Title: GAME CHANGER
Genre: Upper YA Contemporary
Word Count: 84,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
Adam is used to ball-sweat-hot summers in his small town, but slipping on snow could tweak his knee and put a quick end to his college football future...and his escape to a better life).
Dear Fabulous Agent,
With a girlfriend damn near close to perfect, an imminent college escape out of NowhereVille, USA, and a throwing arm clocked at 42 mph, everyone wants to sack quarterback Adam Emerson. But he never expected his dad to do the blindsiding, let alone do the most damage.
Three weeks before graduation, Adam’s widower dad dies, leaving him to bury his college dreams and NFL future with him. In their place, he’s left with the family garage to run and guardianship of a little brother who’s hellbent on self-destruction.
In no time, Adam’s brother’s fighting and drinking jeopardize his custody. And the auto shop takes such a dive that Adam’s forced to sell his dad’s beloved ’57 Ranchero just to make payroll. His coach and friends suspect he needs help, but he’s been trained to be a leader, and no amount of their pushing changes his determination to hide his growing failure. The family business, his home, his brother—everything that once seemed stable, everything he couldn’t wait to leave—are on the line. It’s up to Adam to decide whether to admit defeat or to adapt his strategy. It’s also up to him to learn the real life secret of the game he’s a master at: it’s not just how a player handles a game changer…it’s who he has on his team.
First 250 words:
The official end of another summer spent in the armpit town of Milton, where spontaneous combustion felt like a real possibility. Especially for my brother Ethan and me, working in our Dad’s shop through the whole thing, while Lang spent the season up to his ass in lemonade and air conditioning. He tutored Mandarin Chinese and Russian to kids two towns over and had no clue what a summer in coveralls and exhaust fumes felt like. That kind of ball-sweat-hot made so much as a toe dipped in the river water almost better than an orgasm. Of course, if Jenn and her lime green bikini slid into that water, “almost” would have dropped straight over the edge. A guy could hope.
Unfortunately, she was too busy threatening to slip Lang’s number to some preteens across the way if he didn’t put his cigarette out, for that to happen. Lang leaned against our cooler with an almanac of Los Angeles, ignoring her, and I watched them both through the smoke cloud. Ethan came out of the water and plopped his head on Jenn’s lap like a family dog.