Cupid’s Literary Connection #TheWVoice

Winner winner chicken dinner! Okay so I know I only made their lottery but hey, you can’t win if you don’t enter. Am I right, or am I right?

Pretty much, Cupid's Literary Connection is having a competition that’s similar to the television show The Voice (which I love btw.) Here is Cupid’s contest linky. Now they want me to post my query and the first 250 words on my blog, where it will be judged by four people. IF I’m selected, they will coach me on my entry, help me polish it and post it on their blog where a very nice list of agents will vote on their favorites.

Wish me luck. Here it is:

I’m seeking representation for my 72,000 word YA contemporary romance, SOUTH OF SUNSHINE.

Seventeen-year-old Kaycee McCoy, a girl with “yes, ma’am” ingrained in her DNA, has had her share of boyfriends, but she’s never enjoyed kissing any of them. When beautiful and worldly Bren Dawson moves to Sunshine, Tennessee, Kaycee falls for her, hard. In a small town where factory closings threaten your livelihood and religion curbs your behavior, coming out could only bring shame to her family. But Kaycee is swept up in a whirlwind of exciting new emotions, and lets her guard down. One night under a fat country moon, Kaycee’s best friend catches them kissing, and her whole world comes crashing down.

Deep-seated bigotry runs Bren’s family out of town when her life is threatened. In the wake of losing her first love, Kaycee is shunned by the townspeople she’s always trusted and a mother who prepares to send her daughter to evangelical home school to be fixed. Ultimately she must decide how much she’s willing to risk in order to gain their acceptance and be true to herself, even if it means losing everything.

250 WORDS:
Chapter 1

Dave Bradford’s tongue feels like a fat slug in my mouth. The bell rings, and I smack my lips off his and regret sneaking out of class early for this. I use the back of my hand to clear the slobber. He watches me, his brow creasing. It’s then I realize what I think is a smile on my face is more like a pucker of disgust. I show more teeth in hopes it looks like a grin—and not like a chimpanzee baring its gums.

“Do you like…kissing?” asks Dave. I can’t help but feel he’s asking more than he’s asking.

The locker hallways crowd with students. Someone bumps me from behind, and I jerk back to keep from slamming into Dave’s camel lips. The flinch doesn’t go unnoticed. Dave cocks a brow, waiting.

It should be an easy answer. A yes or no would do, but it’s not that simple. I’ve kissed lots of boys. Well, what I think would be lots for the average seventeen-year-old girl. If we’re talking, say, Becky Staggs—who has perused every set of lips this side of the Mississippi—then my lip-locking would be a drop in a bucket.

My first kiss, French kiss, was the single most disgusting moment in my life. Brandon Hayes, the boy I decided would be a fitting summer boyfriend between seventh and eighth grade, had been going out with me a whole two weeks. He pulled me under one of those big beautiful oak trees during the heat of summer. The butterflies in my stomach migrated to my throat. Their wings racked against my esophagus, trying to get the hell out of there. Before I could decipher why the moment felt so terribly wrong, he shoved his tongue into my mouth. It took a full thirty seconds of teeth gnashing and tongue lapping before I started to reciprocate. Or my best interpretation of what I thought I was supposed to be doing.

The moment Brandon set me free, I ran straight home, immediately called him and broke up.

“Kaycee?” Dave snaps his fingers in my face. I startle to attention.

Thanks so much, coaches, for stopping by. I hope you liked my story, and I look forward to working with you...if you pick me.