Thursday, May 2, 2013

The Writer's Voice

Welcome to my entry for The Writer's Voice, a multi-blog, multi-agent contest hosted Cupid of Cupid's Literary Connection, Brenda Drake of Brenda Drake Writes, Monica B. W. of Love YA and Krista Van Dolzer of Mother. Write. (Repeat.). Good luck to all the participants!

YA Paranormal Romance

AJ Ashford curses too much, is failing French, and holds top spot on her principal’s shitlist. She’d much rather play guitar than conjugate verbs, but when said conjugation is interrupted by a creature only she can see, the resultant spaz-attack sends her freak status at school rocketing, until she silences the star quarterback with her right hook.

Xander Sorokin, prince and future commander of the demon-hunting Sentinels, is wanted for the murder of his foster father by the very people he was destined to lead. Hunted by his closest friends, he searches for answers to questions no one is asking. Until he meets AJ and her black eye, and his need to defend the weak awakens for the first time since his escape.

Only AJ doesn’t do demure damsel; she prefers to swing the verbal ax.

With AJ’s rejection still stinging, Xander’s past slips into the seat across from him, armed and dangerous. He evades capture only to be ambushed by demons, an attack which spills over to an innocent. While Xander fights to pull an unconscious AJ from the resulting car wreck, an angel sends her back to the land of the living with a mission to help the gorgeous and chauvinistic Xander. But how can she help when she doesn’t know the problem? Or when she can’t be in the same room as him without wanting to slug him…or kiss him? One thing’s for certain, when the two of them get together, Heaven and Hell better both watch out.

REMEMBERED, the first book of a young adult paranormal romance trilogy for fans of Cassandra Clare and Lauren Kate, is complete at 97,000 words.

Bitter Victories

Just outside Paris, France
July 15, 1789

Gavril rested against the wall, still wearing the clothing from yesterday’s successful raid, his gaze drifting over the courtyard and gallows below. In the early morning light, a slight haze coated the ground, obscuring most of the cottages in the distance. The acrid stench of soot and ash wafted from billows of smoke rising on the eastern horizon.

“Why does it vex you so?”

King Ivan’s smooth voice echoed against the stone, accentuating both the size and emptiness of the hall. Word had come late yesterday about the Bastille in Paris, but the news had been dwarfed by the celebration here.

Gavril frowned at the small crowd already gathered around the gallows. “How could it not?”

Restrained anger made his French clumsy. Gavril struggled to control the disdain, knowing he shouldn’t direct it towards his king. He wasn’t angry with him, not angry with anyone in particular…except maybe himself for being this weak.

The king approached with a measured pace, his age just beginning to show in the slightly stiffened movements. Even decades removed from the field, he was still as deadly as the Sentinel army his council oversaw, the same warriors Gavril fought beside. The king’s wizened face held the emotional control of the politician he had become in order to lead, but his eyes betrayed his confusion. He genuinely didn’t understand Gavril.

That made two of them.

“She’s just a girl,” Gavril said before he could think.

“Is that why you failed to finish the task?”