Title: TWICE BETRAYED
Category: MG
Genre: Historical Mystery
Word count: 63,000
Pitch:
With the spark of independence crackling in Colonial
Philadelphia, three girls dress as boys and head to the river at night to put a
perilous plan into action, but only two return and one of them, Perdy Rogers,
is accused of treason. When the constable builds a case against the 13-year-old
upholsters’s apprentice with circumstantial evidence, she must unravel the
traitorous web woven around her that protects the real spy. With a grandmother
so distraught she’s helpless and her best friend called to testify against her,
assistance comes from the most unlikely sources—her 4-year-old sister, a
Scottish cabin boy she barely knows and a general destined to lead the new
country.
Q1: In
your MC's voice, what costumed character do you most relate to and why?
I
relate to Batgirl because during the day we both lead quiet, ordinary lives—
Batgirl
as a librarian and I’m an upholsterer’s apprentice. But by night she
dons her mask and Batgirl costume and I dress in boys clothes to help friends,
solve mysteries and protect the innocent.
Q2: As
an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (unique/marketable)?
The tasty treat – No proof exists that Betsy Ross made the
first American flag. Twice
Betrayed suggests her
apprentice, my MC, made the flag as a quilt top for her sister and both boys
and girls will be interested in crafting 5-pointed stars and decoding secret
spy letters in the story.
First 250:
A
shout rings out in the crowded street. “Help! My child! Help!
I
glance up, drop the ascot I’m hemming and rush out the shop door, the doorbells
overhead tinkling wildly.
A
toddler, dressed in a pale-colored coat and bonnet waddles across
the slippery cobblestones. The pouring rain makes it difficult to see her and
a wagon bears down on the spot where she stops.
Her
mother, on the far side of Arch Street, desperately clutches a baby to her
breast, screaming for someone to save her child from certain harm.
Heedless
of the rain, I quickly judge the distance the wagon must cover and dash out to
the child, swooping her up in my arms. As I twirl away, the wagon passes so
close my skirt ruffles in its breeze.
The
child wails, not from the danger she was in, but from suddenly finding herself
in a stranger’s arms. I cradle her head against my shoulder and rock her like I
used to do with Abby when she was upset.
Her
mother darts through the traffic to reach her. “Thank you. Thank you,” she
cries, her tears mixing with raindrops trickling down her cheeks.
Her
baby stares wide-eyed at her big sister, also crying in my arms.
“She
just let go of my hand,” sobs the mother, “and when I turned around she was
lost in the crowd.”
Shielding
my eyes from the rain with my hand, I gaze at the traffic, heavier than usual.
“Where is everyone going?”
Snickers bar!
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