Dear Secret Agent,
When seventeen-year-old Rachel is bitten and changed by Simon, a werewolf with a grudge against her uncle, she does what any sensible girl would do: run as far the hell away as she can get. The problem is her uncle's house in California is the only home she has ever known, and after a few days of driving east, she realizes that soon the Atlantic Ocean will put a flaw in her brilliant plan. Full of frustration and fatigue, she takes a risk and stops in a small-town hotel for the night, only to find another werewolf intent on changing her life.
Despite their rocky first meeting, the local pack leader insists that he can help, and not only with her new identity issues. Simon is still on the hunt for Rachel, and she's not even slightly capable of facing him. Yet.
As she waits for Simon to make his move, Rachel trains with the pack leader, learns to hold her own around other werewolves in the pack, and even makes some friends in the process. None of it will matter though, unless she can convince herself that even though she lost her best friend, her uncle, and her boyfriend Michael, Rachel still has something to live for. But she's not really buying it, because Michael didn't just die. He was murdered.
By Rachel.
Morgantown is a completed 98,000-word urban fantasy young adult novel. Although it stands alone, I plan on expanding Morgantown into a series. This is my first novel.
I am pursuing an English degree at Northwestern University. I am the co-founder and leader of an on-campus critique group, and was featured as upcoming talent to watch in the online magazine (www.michalstefillin.com). I am an active member of YAlitchat (a writing community on both twitter and ning) and an avid reader of young adult novels. I also recently won agent Jim McCarthy's first lines contest on his blog, (http://dglm.blogspot.com/2010/05/first-lines-we-have-winner.html).
I would be happy to send you my complete manuscript for further consideration. Thank you so much for your time!
***
I wondered if the girl sitting at the front desk knew things like me existed. How would she react if I told her? Would she be afraid? Would she embrace it? Maybe she would hit the ground running, like I had. I watched with envy as she yawned and flipped through a magazine, glancing at the clock with longing. Her life was probably blissfully normal.
“Rachel, why do I have to book the room?” Kerrie asked from the passenger seat. We’d been in the parking lot for over ten minutes, and night had long since fallen. I wanted to either get inside, or keep driving.
I turned to her and pointed to the gashes on my cheeks. “I think I look just a little more suspicious than you do.” Every time I talked, I felt the thin, brick red scabs pulling on my skin.
She sighed. “And my pale skin won’t be suspicious?”
“You’ve always been pale.” It’s the blue bags under your eyes and the elongated canines she’d notice first, I didn’t say.
“Do we have to stop here?” she said, glancing up at the blinking motel sign. The “L” didn’t light up, so the only thing visible from the highway was “Mote.” It was the only sign of civilization we’d seen in forty miles, save for a few desolate gas stations. City lights flashed on the horizon, but I couldn’t handle crowds. Not yet.
I shrugged. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep moving."
