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:
QUERY:
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.
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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.
