that a steamy onslaught of stench doesn’t crawl through an arrow slit into your bedchamber.
Query:
Dear Agent:
Twelve-year-old Prince Arthur’s plan to become a wandering minstrel includes The Sword in the Stone, so he can dash to Ye Old Pawn Shoppe and swap it for a guitar. But first, Arthur must lead Camelot’s pages to victory in paintegg combat against Prince “Big Ears” Elgbert of Cornwall. Because this year, if the captain of the winning team doesn’t get gobsmacked by an egg filled with paint, he’ll be granted a rare attempt to withdraw the sword.
But before the prize is awarded, Saxons threaten Cornwall. Camelot’s King mobilizes the army to help his ally. Unknowingly, leaving Arthur and the pages pitted against a second invasion. Headless knights, driven by little green men from the planet Leprechaun land on Stonehenge in a flying round table. With Big Ears’ help, they start abducting Camelot’s subjects, including Arthur’s sisters, seeking practitioners in the medieval science of magic. If Arthur doesn’t stop the conniving ankle-biters, minstrels will wander the empty streets of Camelot singing sad ballets of how the city lost its princesses and became the village of Camefew.
First 250 words:
My sister Fay guided me through a secret tunnel—which stayed secret thanks to her making me wear an executioner’s hood with eyeholes facing the rear.
Rats squealed as she maneuvered me through another puddle. They must have recognized Fay, because they scurried ahead faster than a fox leaving a henhouse with takeout. A rumored shortage of rat tails, the key ingredient for casting spells in Fay’s also rumored magic practice, kept Camelot’s rodent community on high alert.
Inspired by my blindness, I sang, “Three blind mice . . . see how they—ouch.” Fay’s—pointier than a rat’s nose—elbow, disliked my song. The mice’s bigger cousins, fleeing us, despised her carving knife. And nobody fancied my dream of becoming a minstrel. “Why drag me along?” I asked.
“So the cow slayer doesn’t catch me.”
I yanked my makeshift blindfold off. “How? I don’t have a sword.” “No worries. I can run faster than you. Besides, you’re madder than a bag of ferrets if you think I’d let you carry a sharp object in the dark.”
Great. Hoodwinked into missing Saturday Night Juggling to become beast bait. Soon afterwards we reached a ladder leading to the surface and climbed into a tree hollow. Outside the gnarly hole, Fay’s breath fogged. “We’re here.”
I scratched my head beneath branches besieged with mistletoe, staring at a moonlit meadow ringed with giant rocks. “Where’s here?” “Stonehenge.”
“Road apples! Stonehenge takes three days by horse.”
“Great tunnel, don’t you think?”
SVS AGENT Round Entry 2: A TEMPORARY CONVENIENCE, Adult Romantic Mystery
Title: A TEMPORARY CONVENIENCE
Genre: Adult Romantic Mystery
Word Count: 89,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:Snow is demonstrably inferior to sun. Many civilizations have worshipped the sun – realizing that, without it, life would be impossible. No photosynthesis would mean no food, while no Vitamin D production from sunshine would remove the strength to go get food even if it existed. But you can live quite comfortably without snow. You can plan for sunny weather, too. However, snowfall is unpredictable, tricky, and sometimes unsafe. And did humans evolve in the Arctic? Of course not. Honestly, then, why would any rational person be at ease around frozen water unless it’s cooling a lovely single-malt Scotch?Query:The last time a Macdonald trusted a Campbell, the Glencoe Massacre followed. Although that happened centuries ago, it’s hard to forget the slaughter of defenseless innocents by their guests – especially if your name is Beth Macdonald and you have a Ph.D. in medieval and early modern Scottish history. Unfortunately, that degree hadn’t led to permanent employment. Then Dorie Campbell, star of DC society and overly generous art dealer, materializes and offers to rescue Beth from a life of temp work.The job is too tempting to pass up, even if Beth doesn’t feel qualified for the work and can’t understand how Dorie had heard of her and decided to seek her out. An actual career is appealing, and so is the fact that now her parents appear proud of her at last. This dream position even puts Beth in exquisite proximity with Dorie’s rich, hunky tax accountant/personal banker Ted Bruce, who acts so smitten he even tracks down and reads her dissertation and listens attentively to her impassioned defense of good king Macbeth.However, the business records Beth is ordered to organize are hinky, and Dorie and her husband keep lying about matters big and small. Beth discovers the IRS is asking questions and a member of the local Mob family has some, too. She doesn’t want to work for a crook (if that’s what Dorie is) and is alarmed when the Campbells reach out to her parents both socially and professionally. And she also doesn’t desire to end up like Dorie’s previous assistant, a convenient scapegoat for the messed-up business records – and nowhere to be found. Learning of her predecessor’s coolness to Ted Bruce’s ardent overtures and of his bad boy reputation makes Beth even more uneasy.Feeling trapped, Beth realizes she needs to brush off the investigation skills she learned in grad school and research the possible misdeeds of some modern Campbells – and her stunning new admirer – before she and her parents take the fall for something illegal. Or worse.Thank you for your time and consideration.First 250 words:I practiced a confident smile in the rearview mirror of my parked Prius, but didn’t quite manage the task – for I had no reason for confidence.My mental rehearsal of answers to potential job interview questions hadn’t been any more successful. This was my first shot at a permanent position, and it had come with little time to prepare. How could I gloss over that massive gap in my resume? What about:"Before working as an office temp, I obtained two post-graduate degrees. But my honest conclusions were not appreciated, so an academic career proved impossible. However, I've always longed for a permanent position where truth is valued."No, Beth. I sighed. The longer I sat outside the imposing iron gates to the Campbell’s Potomac estate, the more idiotic my imagined answers became. I wanted to sound like a principled teller of truth, not a pain in the ass. Further, Miss Brooks, owner of Capitol Temporary Services, claimed I shouldn't mention my degrees. As my defense-attorney dad always said: don't volunteer unfortunate facts.I suppose they were right. For instance, I’d told Miss Brooks she’d misnamed the firm. There was no capitol in Columbia, Maryland. Capital was more accurate and positive, associated with both useful resources and the locally popular hockey team. She hadn’t appreciated my knowledge base.
I’d impressed my boss this morning, though. Dorie Campbell, art dealer and luminary of DC society, had called Capitol to say I seemed a strong candidate to become her new personal assistant. Why was not explained and certainly wasn’t self-evident.
Genre: Adult Romantic Mystery
Word Count: 89,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:Snow is demonstrably inferior to sun. Many civilizations have worshipped the sun – realizing that, without it, life would be impossible. No photosynthesis would mean no food, while no Vitamin D production from sunshine would remove the strength to go get food even if it existed. But you can live quite comfortably without snow. You can plan for sunny weather, too. However, snowfall is unpredictable, tricky, and sometimes unsafe. And did humans evolve in the Arctic? Of course not. Honestly, then, why would any rational person be at ease around frozen water unless it’s cooling a lovely single-malt Scotch?Query:The last time a Macdonald trusted a Campbell, the Glencoe Massacre followed. Although that happened centuries ago, it’s hard to forget the slaughter of defenseless innocents by their guests – especially if your name is Beth Macdonald and you have a Ph.D. in medieval and early modern Scottish history. Unfortunately, that degree hadn’t led to permanent employment. Then Dorie Campbell, star of DC society and overly generous art dealer, materializes and offers to rescue Beth from a life of temp work.The job is too tempting to pass up, even if Beth doesn’t feel qualified for the work and can’t understand how Dorie had heard of her and decided to seek her out. An actual career is appealing, and so is the fact that now her parents appear proud of her at last. This dream position even puts Beth in exquisite proximity with Dorie’s rich, hunky tax accountant/personal banker Ted Bruce, who acts so smitten he even tracks down and reads her dissertation and listens attentively to her impassioned defense of good king Macbeth.However, the business records Beth is ordered to organize are hinky, and Dorie and her husband keep lying about matters big and small. Beth discovers the IRS is asking questions and a member of the local Mob family has some, too. She doesn’t want to work for a crook (if that’s what Dorie is) and is alarmed when the Campbells reach out to her parents both socially and professionally. And she also doesn’t desire to end up like Dorie’s previous assistant, a convenient scapegoat for the messed-up business records – and nowhere to be found. Learning of her predecessor’s coolness to Ted Bruce’s ardent overtures and of his bad boy reputation makes Beth even more uneasy.Feeling trapped, Beth realizes she needs to brush off the investigation skills she learned in grad school and research the possible misdeeds of some modern Campbells – and her stunning new admirer – before she and her parents take the fall for something illegal. Or worse.Thank you for your time and consideration.First 250 words:I practiced a confident smile in the rearview mirror of my parked Prius, but didn’t quite manage the task – for I had no reason for confidence.My mental rehearsal of answers to potential job interview questions hadn’t been any more successful. This was my first shot at a permanent position, and it had come with little time to prepare. How could I gloss over that massive gap in my resume? What about:"Before working as an office temp, I obtained two post-graduate degrees. But my honest conclusions were not appreciated, so an academic career proved impossible. However, I've always longed for a permanent position where truth is valued."No, Beth. I sighed. The longer I sat outside the imposing iron gates to the Campbell’s Potomac estate, the more idiotic my imagined answers became. I wanted to sound like a principled teller of truth, not a pain in the ass. Further, Miss Brooks, owner of Capitol Temporary Services, claimed I shouldn't mention my degrees. As my defense-attorney dad always said: don't volunteer unfortunate facts.I suppose they were right. For instance, I’d told Miss Brooks she’d misnamed the firm. There was no capitol in Columbia, Maryland. Capital was more accurate and positive, associated with both useful resources and the locally popular hockey team. She hadn’t appreciated my knowledge base.
I’d impressed my boss this morning, though. Dorie Campbell, art dealer and luminary of DC society, had called Capitol to say I seemed a strong candidate to become her new personal assistant. Why was not explained and certainly wasn’t self-evident.
SVS AGENT Round Entry 1: SCRIPTED, YA Contemporary
Title: SCRIPTEDGenre: YA ContemporaryWord Count: 56,000
My main character is most uncomfortable with:
The blazing beam of the sun while Dani and her other nine siblings are out picking veggies and fruit on their ten-acre farm.
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Dani is the second of ten, soon to be eleven kids, living the dream of homespun goodness on her family’s farm. Or at least that’s what her YouTube videos geared toward the organic-crazed earth mothers would have you believe. With Momma and Daddy determined to keep popping out babies until the family can land their own reality show, Dani's too busy chasing the little ones to figure out how she feels.
It isn't until she meets fellow YouTuber and high school reporter Duncan that she begins to question her “anything for the family” attitude. Wrapped up in their blossoming romance, her many familial obligations take a backseat. After being blamed for her baby sister almost drowning, Dani proclaims her individuality by whipping up a rebellious YouTube video.
When the video goes viral, suddenly there’s a TV producer offering them Momma's long-sought after dream. But with a catch—the family must follow a carefully written script and Dani’s cast as the villain. Dani must choose whether to accept the role the TV execs have planned for her, or to forge her own path. If she chooses the latter, it may oust her from the crazy family she loves so much and they’ll lose the farm.
First 250 Words:
It always happened in public. An older woman would spot all ten of us together—looking like clones, with eerily similar straight brown hair and blue eyes. This woman, middle-aged, deep hollows carving out her cheekbones, asked the oh-so familiar question. "Is your family religious?"
No. We don't have an inkling of religion in us. That wasn't counting Aunt Daisy's needle-pointed inspirational messages that hung askew on our basement walls.
I stayed on script with my answer. We had to protect our YouTube image. If the woman asked, I’d supply her with the name of our channel. "Yes, we're Catholic," I fibbed, caressing the silver filigree cross that was looped around my neck. I had to reposition it so the cross stayed put, front and center.
In front of the grocery store, my older brother, David, motioned for me to hurry up and join him. But I waited, seeing if this woman would offer anything. Most did.
I gave the woman an extra minute before saying, "I have to go." She was too busy gawking at my siblings.
"Wait!" She dug around in her banged-up leather purse until she produced a thin, white card. "Here's my number and the church I work at. If ya'll ever need anything, you name it. I'd love to have ya'll come in one Sunday as special guests."
“Thanks,” I said, smiling politely before excusing myself. As I ran into the grocery store, I bent the card with my forefinger, tempted to toss it in the trash. Don't do that. Momma will want it.
My main character is most uncomfortable with:
The blazing beam of the sun while Dani and her other nine siblings are out picking veggies and fruit on their ten-acre farm.
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Dani is the second of ten, soon to be eleven kids, living the dream of homespun goodness on her family’s farm. Or at least that’s what her YouTube videos geared toward the organic-crazed earth mothers would have you believe. With Momma and Daddy determined to keep popping out babies until the family can land their own reality show, Dani's too busy chasing the little ones to figure out how she feels.
It isn't until she meets fellow YouTuber and high school reporter Duncan that she begins to question her “anything for the family” attitude. Wrapped up in their blossoming romance, her many familial obligations take a backseat. After being blamed for her baby sister almost drowning, Dani proclaims her individuality by whipping up a rebellious YouTube video.
When the video goes viral, suddenly there’s a TV producer offering them Momma's long-sought after dream. But with a catch—the family must follow a carefully written script and Dani’s cast as the villain. Dani must choose whether to accept the role the TV execs have planned for her, or to forge her own path. If she chooses the latter, it may oust her from the crazy family she loves so much and they’ll lose the farm.
First 250 Words:
It always happened in public. An older woman would spot all ten of us together—looking like clones, with eerily similar straight brown hair and blue eyes. This woman, middle-aged, deep hollows carving out her cheekbones, asked the oh-so familiar question. "Is your family religious?"
No. We don't have an inkling of religion in us. That wasn't counting Aunt Daisy's needle-pointed inspirational messages that hung askew on our basement walls.
I stayed on script with my answer. We had to protect our YouTube image. If the woman asked, I’d supply her with the name of our channel. "Yes, we're Catholic," I fibbed, caressing the silver filigree cross that was looped around my neck. I had to reposition it so the cross stayed put, front and center.
In front of the grocery store, my older brother, David, motioned for me to hurry up and join him. But I waited, seeing if this woman would offer anything. Most did.
I gave the woman an extra minute before saying, "I have to go." She was too busy gawking at my siblings.
"Wait!" She dug around in her banged-up leather purse until she produced a thin, white card. "Here's my number and the church I work at. If ya'll ever need anything, you name it. I'd love to have ya'll come in one Sunday as special guests."
“Thanks,” I said, smiling politely before excusing myself. As I ran into the grocery store, I bent the card with my forefinger, tempted to toss it in the trash. Don't do that. Momma will want it.
WELCOME TO THE SUN VERSUS SNOW AGENT ROUND
THE AGENT ROUND OF SUN VERSUS SNOW BEGINS NOW!
JOY! JOY!
Our 15 agents will soon be busy making their selections from the thirty entries! Please head over to Amy’s blog at Chasing The Crazies to find out how Team Sun is doing. And scroll down to find Team Snow!
Remember again that contests are subjective. What tickles one person’s fancy, may do nothing for another. No matter what, keep querying!
Before Team Snow puts a snowball in the eye of Team Sun, here are some guidelines!
There is no commenting in this round, except for our fifteen agents. Sorry, but no cheerleading as this may lead to an unconscious bias.
But we are happy to see and retweet your thoughts and cheers over on twitter under the #sunvssnow tag! That’s the place to hang out and have fun!
I’d better be seeing my Team Snow members there. Get out your pompoms! These Snow Angels are going to stick together and celebrate with each other! Ain’t no melting this blizzard of a celebration!
Also Amy and I will be tweeting when an agent makes an appearance! For the fastest notice, keep an eye on twitter—or both eyes.
Agents will consider entries at both the blogs, regardless of whether they are Sun or Snow lasses. Only the phrasing of the agent’s request will let you know whether they’re on the side of SNOW (yay!) or SUN (boo!).
Amy and I are hoping the agents go crazy with the requests! There is amazing talent here on both teams!
GOOD LUCK! YOU BET YOUR CARROT NOSE, IT’S GOING TO BE A SHINING AND FREEZING RIDE!
JOY! JOY!
Our 15 agents will soon be busy making their selections from the thirty entries! Please head over to Amy’s blog at Chasing The Crazies to find out how Team Sun is doing. And scroll down to find Team Snow!
Remember again that contests are subjective. What tickles one person’s fancy, may do nothing for another. No matter what, keep querying!
Before Team Snow puts a snowball in the eye of Team Sun, here are some guidelines!
There is no commenting in this round, except for our fifteen agents. Sorry, but no cheerleading as this may lead to an unconscious bias.
But we are happy to see and retweet your thoughts and cheers over on twitter under the #sunvssnow tag! That’s the place to hang out and have fun!
I’d better be seeing my Team Snow members there. Get out your pompoms! These Snow Angels are going to stick together and celebrate with each other! Ain’t no melting this blizzard of a celebration!
Also Amy and I will be tweeting when an agent makes an appearance! For the fastest notice, keep an eye on twitter—or both eyes.
Agents will consider entries at both the blogs, regardless of whether they are Sun or Snow lasses. Only the phrasing of the agent’s request will let you know whether they’re on the side of SNOW (yay!) or SUN (boo!).
Amy and I are hoping the agents go crazy with the requests! There is amazing talent here on both teams!
GOOD LUCK! YOU BET YOUR CARROT NOSE, IT’S GOING TO BE A SHINING AND FREEZING RIDE!
January 31, 2014
New Release- FACE OF DEATH
I'm wishing a happy release month to Kelly Hashway, who is part of my agent family! Check out her latest release from Spencer Hill Press.
Having fallen at the hands of Hades, Jodi's enduring torture like she never imagined. Worse, she has to watch her Ophi friends suffer along with her--the punishment doled out by the very people she'd sentenced to life in Tartarus. Hell. This is one reunion Jodi hoped would never happen, but now she must find a way to free them all.
Except the underworld is nearly impossible to escape.
Jodi's one chance may rest in raising the human soul she killed when she drank Medusa's blood.
But splitting her human soul from her Ophi soul means living a double life: One as an Ophi experiencing unspeakable torture and the other as the human she could have been if she never came into her powers. With her two worlds colliding, Jodi will have to make the toughest decision she's faced yet.
AmazonBarnes and NobleGoodreads
Kelly Hashway grew up reading R.L. Stein’s Fear Street novels and writing stories of her own, so it was no surprise to her family when she majored in English and later obtained a masters degree in English Secondary Education from East Stroudsburg University. After teaching middle school language arts for seven years, Hashway went back to school and focused specifically on writing. She is now the author of three young adult series, one middle grade series, and several picture books. She also writes contemporary romance under the pen name Ashelyn Drake. When she isn’t writing, Hashway works as a freelance editor for small presses as well as for her own list of clients. In her spare time, she enjoys running, traveling, and volunteering with the PTO. Hashway currently resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, and two pets.
Email: khashway@hotmail.comWebsite: www.kellyhashway.comBlog: http://kellyhashway.blogspot.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/kellyhashwayTwitter: https://twitter.com/kellyhashway Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KellyHashway
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Having fallen at the hands of Hades, Jodi's enduring torture like she never imagined. Worse, she has to watch her Ophi friends suffer along with her--the punishment doled out by the very people she'd sentenced to life in Tartarus. Hell. This is one reunion Jodi hoped would never happen, but now she must find a way to free them all.
Except the underworld is nearly impossible to escape.
Jodi's one chance may rest in raising the human soul she killed when she drank Medusa's blood.
But splitting her human soul from her Ophi soul means living a double life: One as an Ophi experiencing unspeakable torture and the other as the human she could have been if she never came into her powers. With her two worlds colliding, Jodi will have to make the toughest decision she's faced yet.
AmazonBarnes and NobleGoodreads
Kelly Hashway grew up reading R.L. Stein’s Fear Street novels and writing stories of her own, so it was no surprise to her family when she majored in English and later obtained a masters degree in English Secondary Education from East Stroudsburg University. After teaching middle school language arts for seven years, Hashway went back to school and focused specifically on writing. She is now the author of three young adult series, one middle grade series, and several picture books. She also writes contemporary romance under the pen name Ashelyn Drake. When she isn’t writing, Hashway works as a freelance editor for small presses as well as for her own list of clients. In her spare time, she enjoys running, traveling, and volunteering with the PTO. Hashway currently resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, and two pets.
Email: khashway@hotmail.comWebsite: www.kellyhashway.comBlog: http://kellyhashway.blogspot.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/kellyhashwayTwitter: https://twitter.com/kellyhashway Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KellyHashway
