Do you all watch The Voice? Well I’m participating in an event called “The Writer’s Voice”. Check out the skinny on Brenda Drake’s blog. In following the instructions, I need to post my query blurb and first 250 words on my blog. Yikes!! It’s going to be out there – for the whole world to see. *Taking several deep breaths*
Okay – here goes… Wish me luck! (I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please click on the comment link below.)
Seventeen-year-old senior, Kyra Siefert races toward two goals – a full track scholarship to college and defending her state cross-country title. However, things change when Kyra begins to see terrifying visions. Visions of events she can’t control. Visions that wrench her into an alternate reality at the most inopportune moments. Now, hiding her psychic curse and avoiding the label “Koo Koo Kyra” becomes priority number-one. Until she falls for classmate Aidan.
Eighteen year-old Aidan MacGregor might be immortal, but he’s not invincible. Grieving and guilt-ridden over the death of his brother two years ago, Aidan uses his expressive drawings as an escape. Until he falls for Kyra. Bound by a strict code of honor, he can’t tell her he descends from a Highland Clan of Celtic immortals, guardians of ancient Masonic artifacts. He can’t tell her about the British faction of immortals who are trying to steal the artifacts, murdered his brother and are now threatening him. Nor can he tell her she’s become the pawn in a deadly game of immortal revenge.
In this Romeo and Juliet meets Highlander, Aidan is forced to choose between loyalty to his family or protecting the girl who has claimed his heart. But haunted by visions of Aidan’s death, keeping her secret may ultimately cost Kyra everything – including the boy she loves. Can she decipher her visions before they become a reality?
FIRST 250 WORDS:
I always failed at ordinary.
Ordinary wouldn’t have weird, freaky, come-true dreams or a scar that ached when something god-awful was about to happen. Ordinary wouldn’t have guilt hanging over my head like an anvil. And ordinary would’ve snuggled under the warmth of my down comforter, especially on a rain-soaked Sunday. Instead, I dashed down the hardwood stairs, runner-ready with iPod in hand, prepared to shave at least ten seconds off last week’s time.
Mom sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her forehead. Reddish-blonde curls pinging in all directions. Without looking away from the Asheville Citizen Times, she handed me my cell phone. “Sweetheart, do us both a favor. Humor your father with a response.”
Dad’s text read: Love the hills and they’ll love you back. Before I’d finished reading, the phone chirped again: Be one with the mud.
“Boredom does not become him.” As I twisted my hair into a ponytail, the two-inch scar on my thumb prickled – my most unwelcomed psychic warning system.
Mom tapped the headline of the Sports section: WMSU Football: Coach Siefert Under Fire after 23-13 Loss.
Leaning over her shoulder, I skimmed the article implying Dad’s contract wouldn’t be renewed. True or not, I’d tread lightly around Dad’s mood. I tapped out a quick reply: Got it Dad. Have a safe flight. Love your mud-loving, puddle-jumping machine.
As I placed my phone on the table, a sharp pain shot from my thumb to my wrist. I hid my grimace because Mom didn’t need another reason to worry.