Title: Summer Camp Diaries
Word Count: 90 000
Genre: YA Romance
In Summer Camp Diaries, sixteen-year-old Kat Ferguson has been waiting years to attend Camp White Deer’s legendary Leaders-in-Training Program. She sees it as the ultimate opportunity to find her Lifelong Soulmate – a hot studly wonder who will love her despite her personal challenges: “big boobs, crazy hair, and a foot that always ends up in my mouth.” Kat’s parents see it as a chance for her to “learn important life lessons,” and challenge her to set some goals. Kat does…but her goals aren't exactly what her parents had in mind! Kat’s schemes for finding the right guy result in frequent and hilarious mishaps, as she tackles her first-ever canoe trip, a mysterious diary from the past, some wild and crazy campers, and a creepy almost-cousin. Then Kat meets a feisty foster kid and her goals begin to shift. When she finally bares her soul to her new friend Ben (who happens to be her gal-pal Chrissy’s boyfriend), she learns the most important life lesson of all.
First 250 Words
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl working at a summer camp must be in search of a boyfriend.
– Jane Austen (sort of)
Girls who have very large boobs should not try to swim to the bottom of a lake for any reason. We have to work ten times as hard as the walking toothpick girls with boy boobs, and when that whole anti-gravity thing takes over, we might as well be treading water upside-down.
So why was I doing it? Good question. The fact that it was only about sixty-five degrees in the water should have given me a legitimate reason for taking my “girls” (or should I say, my “buoys?”) and heading for dry land. Still, the fifteen or so yummy-looking guys diving around me were a pretty good reason for staying put. They were busy demonstrating their manliness as they flipped their sleek-abbed torsos in the water like over-animated seals. (Assuming seals can be over-animated. They are, after all, seals.)
Unfortunately, I couldn't use the hot sealboys as my excuse…or not directly, anyway. You see, the sad truth of the matter is, I was submerged in the freezing waters of Deer Lake in June because I didn’t want to show everyone my very chilly nipples standing at attention. Yes, that’s right. Having perky nipples is rarely a good thing when you’re sixteen and more than a little stacked. Parading them in front of a dozen newly introduced, hot male acquaintances is even more horrifying.
Entry Nickname: Broken Jar
Title: In Pieces
Word count: 52,000
Genre: YA contemporary
Seventeen-year-old Clare has no idea what she wants do after high school, but she knows who she wants to be with. At least until her boyfriend Jesse hits her.
Part of Clare never wants to speak to Jesse again. Part of her wants to never leave her bed again. But part of her still sees Jesse as the guy who blew off house parties to take her for walks and held her hand through her ER visit when she broke her tailbone, not this new guy who keeps secrets and fails tests and skips classes. There has to be a reason he snapped.
And she’s going to find out what it is. Even if Jesse doesn’t want her to.
First 250 words:
It's 6:17 pm on January 21st when Jesse Talcott hits me. I know, because I just glanced at my watch. The one he'd gotten me for Christmas barely a month before. It’s Michael Kors, silver, with crystals instead of numbers and little interior dials that I don't even know what are for yet.
Honestly, when I opened it--the night before Christmas on the snowy porch of his parents' house because I thought Dad would freak if a boy came to bring me a gift on Christmas morning--it was kind of a what-the-hell moment. I mean, who wears a watch? That's what cell phones are for.
It’s the one time in the five years I'd known him that Jesse wasn't concerned about practicality.
So for him, I wear the watch. Our friends ooh and aah over it. Jesse’s asked about three hundred times if it's ok. If it's too much, too heavy, too silver. If I'd rather have something else. Maybe my shaking hands as I opened it or the stuttered thank you after made it obvious that I didn't know what to think of it. Tell the truth, I still don't know what to think.
Especially now, with my face stinging in a way that I would've never in a million years seen coming. I can't look at him. I can't even think of him. All I can think of is the watch, the hands frozen. In my mind, maybe it will perpetually be 6:17.