I’m thrilled to announce my name was picked via a lottery for The Writer’s Voice Blogfest!
Several blogs have posted how the event works, but Mother. Write. (Repeat.) has been a go-to for me for years for agent interviews, and that’s where I read about the contest, so here’s Krista’s link. (Thanks, Krista!)
Per the instructions, today I post my query and first 250 words. Here we go!
PASSAGES is a 108,000 word adult science fantasy romance set on a failing planet being revitalized by a population of electorgs—humans with electronic implants.
After an attack scrambles his memories, Quinn learns he’s the ousted electorg commander of the workforce repairing his planet. In his place, an alien look-alike is stripping the planet of a mineral the natives need to survive and deactivating electorgs along the way. To save the planet and his fellow ‘torgs, Quinn needs allies, but the only person he trusts is the soft-skinned, empathetic ‘torg woman who gave him shelter. He installs a bodyguard program in her system, telling himself she’ll be safe, and that he only wants an ally, not a lover.
Becoming the Commander’s guard 24/7 puts Eve’s life at risk—and not only from alien attack. As a community counselor, she became very involved with the natives and broke an electorg taboo: she fell in love and bore children. Her lover is deceased, but if Quinn’s superiors learn of her forbidden relationship with the natives, Eve could be deactivated. Still, her connection with the natives could hold the key to defeating the aliens, and if she doesn’t trust Quinn with the secret, her native-born children will die. With attraction tightening between her and Quinn, Eve must brave physical and emotional danger to save her children, her love, and the air they breathe.
PASSAGES won the NJRWA Put Your Heart In A Book Contest, and finaled in FF&P’s On the Far Side Contest and in KOD’s Unpublished Daphne du Maurier Contest. I have served on the board in my local RWA chapter, and participate in several special interest chapters and a critique group.
Following is my manuscript’s first 250 words. Thank you for taking time to consider my work.
The city of Cavvert
Another morning, another motel room, and my brother was still missing.
I slung my travel pack over my shoulder and shoved the lapels of my field jacket together against the chill mountain air. My cheeks stung beneath my beard, and my eyes watered, reminding me I’d best brace for both the cold and another search of another town. I strode the length of the old motel building to the street, where my grandmother waited, bundled in her tan jacket over travel clothes.
“Morning,” I called. “What backwater town are we off to today?”
Graen wasn’t listening. I followed her gaze past the quaint eateries and shops surrounding the snow-patched green. Across the town square, a line of people waited alongside flatbeds of shipping boxes at the Conducer station.
Four helmeted Blackguards emerged from the station’s door. A fifth waved the travelers aside while the guards in their black polymer armor marched to the nearest flatbed. Each hoisted a box and carried it back inside, their stun swords swinging from their weapon belts.
My gut twisted at the sight of so many electorg guards. “They’ve requisitioned this passenger station for cargo transport.” I shook my head. “Trust a ‘torg to put equipment before the needs of the natives.”
“Quinn, hush,” hissed Graen. “We’ve got to get past those people.”
I dropped my glare from the Blackguard barring the transporter station’s entrance. “Electronic humanoids aren’t people. Not anymore.”
Thanks for reading and following this exciting blogfest! It’s being tracked on twitter at #TheWVoice, and I’m @laurelwanrow
A nice winter scene from Passages came to mind this week as we finally got a few inches here in Virginia. Enjoy!
Snow had started falling on Zeffir when I vectored to the patch of woods I’d used previously, hoping to avoid detection. As we hurried between the skinny trees, tiny flakes pattered upon the dried leaves. A few inches of white lay in the field furrows, creating stripes across the land—like old-fashioned prison stripes. Thanks to my guard, we wouldn’t be wearing those or more modern lock-down garb. Eve had put aside her fears for Sabein and Cyrem and performed her function at Cavvert’s Conducer. And I’d done my best to help, deactivating the three guards she’d immobilized and barricading them in the station with a flatbed of boxes.
The main Six Sentence Sunday website is here, or catch other writers posting at #sixsunday. Thanks for reading!
Welcome to my blog and what’s become my regular posting of Six Sentence Sunday!
This week I wanted to keep in tune with the holiday season, but none of my manuscripts feature a winter holiday. I’ve settled for the winter morning one of the Zeffirites has come to collect the hero Quinn for a meeting with their leader—and he must skirt the protective Eve.
Clouds covered the sky, the wind beneath brisk. Snow swirled up from the ground and blew down the short street. No one mentioned coats—it must not be far.
“You know she won’t be kept waiting a moment longer and I’m sure observing the locals is part of his assignment as well.” Tristam crossed his arms, shifting his frown from Eve to me. “My grandmother makes an excellent coffeecake.”
“I’d love some,” I answered, placing my hand to the small of Eve’s back and nudging her into a walk.
Hope your holiday breakfasts are a bit smoother! Thanks for joining me and be sure to visit other “sixers” here, or find us posting at #sixsunday.