Dear Ms. Marini,
Considering your interest in YA fiction, I hope my YA
mystery with paranormal elements will appeal to you.
Most teens would do anything to have a celebrity parent.
Diya would do anything to give hers up.
Adopted from an Indian slum as an infant by her movie star
mother, she's grown up, amidst whippings and alcoholic meltdowns, into a
sixteen-year-old with prematurely thick skin and a deep hatred for her abusive
mom. Seventeen-year-old Matthew grew up in a different type of family--the
Seer's disciples. He guards a powerful crystal with the ability to control
minds, a crystal entrusted to Matt's grandfather by his Indian Seer.
When Diya crashes her car en route to her aunt's house,
Matthew hauls her out of the wreck and recognizes Diya for who she is--the
Seer's granddaughter. He needs her help to find the missing mind control
crystal and trap a murderer.
Someone's using the crystal to force people to kill
themselves and masking the murders as suicides. And Matt knows Diya is the only
person who can reverse the crystal's power. If he can convince her of
her true identity.
Diya, though, is not too keen to believe anyone, however hot
he is. Plus, she has her own list of murder suspects. And, Matt, with his
unusual abilities, is way up at the top.
But when her aunt is nearly killed, the threat hits home.
Now the teens have to pool their abilities to try and outsmart the killer,
before he figures out who they are and destroys them first.
MIRE is complete at 70,000 words. Thank you for your time
Most kids would do anything to have a movie star parent, but
as far as Diya was concerned, having a celebrity parent was way over-rated. If
she had the choice between Miranda and being stranded on a deserted island
without Wi-Fi, she knew what she'd pick.
That thought echoed in her mind, as she found herself in yet
another staring stand-off with her mother across the length of the humongous
dining table. Miranda’s hard face rivaled the cold wooden surface of the table.
Diya took a deep breath and counted to ten, waiting for the
familiar explosion. And then it came.
“You’re not going anywhere, you brat. You owe me.” Miranda's
skin stretched tight over high cheekbones, courtesy of the most popular plastic
surgeon in LA. Any more stretching, and it would rip right down the middle. “I
want you at the benefit.”
“No.” There was no way she was staying here another second.
She'd planned to leave right after school, but Miranda had caught her in the
hallway and sprung the event on her.
A line of white crept around Miranda's compressed lips, a
sure sign of an impending tantrum.
Diya's mouth went dry, but she forced herself to meet the
woman's glare with a steady gaze. Years of verbal sparring had taught her one
thing. Miranda could spot a chink in your armor from a mile away.