Title: THE HANDBOOK FOR FAIRY GODMOTHERS
Genre: YA contemporary with light fantasy elements
Word Count: 60,000
Is Your Main Character hot or cold?
Charity is called the Ice Princess by her classmates, because she is so cold to anyone trying to get close to her. But underneath the icy façade, Charity is passionate about what she does and fiercely protective of those these cares for. She is hot, masquerading as cold!
Charity wants happy endings. She’s a seventeen-year-old fairy godmother who transforms losers into superstars and creates Happily Ever Afters—like a boss. She has the ability to glimpse each person’s true potential for one moment and uses her visions to grant wishes people didn’t even know they had. Of course, the in-crowd can’t know that some people are getting an assist, or they’d reject the Cindis on principle. So Charity is strictly black ops.
When she bippity-boppity-boos Noah’s prom date away, the Trekkie tracks her down and threatens to out all her past clients. The only way to protect her Cinderellas is to help him get his girl back, so she agrees to it. But they have problems. She didn’t get a glimpse of Noah, so she’s flying blind. He’s the most antagonistic Cinderella ever. And she’s serving up his wish with a side of revenge. But somewhere in the midst of improvising, backstabbing, and one-upping their way to Noah’s Happily Ever After, Charity starts to wish she were the girl Noah wanted.
Meanwhile, she discovers that a bunch of her past Cinderellas’ happy endings have gone sideways. From orchestrating that mono-tainted first kiss to turning a future NASA scientist into a vapid Barbie doll, it’s possible she has royally effed up the whole fairy godmother gig. With everyone’s happy endings at stake, Charity must figure out the real meaning of her glimpses and how to use them, because the next wish she grants will either break Noah’s heart or her own.
First 250 words:
Chapter 1: So You Want to be a Fairy Godmother
The castle doors opened, and Cinderella held her breath as she placed one delicate, glass-slippered foot across the threshold. The Prince, scanning the crowd with disinterest, locked eyes with the beautiful stranger, his heart skipping a beat. Meanwhile, the Fairy Godmother, disguised as a parlor maid, was two-handed stress eating French pastries in the corner.
But that last part never gets included because nobody cares. It wasn’t her story. So nobody gives a magical mouse crap about the Fairy Godmother’s problems.
Except for me.
I know exactly what that chick was going through, because right now, watching Carmen Castillo set for the two-minute Poms try-out routine, I am in agony. I sit in the bleachers with my Poms’ squadmates, composing my features into a perfect mask of indifference, while mentally juggling glass slippers at the stroke of midnight.
Next to me, Scarlett whispers, “Who do you think is going to make it this year?”
Electro house pumps out of the gym’s sound system, saving me from having to answer. The new hopefuls do a quick series of moves: head snap, ball change, flex kick, punch. Carmen hesitates on the kick. I bite the inside of my cheek because the tension has to go somewhere. The triple fuetté turn is coming up. With every neuron in my brain, I will Carmen to stick it.
That’s not the magic, by the way. We’ve been clandestinely rehearsing this routine for weeks.