Title: Healing Gravel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Word Count: 67,000
Pitch: To pursue her musical passion, Bren turns to her estranged, dead mother’s family to borrow money. She doesn’t anticipate their acceptance or the sexy farm boy who makes her question her feelings. Uncovering her mother’s painful past may be the only way to accept the love she craves.
Question 1: In your MC's voice, what costume character do you relate most to and why?
I’ve been told I remind people of Marilyn Monroe, with my vintage style, blonde hair, and red lipstick. They don’t know the truth to their words, because just like Norma Jean, I’m trying to become someone else.
Question 2: As an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (aka marketable/unique)?
Bren shields herself with indifference, but the reader’s heart will break with hers as they learn the truth of her mother’s past, and the reality of its consequences. It’s an edgy, emotional ride full of loss, forgiveness, and smoldering kisses.
First 200 Words:
Nine hours outside of Denver and Bren Tate had learned a few unimportant facts. Farmland was boring, sleeping in your car was uncomfortable, and every irrelevant town in Kansas had a Casey’s General Store.
She fiddled with her hair, trying to reorganize the blonde waves that framed her face in the rear view mirror. They started out as perfect round pin curls but gave up the fight after a night smashed against her car window. She lifted her heart shaped glasses to evaluate the dramatic wing of her eyeliner and took a final breath as she opened the door. A dense air sucked her pants to her thighs and weighed down her shoulders. The dusty odor of horses drifted by, as a truck and trailer pulled out of the parking lot.
A bell sounded as she entered the convenience store, air conditioning cooled the sweat on her skin and sent goose bumps down her bare arms. She took in the now familiar view. Small towns had a thing for wood paneling, junk food, and an obscene variety of cigarettes.
Behind the counter a woman teetered on a stool pushing Marlboro cartons onto the highest shelf. “Hello, hello,” she chimed.