Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Word Count: 64,000
My Main Character's Most Fearsome Obstacle:
Cross and Brielle's most fearsome obstacle is family. Abandoned at her slayer camp as a child, Cross has never known a real family until visiting Brielle's world. Brielle loves her family with all of herself and she'd do anything to protect them, even keeping the effects of her fantasy a secret. Discovering her dad faked his death so he could complete his evil plan of species annihilation broke not only Brielle, but Cross' heart too. But if they work together to survive his betrayal, they can build a new family joining both worlds forever.
Cross tries to hide strange visions of her other life as Brielle: nerdy teen girl living in a colorful world of dull happiness. Being a klutz won't cost Cross her job, but another vision will. Her shrink says it's her way of coping with slaying the humanoid beings known as moths and butterflies, but Cross has experienced enough to see through the lie.
After waking up in each other's' worlds, Brielle and Cross realize they're one in the same. Unsure what else to do, they live one another’s lives. Soon they’re tangled in a mystery involving the mythical bridge between their parallel universes and a handsome butterfly Cross was charged to kill.
The more they discover, the more it becomes clear: someone wants them both dead—and the butterfly is the only one who knows why. Now they must find out who’s trying to destroy them before the bridge comes crashing down.
CROSSING BRIELLE is a YA urban fantasy told in dual POV. It's complete at 64,000 words.
First 250 Words:
“Ack!” Cross bolted back to her feet, head darting from side to side. Good. No gawkers this time so no need to mention it in the report, she thought as she stared daggers at the faulty wheel that'd brought her down.
She checked her sword then tried again. This time she propelled herself up to her post on top of the rundown apartments. Sweat dripped from her brow, but Cross refused to acknowledge it. Spring wasn’t always so hot, but right then she felt like she was kneeling in a desert instead of a tar roof in Nashville.
Any day now. She surveyed the landscape. People zigzagged through the rubble-filled streets, ignorant of the killer in their midst. Daniel was somewhere among them, working his way toward her through the decay. She was sure of it. He wouldn't pass up the chance to say a twisted hello to his victim.
To the untrained eye he looked like a normal human—six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure muscle. But Cross knew the monster lurking beneath his skin. All of her jobs were dangerous, but Daniel was the most vicious type of moth―a cinnabar.
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