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Welcome to the third round of the first ever Petit Fours and Hot Tamales Recipe for Success Write-Off Contest. We are open for up to 100 entries today from 6 a.m. EST until 9 p.m. EST. Please read the complete rules by clicking the Contest TAB at the top of the page under the banner. The contest started March 2nd, 2nd round was March 9th, and today is the last chance to enter! Again, please read all the rules on the link above.
THE TOP REASON YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE MADE THE FINALS SO FAR: Frankly, one of the biggest reasons might be that we had to disqualify you for having more than 100 words. One of our absolute favorites had 112. Please check your entry before you send, because we do after you enter.png "Smile"){kind=small}
WHAT CAN YOU WIN: Grand prize is a critique from agent Chelsea Gilmore with the Maria Carvainis Agency of the first 20 pages of your manuscript and a two page synopsis. Four runners-up will receive a PFHT cookbook.
HOW TO ENTER TODAY: In the comments box below this post, put your entry of the first paragraph or up to 100 words of your story. The first 100 entries posted AT or AFTER 6 a.m. Eastern Standard time will be accepted. No entries posted after 9 p.m. will be accepted EVEN if we do not reach a full 100 entries by the deadline. You are not required to post 100 words. You may post less. Instead of just saying the first paragraph, we give you the 100 word option because you may have started with dialogue
GENRES?: Entries may be in any genre except for inspirational or science fiction due to agent’s preferences.
WHO CAN ENTER: Entrants must be unagented at the time of submission and not have published a work of full-length fiction (over 40,000 words) within the last 24 calendar months.
TODAY’S WINNERS: From today’s entries, we will choose 5 semi-finalists whose names will be posted on Saturday, March 19th in the comments section below today’s entries. Semi-finalists will need to email us with contact information within 24 hours. All fifteen semi-finalists will be required to submit the first five pages of their manuscript by email (address will be provided to them) no later than Monday, March 21, 2011 at 5:00 p.m. EST.
TOP FIVE FINALISTS: Announcement of the top five finalists will be made on March 23rd.
And as a disclaimer, remember: By posting an entry, entrants agree to hold all members of PFHT, Chelsea Gilmore, and the Maria Carvainis Agency harmless for any comments or criticisms including those posted on the blog by guests or others. Winning is not a guarantee of representation.
If you have a question that is not answered by reading the rules, please feel free to post it in the comments section, BUT enter anyway. If there is a problem, we’ll remove your entry. We don’t want you to miss the entry window.
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? ENTER IN THE COMMENT BOX BELOW. (AFTER 6 a.m. EST!)
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by Carol Burnside
The entries we’ve recieved so far have been excellent. Thank you for participating.
There were two things in life Brody Kern didn’t trust. Friends who wanted to be business partners and redhead’s with sweet smiles. Right now his friend was in the wind and the pretty little redhead smiling at him was making him hostile.
Staring down into his half-empty beer bottle, he tried to ignore her. What the hell was a woman like her doing in a place like this anyhow? He, and every other red-blooded male in the joint, noticed her come in. All five-foot-four-inches of soft, decadent female wearing clothes completely inappropriate for this environment.
Robert MacLachlan licked the corner of his mouth, where a tiny droplet of blood lingered. A precious taste. He clamped white-knuckled fingers on the wheel of Sea Panther, his ninety-foot, black-hulled sloop, allowing self-hatred to course through his veins along with the woman’s blood.
“Cursed fool.” He pushed away from the wheel, away from the night view of the shore. Coming on deck hadn’t eased his torment. Not even the briny tang of the sea breeze soothed him.
Dawn neared. He retreated below to the sanctuary of his cabin.
Only on this sunrise, a lass remained sprawled across his bed.
And with our first entry, we’re off and running with the last round of semi-finals. PLEASE, count your words. Anything over 100 will be disqualified. It killed me to disqualify some great paragraphs these last two weeks.
Oh, and don’t panic if your comment doesn’t show up immediately. If you have never commented before, it has to be approved first. More than likely, we’ll get it quickly, but IF you don’t see it after a couple of hours, feel free to resubmit. I’ll delete duplicates.
Question for Debbie. I used Word word-count which counts hyphenated words as one word. Is that a problem?
Good luck to everyone. I can’t wait to read your entries.
Dawn: It shouldn’t be a problem. I use Word also. And, then because I’m paranoid, I hand count before I eliminate. Also, I don’t count if you put a title, a genre, a time, or a place as a header. I really do try to give everyone the biggest benefit of the doubt I can
Charms and Daggers
YA paranormal
‘D-A-N-G-E-R’
The wooden planchette on the Ouija board stopped as suddenly as it started. The two girls looked at each other in astonishment.
“That’s not funny,” Skye said. “Stop it.”
“It wasn’t me, I swear,” said Callie.
A crackling noise, distant at first, increased in volume. Callie scanned her room for the source. The red ‘on’ light blinked on her radio by the dresser. It was unplugged. Through the static emerged a chorus of chanting voices.
“What are they saying?” Skye whispered.
“I can’t tell. I’m scared.”
“Me, too.”
The planchette whirled between them. It looked . . . angry.
Good luck to all today’s contestants! You are off to a great start!
GOOD LUCK everyone!!!
Have a great day
Tamara
OVERBOARD
Women’s Fiction
The last time I saw my two-timing ex, he’d been clutching his nose. Blood streamed between his fingers.
It was a private moment.
So I echo the reporter’s words as a question. “You saw a picture of Greg?”
“Metal nose splint, fat lip, two black eyes. They say you punched the hell out of him and he fired you.”
“No.” I only took one wild swing at the renowned political strategist. “I resigned. I’m starting my own campaign consulting firm.”
I should have known the master of dirty tricks would set out to wreck my plans.
I was the second person in my family to be struck by lightning.
That storm came in the middle of what I thought was a regular July afternoon–hot and endless. A little grumble of thunder sent the lifeguards whistle-blowing and yelling for us to get out of the pool. I sassed back, just like my friends did, but really I couldn’t stand being outside if there was a chance of lightning.
I was tired of swimming anyway, and we had long since finished with the soggy Tigerbeat magazine I stole from my big sister that morning.
Paranormal Romance
“Um…sorry, I wasn’t trying to interfere with whatever…um…I need a favor from…no…I need to ask a favor of you. That is if you aren’t busy being naked…Oh God, I mean busy making other plans with another woman.”
Nadia could feel her face flaming. “Just let me stop talking.”
She took a deep breath before letting her eyes come back to Drake’s face. Now he was smiling. She watched as he sauntered closer and tucked the towel a bit more while he did so, his crooked smile on his face the whole time, the wretch.
Last night, she dreamed she killed Jackson McKenzie.
Wasn’t that a good idea. It wouldn’t be that hard. Hell, he was such an egotistical jackass. He deserved to die, preferably slow and painful.
She smiled. A house fire. He could die on the job in a house fire. Perfect. So sad. So tragic. Ideal death for a man who thought himself the perfect hero.
A breeze stirred the air, teasing closer the fragrance of rust and honey. The bitter, sweet aroma of blood surrounded me. I froze. As if I were savoring the first bite of a triple chocolate cake, I drew in another slow, deep breath and let my eyes fall shut. I struggled not to moan.
Don’t fight it, min älskling. The voice inside my head was velvet, compelling, and so wrong it made everything right. I feel your need. The voice amplified my need to sink the fangs that had lengthened into warm flesh. I moaned a strangled, pathetic sound.
“You want me to spy for you?” Jennifer Benedict shouted as she steered her Chevy Astro through a freeway interchange, heading toward downtown LA. She adjusted the Bluetooth in her ear. “You hired me to paint landscapes, not spy on people. You’re kidding, right?”
“Just be a friend and keep an eye on things while my husband and I are in Hawaii,” Brianna said in a reassuring tone.
Jennifer slowed to exit. Friends? They’d never really been friends in junior high. Back then Brianna went through people like cheap paper towels––use once and toss aside.
She had to escape. Get out. Flee. Running, from the back exit to a service elevator, she didn’t even think to be surprised when the door slid open as she reached it. She dove in, pounded her fist against the panel of buttons, gasped for air and finally, as the music faded above her, slumped against the quilt covered wall with a moan.
The sound, the vibration in her own throat penetrated her panic. She drew a deep breath, held it. The expected pain, was already starting and the evening bag she clutched held nothing to help her.
Single title contemporary:
“Shae? It’s Dave Hale.” Near panic underpinned the man’s voice. “You need to come back. Your dad’s been taken to Community Hospital.”
Shae Harriman’s throat went dry, her magazine slipped from her fingers to the floor of the airport waiting room. “The hospital? Why? Was he injured?”
“It’s his heart,” her father’s foreman told her. “He’d been complaining of pains in his arm all morning but wouldn’t do anything about it. When he keeled over, we called 9-1-1 immediately.”
Did I cause his heart attack?
“You want me to spy for you?” Jennifer Benedict shouted as she steered her Chevy Astro through a freeway interchange, heading toward downtown LA. She adjusted the Bluetooth in her ear. “You hired me to paint landscapes, not spy on people. You’re kidding, right?”
“Just be a friend and keep an eye on things while my husband and I are in Hawaii,” Brianna Patterson said in a reassuring tone.
Jennifer slowed to exit. Friends? They’d never really been friends in junior high. Back then Brianna went through people like cheap paper towels––use once and toss aside.
Historical Homicide
Cozy Mystery
“I swear some people just like to hear their own voice.” Aunt Jackie mumbled as I filled the coffee carafes for the third time. Coffee, Books, and More was the host site for Cambria’s Business Basics meeting.
Glancing up, I saw Josh Thomas turn beet red. But that was the only sign he’d heard my aunt’s comment. His tirade continued. As the owner of the recently opened Cambria Antiques, the man had issues with everything. The meeting agenda, the city promotions, and the lack of an animal control office. He’d even complained about the free coffee.
Tentatively titled, A Summer Storm
Mystery
I did not want to die naked.
It was a horrible thought, pathetic and humiliating. I imagined my soul hovering above my disgusting naked body as rescue workers and curious onlookers gathered around me. Their shaking hands would cover their mouths as they tried desperately to disguise the horror of my disgrace.
Mainstream prison story based upon fact:
Camelot appeared on the right, on Route 1, on the drive into Richmond. Its red brick wall stood twelve feet tall and spanned the length of a city block. Of its keep, only the top two rows of windows were visible from my father’s car. The keep’s walls, made of concrete and cinder block painted white, were remarkable only for the heavy, black mesh screens covering its windows. A chain-link fence topped with a giant razor wire slinky outlined the public sidewalk, protecting from trespass the magic garden nestled between the fence and wall.
In Pursuit of Love
Regency Romance
Hidden behind the fronds of a large potted palm, Melanie Wainscott observed the crush of bodies gliding gracefully across the polished dance floor of Lord and Lady Whitmore’s grand ballroom. The massive doors had been thrown open to accommodate the thirty-piece orchestra and the swell of guests. With a gentle breeze carrying in the fragrant perfume of roses and wisteria from the gardens, Melanie couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting.
No use sitting on the proverbial river bank. She had a man to catch, and with any luck, he’d be as easy to snag as a brook trout.
DANCES WITH COUGARS
Women’s Fiction
Death by doughnut.
Mariel envisioned the inevitable headline even as she rushed to Reed’s side where he lay on the floor, choking and gasping, the jelly doughnut clutched in his hand.
A doughnut had been part of Reed’s daily post-show ritual throughout the life of Daybreak. Now it might be the death of him.
Not today. No way Reed Barton was going to shuffle off to the big TV studio in the sky because of a damn doughnut. Not if Marielena Cruz could help it.
Not before he finally passed the baton to her, his loyal sidekick.
Looking for a job stinks. I watched as the recruiter slipped her reading glasses on and examined my resume. The nameplate on the wall indicated she was Gladys Linton, executive recruiter for World Temps, Incorporated. According to the numerous plaques covering her office walls, she was a thirty-year veteran of the job placement field.
“Ms. Wright, please tell me a little about yourself,” she said.
“I earned a Bachelor of Science degree in nursing from East Carolina University and worked as a registered nurse in Raleigh, North Carolina for several years,” I said.
Gladys put the resume down and stood.
Historical Romance
The Valkyrie’s Vengeance
Off the coast of England
901 AD
Thwack, thwack, thwack. Arrows embedded into the beached ship with every step she took, missing her ankles by mere inches.
Tyra Svensdottir dove for cover inside the grounded longship’s hull. Her heart stalled, and then nearly pounded its way outside of her chest. She placed a hand there as if she could stop the horrendous hammering or at least quiet it somewhat. Eyes wide, she spat the mouthful of salt water out and rose to her knees—making sure to stay hidden. Leaning against the wood planks of the hull, she summoned the courage not to cry.
She lifted her head like a lily opening to the sun, the dark hair piled upon her head the bloom, her naked body the slender stem. Into the sacred waters had plunged an apprehensive seventeen-year-old girl; from it emerged the May Maiden, purified for the ceremony of the Maiden’s Veil.
Trembling against the evening breeze, Clarinda stepped from the Queen’s Pool and into the woolen robe held out by the crone. She took a wineskin from the mother, knelt at the shallow edge and plunged it into the water, feeling the bladder slowly bulge against her hands as it filled.
Black & White
Wind whipping from behind, blew Detective Mackenzie Verzano’s long brown hair into her face. She pulled it away, tucked it under her coat and turned her collar up to block the gusts. Chilled to the bone, she knew the children, clad only in thin pajamas, were freezing, too.
“Come on, Sophie,” she begged. “Let me have Rena and Joel. They’re so cold.” She spoke quietly though her insides screamed.
Sophie had climbed over the railing and stood on the narrow walk along the outer part of the bridge. The children’s pleading cries tore at Mackenzie’s heart.
The competition is fierce today. Writers, keep ‘em coming!
Romantic Suspense
“Do it!” Alex Mitchell shifted his weight and kept his sight on the other prisoner’s wavering blade. Alex tensed his stomach and backed into the blind corner of the prison yard. The tower guards were changing shifts, and he had one minute before the perimeter guards returned.
The man moved, and Alex’s fist slammed into the attacker’s gut. Alex jacked up the other man’s arm until he opened his hand. The knife clanged against the stone wall and fell to the ground.
“Don’t mess with an Army Ranger,” Alex hissed in the man’s ear. “Or his copy of Jane Eyre.”
Black and White is: Romantic Suspense
Sorry Vonda!!! My bad. I linked to the contest page and not this one.
Totally my fault.
Phoenix
Commercial Fiction
Amanda Martin didn’t believe in casual Fridays. She didn’t believe in anything casual. Why waste time with casual dating when, despite a cold and unfulfilling relationship, she and Josh made the perfect power couple? Why bother with the empty calories of casual dining when the hottest restaurants in Chicago whisked her into a window-front table? Business casual was never an option when she could be summoned to meet with media or investors at a moment’s notice. She certainly didn’t appreciate the casual tone the banking industry had taken with the tellers all sporting chinos and matching golf shirts.
Thank you for hosting this and Debbie, thank you for letting me know about my blond moment.
Paranormal Romance
Lady Emmaline Deramore tried to calm her racing heart. She stood in the crowded ballroom at Belvoir Hall, three days before her much anticipated wedding to the love of her life—the dashing Adrian Segrave, Viscount Bournemouthe—feeling like a trapped fox. A powerful pang of unease, a strange sense of wariness, made her swallow hard. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose to attention and her pulse beat a wild tattoo.
HI HOT TAMALE LADIES!!!!
I saw your notes on my blog. We had a fun day on Barbara Vey’s blog didn’t we. Thanks for stopping by.
That’s okay, Tami…just make sure I place! LOL! J/K! ” ) vonda
Hi Mary, *waves madley*. Mary writes cool westerns. Be sure to check out her Sharpshooter in Petticoats! http://www.maryconnealy.com/
Best of luck to all of you in the PFHT writing challenge. Very generous of this group and Chelsea Gilmore to offer this opportunity.
Alternate history/paranormal romance
Tension fermented in the air like a sour mash whiskey. By chance, skill, stealth, and deceit I had kept my secret. But tonight I strode down the halls of Chicago University’s Eckhart Hall with a feeling that time had run out.
Every evening I reported for duty as the Manhattan Project’s head of nightshift security not knowing what I missed during those midday hours when I lay dead to the world.
Paranormal Romance
“Hey, Alice! When’s the last time you got laid?”
Alice Roarke cringed as heat spread across her cheeks. She began to pick up a few items on her desk. “And a happy Wednesday to you too, Tina.”
“If that’s all it takes to make it a happy morning, then Sunday was great as well.” Tina sat on the edge of Alice’s desk, placing her hand on top of some papers. “I’m serious. Do you remember when you had awesome, slamming-your-headboard-against-the-wall sex?”
“You think you can say it any louder? I’m sure the third graders down the hall didn’t hear you.”
Courting The Coach
Contemporary Series Romance
“You sent me roses.” A pause, then an unmistakable masculine sigh weighted by frustration. “Again.”
“You have something against flowers?”
The silence following her question had a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Candace had known Neal wouldn’t be thrilled with the flower delivery. Still she hadn’t expected him to come to her office and voice his disapproval.
“That’s not the point,” he said.
Moving the computer pointer and clicking the mouse button to save the spreadsheet she’d been working on, Candace was suddenly glad she’d resisted putting on glasses to relieve her strained eyes.
Title: The Heart’s Dilemma
Genre: erotic romance
I wake to find that I am lying on my side with my cheek against cold concrete and my hands bound behind me. I wiggle back and forth and attempt to roll myself up to sitting. I blink a few times and focus on the clean concrete floor until my head stops spinning.
I’m in the middle of a garage. Weak, yellow sunlight shines in the pristine windows that line the top of the walls. I see a gray and white blur in my periphery. I struggle to focus—ah, the blur is my cat enthusiastically sniffing in one corner.
Thank you for this opportunity.
They wanted it this much? Her hands clawed the wall as she stepped painfully closer to the door. Smoke snaked into her throat and bit into her eyes. She heard the fire snapping and a dog barking. No time, No time. Her legs shook and she had to lean into the wall. Just a little farther. She fell onto the ground, catching herself with the heels of her hands. The burnt carpet smelled awful but she breathed easier now. I’ll crawl out, if I have to. She inched forward. Who was whimpering? Not her, never her.
Title: Saber (First Draft Not Finished)
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic/Paranormal/Strong Christian slant
I closed my eyes and felt myself focus like when aiming my gun a far distance. Calm, focused, and cool are what get a steady hand, so I used just that to get a steady head.
For some of the speech, I kept my eyes closed to remember what all I wanted to say. The rest, I examined the men and women; their eyes and faces. I felt detached from myself and, most of all, I felt the presence of God all around me and in my heart.
Thank you for this opportunity.
THANKS FOR ALL THE GREAT ENTRIES. THE CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED TO FURTHER ENTRIES. GOOD LUCK TO ALL OUR CONTESTANTS.
Seven Days, comtemporary romance by Julee Johnson-Tate
The man who came up to me looked like some of the rockers who toured through Indy. But, what I needed was someone willing to listen. He must have recognized me from surveillance cameras and he introduced himself. William D’Arcion, huh? It would be a French name, the way my luck had been running. While his sensuous, deep voice and the fact that he mentioned his Marine rank interested me, I knew this needed to stay on a professional level. I introduced myself as Elizabeth rather than Lizzy, not mentioning my rank as an Indiana State Police officer.
Sorry I didn’t get back and read my emails before you closed. Thanks–J
Hi, I’m wondering when the five semi finalists will be announced today? I hate to sound anxious but it’s ten pm here and I haven’t heard anything yet. Or am I in the wrong place?
I’ve been wondering the same thing, Melissa…the instructions say the semi-finalists “will be posted on Saturday, March 19th in the comments section below today’s entries” which is….here…unless there’s another here here?
Here here!
That’s what I thought too Deb. Hopefully we’ll know soon enough.
I’ve been checking all day! Yes, I am a desperate woman.
On the East Coast, it’s officially Sunday and no semi-finalists.
The mystery continues.
Don’t blame you for wondering, ladies. So sorry for the delay! It was hard to choose between some of these – really hard. We even went to a tie-breaker in one case. But here are our winners:
SARA SIMAS
MELISSA DAWN HARTE
SHARON WRAY
RACHEL MARQUEZ
LYNN CALHOUN
Congratulations, ladies. Expect an email from Debbie Kaufman with the PFHT in your inbox no later than 8 a.m. EST.
If you didn’t win, please try not to let discouragement take away your motivation to write. All contests are subjective, judges are subjective, and frankly, the whole process is subjective. Personally, I’ve had a few rejections and contest losses come my way, but my first contract came in January! So chins up! You can still get there.
And, all the emails have been sent to our semi-finalists, so please check your inboxes or your spam filter if you don’t see it.