I signed with my agent a few months ago, and I've just finished up the revisions they requested for my 88,000 word romcom (moderate spice). I'd love a second set of eyes for inconsistencies, because even though the story hasn't changed, there was a lot of rearranging (different timelines, a few minor characters removed or added, a few new chapters, etc.). I'm sick of reading my own writing, lol, and am sure I've missed some things. I'd also love to know parts you didn't like or that drew you out of the story for whatever reasons. I'd also particularly love the input of women who have ADHD. No AI please!
Here's the blurb:
Annabelle’s newest landscaping client, Griffin Grant, is her biggest and most elusive customer, and when they finally meet in person she discovers he’s also the rudest. After a heated argument over pesticides, he ruthlessly terminates their contract without paying for services already rendered. Clearly Griffin’s a weed of the worst variety, which is why it's so confusing when he hits on Annabelle a few weeks later at a club. When she realizes he doesn’t recognize her without her head-to-toe landscaping gear, a reckless idea forms. Why not pretend to be someone else? She could go on a few dates at his expense in order to recoup the money he owes her, and toy with his heart the way he toyed with her fledgling career.
At first it’s fun being ‘Veronica Violet’, the accomplished alter-ego Annabelle and her undiagnosed ADHD could only dream of being, but Griffin fails to be the one-dimensional villain her conscience needs him to be. He’s supportive and nurturing, pushing Annabelle to be the best version of herself. It’s impossible not to fall for him, but this is one tangle of weeds she's not sure she can get out of—Griffin would hate her forever if he knew who she really was.
Here's the first few paragraphs:
Chapter 1
Whoever said the only difference between a flower and a weed is judgement has never grabbed onto a giant fistful of stinging nettle, I’m willing to bet my entire collection of vintage Anne of Green Gables books on it. I suck in my breath and whimper as angry red lashes bubble up on the underside of my hand. How can a plant even do that? Seriously, my fingers might as well be on fire right now. I wish I could say I’m surprised I missed the telltale veining on the surface of the nettle leaves, but this is the sort of self-inflicted catastrophe that happens all the time. Eyebrows crumpled in frustration, I back away from the dark green weed as fronds of overgrown cattails bend in my wake. There aren’t any more jerk plants lurking around here, are there? A nearby door slams shut, and the sudden noise supersedes my pain with something even more urgent. My head jerks around. The ghost client. Can you be ghosted by someone you’ve never technically met or have no feelings for? I mean, I have a lot of feelings for this particular client, but they’re mostly financial. Fingers splayed and quivering, I squint through my heavy-duty side-blocking sunglasses at the tall, broad-shouldered form that’s appeared on the front porch some twenty feet away. Finally, I can meet him in person. “Hi there!” I yell as I try to take a step. My boot resists in the mud before releasing with a loud squelch. I stumble as I regain my balance, my body still tingling with the pain-induced shock of having a thousand jagged nettles buried in my flesh. The man’s head swivels, and it seems to take a moment for him to spot me in the early morning sunshine. In his defence, I’m wearing head-to-toe green which essentially camouflages me amidst the foliage. My bulky, sage canvas jumpsuit might not be the most attractive item in my closet, but there’s not much room for fashion in landscaping. My hair is braided and tucked under an equally fashion-averse dark green sunhat, and my ivy-patterned bandana completely covers the lower part of my face in an attempt to stave off sneeze-inducing pollen. Remembered everything but my gardening gloves. Those are most likely sitting on my kitchen counter, along with my lunch, a jumbo pack of allergy pills, and the sticky note with the words don’t forget written on it in large letters. I wave to the man as the sensation in my hand goes from engulfed in flames to raging inferno. “Good morning!” I shout. Even from this distance I can see him tilt his head at me in a vaguely surprised motion. “Do you have a minute?” It’s only then I notice he’s on the phone. He raises a finger to me, the low murmur of his deep voice intermingling with the chirping of the morning birds. I take another squelching step, eyes trained on my elusive client as if he’ll disappear if I look away. I’ve only had my landscaping business for two-and-a-half months, but even I know it’s weird I haven’t met this client in person yet. We’ve admittedly exchanged enough emails to qualify as a small epistolary novel, but this project is too important for me to cut corners. We need to walk his property together so he can really get a feel for what I have planned. I’m fully emerged from the weed-infested ditch by the time he pulls his phone away from his ear and pockets it. Now’s my chance.
I'm happy to email the first few chapters to see if it's a good fit for your reading list. I prefer to use google docs. Thank you for your time!
I signed with my agent a few months ago, and I've just finished up the revisions they requested for my 88,000 word romcom (moderate spice). I'd love a second set of eyes for inconsistencies, because even though the story hasn't changed, there was a lot of rearranging (different timelines, a few minor characters removed or added, a few new chapters, etc.). I'm sick of reading my own writing, lol, and am sure I've missed some things. I'd also love to know parts you didn't like or that drew you out of the story for whatever reasons. I'd also particularly love the input of women who have ADHD. No AI please!
Here's the blurb:
Annabelle’s newest landscaping client, Griffin Grant, is her biggest and most elusive customer, and when they finally meet in person she discovers he’s also the rudest. After a heated argument over pesticides, he ruthlessly terminates their contract without paying for services already rendered. Clearly Griffin’s a weed of the worst variety, which is why it's so confusing when he hits on Annabelle a few weeks later at a club. When she realizes he doesn’t recognize her without her head-to-toe landscaping gear, a reckless idea forms. Why not pretend to be someone else? She could go on a few dates at his expense in order to recoup the money he owes her, and toy with his heart the way he toyed with her fledgling career.
At first it’s fun being ‘Veronica Violet’, the accomplished alter-ego Annabelle and her undiagnosed ADHD could only dream of being, but Griffin fails to be the one-dimensional villain her conscience needs him to be. He’s supportive and nurturing, pushing Annabelle to be the best version of herself. It’s impossible not to fall for him, but this is one tangle of weeds she's not sure she can get out of—Griffin would hate her forever if he knew who she really was.
Here's the first few paragraphs:
Chapter 1
Whoever said the only difference between a flower and a weed is judgement has never grabbed onto a giant fistful of stinging nettle, I’m willing to bet my entire collection of vintage Anne of Green Gables books on it. I suck in my breath and whimper as angry red lashes bubble up on the underside of my hand. How can a plant even do that? Seriously, my fingers might as well be on fire right now. I wish I could say I’m surprised I missed the telltale veining on the surface of the nettle leaves, but this is the sort of self-inflicted catastrophe that happens all the time. Eyebrows crumpled in frustration, I back away from the dark green weed as fronds of overgrown cattails bend in my wake. There aren’t any more jerk plants lurking around here, are there?
A nearby door slams shut, and the sudden noise supersedes my pain with something even more urgent. My head jerks around.
The ghost client.
Can you be ghosted by someone you’ve never technically met or have no feelings for? I mean, I have a lot of feelings for this particular client, but they’re mostly financial. Fingers splayed and quivering, I squint through my heavy-duty side-blocking sunglasses at the tall, broad-shouldered form that’s appeared on the front porch some twenty feet away. Finally, I can meet him in person.
“Hi there!” I yell as I try to take a step. My boot resists in the mud before releasing with a loud squelch. I stumble as I regain my balance, my body still tingling with the pain-induced shock of having a thousand jagged nettles buried in my flesh. The man’s head swivels, and it seems to take a moment for him to spot me in the early morning sunshine. In his defence, I’m wearing head-to-toe green which essentially camouflages me amidst the foliage. My bulky, sage canvas jumpsuit might not be the most attractive item in my closet, but there’s not much room for fashion in landscaping. My hair is braided and tucked under an equally fashion-averse dark green sunhat, and my ivy-patterned bandana completely covers the lower part of my face in an attempt to stave off sneeze-inducing pollen. Remembered everything but my gardening gloves. Those are most likely sitting on my kitchen counter, along with my lunch, a jumbo pack of allergy pills, and the sticky note with the words don’t forget written on it in large letters.
I wave to the man as the sensation in my hand goes from engulfed in flames to raging inferno. “Good morning!” I shout. Even from this distance I can see him tilt his head at me in a vaguely surprised motion. “Do you have a minute?”
It’s only then I notice he’s on the phone. He raises a finger to me, the low murmur of his deep voice intermingling with the chirping of the morning birds. I take another squelching step, eyes trained on my elusive client as if he’ll disappear if I look away. I’ve only had my landscaping business for two-and-a-half months, but even I know it’s weird I haven’t met this client in person yet. We’ve admittedly exchanged enough emails to qualify as a small epistolary novel, but this project is too important for me to cut corners. We need to walk his property together so he can really get a feel for what I have planned.
I’m fully emerged from the weed-infested ditch by the time he pulls his phone away from his ear and pockets it.
Now’s my chance.
I'm happy to email the first few chapters to see if it's a good fit for your reading list. I prefer to use google docs. Thank you for your time!