To see or post comments, click on the blog post title to be "in" the post.
I have a new blog! It's over at my new website. So make sure to go over there for new posts as this blog will be closing soon!

Monday, May 3, 2010


Dear Secret Agent:

Thank you for agreeing to judge the Angel and Demons contest. I am pleased to submit my query and the first 250 words of my manuscript, WILDFLOWER EYES.

Sixteen-year-old Tessa Carson is being hunted. Twelve different homes. Twelve new identities. The killer has found the Carsons every single time. He doesn’t care that Tessa is the sole member of her family without a paranormal ability; he wants her, too.

Scarred physically and emotionally by the killer’s first attack eight years ago, Tessa meets charismatic, carefree Tristan Walker soon after fleeing to a new location. At first she resists her feeling for him—after all, Tristan will never even know her real name. And how can she allow herself to fall in love when it’s bound to end in tragedy?

It’s only after Tristan reveals his own psychic talent that Tessa gives in to her feelings for him. Hopeful for the first time, she confesses her family’s secrets. But when the killer captures Tessa and her family, she learns Tristan has not confessed all his secrets in return. As her search for safety and strength comes to an end, Tessa discovers the truth about her boyfriend, the killer, her parents, and even herself.

A tale of love and loyalty, betrayal and forgiveness, WILDFLOWER EYES is a 92,000 word young adult paranormal romance. Tessa’s further adventures are in the works. I am a member of SCBWI, RWA, and YA-RWA. Thank you for your time and consideration.

My cell phone rang, loud and shrill, in the quiet classroom. I froze as all eyes turned to me.
He had found us. He was coming.
The teacher scowled. She reached out to confiscate my phone as I flipped it open. I had to answer before the second ring—that was the rule.
I heard my mother’s panicked voice: Run.
With fumbling fingers, I grabbed my textbook and notes, then stuffed them into my bag. I could leave nothing personal behind—that was another rule.
Every second, he was getting closer.
I stumbled toward the door.
“Where are you going, Maddie?” the teacher demanded, then her voice softened. “Are you crying, honey? Is something wrong?”
I rushed past her and out of the classroom. My breath came in stuttery gasps as my sobs echoed in the empty halls.
Dennis Connelly was coming. How had he found us again?
I raced down the stairs and through the cafeteria, almost colliding into a girl carrying a tray. I swiped my tears away so I could see, then ran to the lobby. A security guard stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Where’s your pass?”
 “Please,” I begged.
My brother Logan rushed into the lobby, lugging his book bag and saxophone. He took my other arm and met the guard’s eyes. “Let her go.”
The terror in Logan’s eyes betrayed his calm and firm tone. He pulled me away, and we ran out the front doors.