Monday, October 28, 2013

Trick or Treat K9- SNAP

Title: Snap
Category: YA 
Genre: Romance
Word Count: 66,000

Pitch: Seventeen-year-old Kate Reddy has sacrificed school, family, and a social life to be a figure skating champion. But when hot hockey player Brice tears up the ice, Kate's blade is caught in a rut, and an ACL injury ruins her Olympic dreams. Her estranged physician father suggests an experimental treatment to heal her knee by next season, but she must learn to trust him again, forgive Brice, and realize there is more to her identity than skating.

Question 1: In your MC's voice, what costumed character do you relate most to and why? I spend most of my life dressed up in figure skating costumes, but if I could be a costumed character it would be Hermione Granger. Not only is the girl smart, but she's tough--got to respect that.

Question 2: As an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (aka unique/marketable)? Every year in the United States almost 200,000 teenage girls tears their ACLs. SNAP isn't just a love story about a figure skater and a hockey player, but it's about never giving up on your dreams even when there seems to be no hope.

First 250 Words: 
My best friend Jen has always been my biggest fan. Seriously. Despite her supreme aversion to the cold, she’s attended every performance she could get to without a personal jet. She bundles up in ridiculous puffy jackets and thick scarves that make her look like a marshmallow on steroids and even puts hand-warmers in her mittens. And while she’s nice and toasty on the bleachers, I’m on the ice in scanty outfits that have more crystal bling than lycra and no gloves.
No matter how the performance goes, Jen always gives me a standing ovation. I love knowing she’s always there cheering for my triumphs and encouraging me to get up after I fall. But now that my competitive career is taking me to places like Prague and Beijing, Jen hasn’t been able to tag along. And because of my crazy schedule it’s been over a month since I’ve seen her. Phone calls have been impossible, so it’s just been a short text here or there.
I’m picking her up after practice and we’re going to hang out and lust after hot guys in action movies and gorge ourselves on sinful, yummy baked goods from her parent’s gluten free bakery. She’s going to show me the latest addition to her purple wardrobe and I’m going to tell her all the new rink gossip. 
But first I’ve got to make it through practice. 
When I step on the ice, a thin ground layer of fog gathers near the boards. Glycol and Zamboni fumes fill my nostrils.

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