Title: Someone Somewhere Summertime
Entry Nickname: Punk Rock Waitress Rules
Word count: 88K
Genre: Adult – Women’s Fiction
Query:
In 1984, punk is rampant, Warhol rules, and 23-year-old Pittsburgh art student Jessica is sick of missing the excitement. In SOMEONE SOMEWHERE SUMMERTIME, Jessica sets her heart on a grad program in England she can’t afford, to bask in new wave sub-culture and hopefully emerge as a multi-media artist. Yet hometown boyfriend Drew decides they need to see other people if he’s not enough to keep her stateside. She’s single for the first time since age 17.
Hellbent on raising London tuition, Jessica and her avant-garde roommates set out to waitress in New Hope, PA, a tourist town full of river-view eateries, galleries, and alternative clubs. The girls rent a leaky basement apartment, braving waitressing chaos, slam dancers, drag shows, and co-workers of all sexual persuasions in search of the unbridled life she’s been pining for. Then Jess meets Whit, a volatile new wave guitarist who crawls through her window and makes her head spin like a record.
Lingering ex Drew shocks Jess by announcing plans to move to California, and Whit accidentally sends Jess careening off the road in his Camaro during a jealous tiff, draining her tuition savings with an ER bill. Jess is left to decide whether her attachment to both guys is a reckless personification of her cracked-glass mosaic art projects, and whether either will hinder her dream to launch an art career by studying overseas.
SOMEONE SOMEWHERE SUMMERTIME is irreverent post-punk, coming-of-age women’s fiction with romantic, humorous, and LGBTQ elements, 88,000 words. SWEETBITTER meets a John Hughes movie.
First 250 Words:
I’m not a good enough liar to get a job on the river side of New Hope, where the real waitresses work.
A restaurateur in a lavender silk shirt interrogates me, tapping a finger against his lips.
“Jessica Addentro,” he reads off my application. This is the seventh place I’ve visited today, and I have an hour before I have to meet the girls for a ride back to Trina’s house. My feet throb like a drum kick. But I have a security deposit to pay for, so I need a job.
I sit at Capresi’s Continental Restaurant, sheltered between the canal and a creek that zig-zags as if it’s lost its way. Trina calls this town Pennsylvania’s answer to San Francisco, where the lifestyle choices are as assorted as the menu selections. It’s an artsy tourist trap sprung between multiple bodies of water, including the Delaware River.
The restaurateur pronounces my name with an Italian flourish. “Ad-
den-tro. Do you know what it means?”
“Inside.”
“More like, versed in.” He winds his free hand in a circle. “As in, full of insights. Sound like you?”
“Depends on the subject matter,” I say. “But okay.” Sun-catchers glint behind the restaurateur amid a series of ceiling lanterns, revolving like some disjointed Calder mobile. Bookshelves and plants scream for a feather duster.
The man’s eyes flick down the page. “You live here in town?”
“Me and my roommates are moving into a place on Main Street this week.” Then life will begin.
VERSUS
Title: GREEN CARNATIONS
Entry Nickname: Unnaturally Dyed Boutonniere
Word count: 93K
Genre: Adult Historical LGBTQ
Query:
Under its glittery surface, Belle Epoch Paris is a brutal place where an illustrious name or prodigious bank account are almost the only means of advancement. British expat Fin Tighe has neither due to his illegitimate birth. His evenings spent in the clandestine gay community are legal through a loophole in the Napoleonic Code, but they leave him vulnerable. So the engineer proposes to find investors for his employer Gustave Eiffel's pet project: a 300-meter tower that will dominate the city's skyline. If Fin raises enough money, the commission will earn him a fortune, and hopefully, some protection.
Capricious stranger Gilbert Duhais appears to be a boon from the gods. Gilbert is wealthy, connected, and--somehow privy to the tragedy Fin instigated in his native Yorkshire. Gilbert introduces Fin to every
nouveau riche speculator in the city and soothes Fin’s suspicions with heart-thumping charm. Each provocative interaction heightens Fin's risk of exposure. But also brings Fin closer to his dream of financial security.
When Fin's dear friend is murdered, piecemeal clues indicate that Gilbert may have hijacked Fin's life for revenge over a man from Gilbert’s past, a scoundrel that Fin had good reason to want dead. Fin must untangle the disparate threads of his past--and his current romantic gamble--before they become his noose.
GREEN CARNATIONS is a 92,000-word LGBTQ adult historical fiction that will appeal to fans of Mackenzi Lee's
Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue and Cat Sebastian's M/M historical romances.
First 250:
Paris, 1886
I lifted my glass to hide my unshakable smirk in another drop of wine. The terrace wasn’t empty, but I had my choice of seats facing the direction of the river, towards the Champs du Mars. Not that I saw it over the mansard roofs of my neighborhood’s apartments, but I knew where it was. I wasn’t the most creative man, my talents were concrete; numbers and measurements. Dependable things, unable to be changed on a whim. But when I lifted my gaze toward the gibbous moon, I could almost make out the iron lacework tower that would change my life.
If it were built.
And it had to be because Monsieur Eiffel would make it worth my effort.
The expanse of butcher paper serving as a tablecloth begged for some scribbles and I pulled a pencil from the pocket under my green-tinted boutonniere. With a flourish, I wrote out the sum I could've done in my head when I was six, let alone one-and-thirty, but I needed to see the answer in writing.
Twenty percent.
Good Christ. I giggled, and I never giggled. Giggling was for small children and overenthusiastic young girls. Yet, there I sat, in a crowded restaurant, and something I vaguely recognized as joy burbled out.
"Fin?"
My head whipped up at the unfamiliar male voice. I could count on one hand the people who called me Fin rather than Finley or Tighe, and none of them would hover around a perfectly bourgeois establishment like this tonight—or any night.
