Six Sentence Sunday 1/29

For six sentence sunday this week, I wanted to share a few lines from my YA steampunk romance, HERITAGE. Moments from being married to the man of her dreams, sixteen-year-old Sylvia Long is carried off by Gabriel Villeroi, swept into a world of invention and the supernatural...

I glanced in the mirror a second time, praying the man was simply a fabrication of the mind brought on by my euphoria. My heart fell, along with my hopes. There he was, nonchalantly leaning against the bedpost like he had every right to be there.

Incensed at the man’s lack of etiquette, I spun around to face him, nearly toppling sideways from the weight of my hair.

“Sir, I do not know what has possessed you to enter my bedchamber but it is of no consequence, I insist you leave at once.”

“Alas, Sylvie, I am neither able nor willing to heed your request.”

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Pitch Blogfest

Brenda Drake is hosting a fun pitch contest and blogfest! See more details at:  http://brenleedrake.blogspot.com/
The official contest isn't until Tuesday, so I have the next two days to perfect my pitch. Let me know what you think, good or bad!

Here is my entry:

Title: BITERS
Genre: YA Dystopian Romance
Word Count: 80,000

Pitch: In a world of necrotic cannibals and fanatic survivors, a self-reliant teen must find a way to work with the boy who betrayed her to stop a madman from destroying the last remnants of humanity.

I haven’t slept soundly since the world ended.

Stuck somewhere between waking and dreaming, I hear a muffled thud.

I reach for my pistol. A few years ago, a seventeen-year-old girl might have kept a phone under her pillow, anxious for a call from a boy or a text from her best friend. Now it’s a firearm. Lucky me.

Odds are the noise is my new roommate – for the umpteenth time. I hate that damn cat. I never take chances, though, not anymore. That lesson is tattooed on my soul, inked in the blood of those I’ve failed to protect.

Gun in tow, I slide off the bed, careful not to make a sound.

The good news? The noise wasn’t the cat. It’s fast asleep in the far corner. I won’t have to kill it for waking me – this time. The bad news? The noise wasn’t the cat. That means trouble.