First 100 #25

TITLE: Before I Leave You
GENRE: YA Contemporary

It’s always so damn cold.

Bone-chilling, actually, for so many reasons. The thermostat Dad keeps on zero degrees, my "lack of meat on my bones” as his nosy paralegals would say. But this is the kind of cold where I can see my breath when I exhale, like I’m outside in January and not in my foggy bathroom, getting ready for the first day of school. It's a cold that makes every hair stand on end. That sends shivers through every part of me.

Only one reason for that kind of cold.

Desirée.

First 100 #24

TITLE: TOXIC CROWNS
GENRE: YA Fantasy

I killed the first handmaid. I left the second one alive because Princess Marna doesn’t know how to take off her own gown. I’d help poor Marna untie her corset myself—I’ve done it too many times before—but I’m the one with the knife in her hand.

“Watch the hem, Princess,” I say with a flick of my bloody knife, ushering her behind the changing partition. Princess Marna startles, red curls slipping from her-half finished updo, and gathers her pretty, pearly skirts so they won’t drag in the blood puddle oozing from the slit in the handmaid’s throat.

First 100 #23

TITLE: Strange Gods
GENRE: YA Fantasy

Of all the places he could have made his move, in a silent cafeteria surrounded by counselors was probably the least romantic. Mostly because all Spooky could do was freeze and hope no one noticed. Hornets and butterflies swarmed in her stomach as Luke took her palm in his. She didn’t know if she liked his hand on hers. She only knew she didn’t want to get caught with it there.

But then his touch was gone, and in its place, a piece of paper. Spooky’s eyes shifted to the closest counselor, but no heads turned. No one had noticed the exchange.

First 100 #22

TITLE: The Charley Chronicles
GENRE: YA Fantasy

Dead Aunt Gert’s house was full of eyes. True felt them watching as she followed Mom up the massive stone steps of the looming structure. The silent sentinels stared down through the misty night air and dared her to enter.

The porch light flickered, and Mom’s arms and legs stuttered like an old silent movie. True shivered and concentrated on lugging her heavy suitcase up the never-ending stairs. She just wanted to go back to their tiny apartment.

‘Welcome home, True.’

She drew in a quick breath. That ghostly whisper was just in her head, wasn’t it?

First 100 #21

TITLE: The Bea Team
GENRE: YA Contemporary

I like the way a piece of material takes shape into whatever I want—a tank top, dress, pants, or a skirt, the possibilities only limited by my imagination. And there’s the type of material from cheap cotton to expensive silk, although most of my creations tend to be on the cheaper side, like Lulu’s dress.

“You know you could make more money selling your pieces instead of someone else’s,” Lulu says, unwrapping a chocolate Lollipop. “I’d give you a million bucks for this little number.”

I smile. Lulu’s concerned more with how the dress makes her look.

First 100 #20

TITLE: Princes Charming
GENRE: Adult Fantasy

The blind girl trembled in the corner as Gertrude raged over her.

 “Tricked!”  she snorted, though her snorts were akin to what one would hear from an enraged stallion.  “Outsmarted by my own contract.”  She continued to pace; the blind girl counting her steps both to keep track of where the witch was and to calm her mind, keep the panic at bay.

    The steps stopped.  The blind girl cowered further down, though she could almost feel the air parting as the witch’s hand descended toward her head.

    “One must deal with what is in front of one,”  she said

First 100 #19

TITLE: Isabel Slate Makes the News
GENRE: MG Contemporary Fiction

I slide the last copy of my newspaper into the Smite’s birdhouse mailbox and click the little door shut. When I look up, C.K. Spicer, the cool new kid at Francis Mott School, is riding his bike up the sidewalk. Even sitting on his bike, he’s tall and skinny like a stretched out rubber band.

C.K. slams on his brakes, missing my left foot by half an inch. I want to walk away, but I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he annoys me.

"Hey, Isabel, I’ve never heard of an animal listening to a baseball game.”

First 100 #18

TITLE: Standing Too Close
GENRE: YA Contemporary

The bell rings as I’m emptying my locker. After so many years, I’m conditioned, and I jump, ready to slam the door closed and run to class.  Second period is bio and the lab’s upstairs in the school’s new wing.  I have to hurry if I’m not going to be late.

But I don’t hurry.  Because I don’t need to worry about being late to bio or to French or English or any of my other classes anymore.  As of ten minutes ago, I’m no longer a student of Milton High School.

First 100 #17

TITLE: Hyperbole
GENRE: NA Science Fiction

Without a fresh clue, someone else is going to die.

My fourth cup of coffee is still warm in my mug. I’ve had one for every hour we are into Nox Diem, not that they’re doing me much good. I’m desperate to stay alert. Twenty long hours of suffocating darkness remain this cycle. The work around me has ceased. The other detectives left hours ago, winking out one at a time like extinguished candle flames, trading a frustrating lack of progress for the oblivion of sleep.

My desk is a mess of reports, binders, and photographs, which I comb through. Again.

First 100 #16

TITLE: Elite Justice
GENRE: Adult Mystery

According to my ex-husband, I had mastered what was commonly referred to as Resting Bitch Face. This came in handy when dealing with unruly children - my own, suspects at work - I’m a Homicide Detective, and overly talkative new gym members - I loathe people when I’m on the treadmill.
With RBF firmly in place and brightly colored earbuds wedged into my ears to discourage conversation, newbies with the misfortune to hop on a machine next to me and attempt such were quickly shut down when faced with my glare up close. No shame, I’d been known to make gang members weep.

First 100 #15

TITLE: ORPHANED SKIES
GENRE: YA Science Fiction

Worlds around her would explode if she touched the spinning orb and stole a life back from the Reaper. But since that life belonged to her best friend, nothing else mattered.

Crew accelerated, chasing Reagan’s egg-shaped vessel in an oblong orbit over Earth’s northern hemisphere, the duo mere minutes away from completing their ninety-ninth mission. Concentration gripped her shoulder blades and burned down through her fingertips. Energy flowed through her mind more than concrete words or commands.

To finish the mission, she just needed to find and destroy the traitors badge. And for Crew, admittedly a little trigger-happy, destroying was the best part.

First 100 #14

TITLE: The Legacy Project
GENRE: MG Historical Fiction

     We sat in the front pew, Mr. Bailey's casket so close, I could almost hear him breathing. If he were alive, that is.

     "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away," the pastor said from the pulpit.

     Mama sighed and rubbed her round belly. The baby was due any day now, and she had grown tired of all the comments. On our way into church, a lady had said, "Oh my, you look like you're about to pop!"

     "Any day now!" Mama laughed politely. But when we were out of earshot she whispered, "And she looks like she ate too many pancakes this morning."

First 100 #13

TITLE: Reviving Abby
GENRE: YA Contemporary Fantasy

Don’t look up.

Whatever you do, zero in on the text.

Keep reading.

Ignore the curiosity urging you to lift your gaze. 

Resist it, that tingling sensation creeping up your shoulders, stiffing your neck, goading you to pull your eyes away from the writing.

Control it.

Keep reading. 

Focus on the words.

“WHAT LIES BEHIND YOU AND
WHAT LIES IN FRONT OF YOU,
PALES IN COMPARISON TO WHAT LIES INSIDE OF YOU”.

I read the lines for the hundredth time, trying to stick to my inner voice’s recommendation. At least, that’s who I think that is. It sounds like me (...)

First 100 #12

TITLE: Valeria
GENRE: MG Space Opera

              The oval door slid open and Valdor Noxum, an intimidatingly tall man with a permanent scowl on his face, entered the hospital room. Dressed in a red-trimmed black suit and vest, he strode along the velvet-carpeted floor past the stone fireplace set in the wall. He reached the base of the staircase shortly after that, two gentlemen wearing suits standing on either side. They knelt onto one knee and gazed upon the floor.

              “My Liege…” one murmured.

               “Your Highness…” murmured the other.

First 100 #11

TITLE: The Woodsman's Rose
GENRE: Adult Historical Romance

Breakfast was never a formal event in the Donovan home, but since four of the siblings had moved on, it sometimes seemed quite staid. Today, though, as Daniel padded down the stairs from his room, the conversation emanating from the kitchen was more animated than usual. He pushed through the swinging doors and poured his first cup of coffee while his youngest brother expounded on the merits of his pony.

“Dad, she’s too small. She’s a kid’s horse!”

His father made no response. His mother worked at the stove, her bright red hair curling wildly in the heat and humidity.

First 100 #10

TITLE: Truth in the Treetops
GENRE: YA Contemporary with paranormal elements

Sweltering heat bakes my skin as I shuffle along the narrow path, the hot breeze offering no relief. I uncap my water bottle and chug the last drop of tepid liquid. Eight miles at cross-country practice and now this, plodding home in a sauna. Ugh
!
Through the bushes and tall, leafy oaks, I follow the steep descent of the hill, my throat parched, sweat trickling down my back. What I wouldn’t give for a bucket of ice water to douse myself with.

“Hey, what’s the rush, Gabs?” Asha, my bff asks, shuffling behind me. “Slow down.”

“Sorry, it’s just so freakin hot."

First 100 #9

TITLE: IMPROVISANDO
GENRE: MG Magical Realism

It’s all in the B. How you attack that first note tells your audience everything about what’s to come. Quasi improvisando, Dvorák says. You need to put your life into it. You need to show that you can be wild, fanciful, dramatic, free.

Basically, everything I’m not.

I’ve done a masterful job of faking it for half my life—ever since I took up the cello at age six. Scales, etudes, Bach preludes, Boccherini concerto, Brahms sonatas… I’ve never looked back. My technical skill astounds even the most talented of musicians. Because of it, I can manufacture the rest.

First 100 #8

TITLE: Lily Silverclaw
GENRE: MG Fantasy

In the dark of the moon, while young and old lay sleeping sound, Lily Silverclaw ventured out of the burrow and into the night.

She popped her head above the burrow mound and glanced left and right across the prairie. Nobody there. She eyed the guard pacing along the top of the tall, stone Wall that surrounded the prairie dog town.

Time to move. Lily scrambled out and scurried from bush to bush. She whirled around to make sure no one had noticed her leaving—because that would be a disaster—and rammed into another prairie dog.

First 100 #7

TITLE: River City Demons
GENRE: Adult Fantasy

Three guys walked into a bakery. One of them wanted a beignet.

The counter-girl froze, her grin going from humor to horror in an instant. She was a student working part-time, and she knew trouble when she saw it. She knew it as schoolyard fights, bullies shaking down nerds, or her dad drinking too much and realizing he was this total douchebag loser, a moment of personal self-awareness that meant someone was going to get hit. It was the same vibe here in her bakery, the three walking in, the other three at the counter eyeing the newcomers.

First 100 #6

TITLE: Lifelines
GENRE: MG Magical Realism

The barbecue was about to start, the guests were on their way, and one of the birthday girls was missing. The rest of the family hadn’t noticed, caught up in party prep, but Mel had been alert for signs of trouble. She wove through the bouquet of balloons at the front door to check the living room, the dining room, and all four bedrooms, before finding her twin curled up in the oversized recliner in the home office. Rae hugged her knees to her chest, staring at a window that had its blinds drawn.