Dear Ms. Gref:
I’ve read you’re seeking fantasy novels with mythological twists. I believe Twist of Fate may interest you.
Twenty-two-year-old Pandia is in so much trouble she’s shaking in her Jimmy Choo’s. After the goddess-born NYC socialite travels through time and meets Julius Caesar, she convinces him to abandon politics for gardening. Pandia’s father, Zeus, summons her to twenty-first century Olympus and chews her out for messing with a notorious human’s destiny. To teach her a lesson, he strips her power and sentences her to a stint of mortality in Italy.
Pandia refuses to let her punishment get her down. She’ll do her time, leave mortals’ destinies untouched, and be home before the next sale at Saks Fifth Avenue. But instead of modern-day Italy, Zeus sends her to ancient Pompeii. Pandia’s mistaken for a prostitute and hauled before a local official. When she can’t pay her tax, and refuses to give the official a free sample in trade, she’s sent to work in Pompeii’s Gladiator School. There she’s assigned to Caladus, a gladiator whose steamy kisses make her reconsider her vow to remain uninvolved.
To escape Pompeii, Pandia must prove she respects mortals’ pre-ordained fates. But she’s falling for Caladus, and her time’s running out: Mt. Vesuvius is rumbling.
TWIST OF FATE, complete at 81,000 words, is an adult historical fantasy, a mix of Clueless, Diana Gabaldon’s OUTLANDER, and Gladiator, but with a happier ending, because I always thought the gladiator was cheated. I’m an RN/Clinical Documentation Specialist, which means I decipher physician handwriting and twist it into medical codes. I spin tales for my husband and children in central Maine.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
TWIST OF FATE
Standing outside the Great Hall, I yanked down my red crop top with trembling fingers and wondered what I’d done to piss my father off this time. Was it Marco? Or fish-lipped Julius? It couldn’t be about Christopher, because it wasn’t exactly my fault Chris turned those ships around and returned to Spain.
Four guards in military uniforms flanked the entrance, guns strapped to their hips. One opened the door and nodded for me to enter.
I swallowed the wad of fear lodged in my throat and swept into the Hall.
My father, Zeus, sat with my stepmother in gilded Ikea chairs at the end of the room, matching scowls on their tanned faces. Hera’s eyes met mine across the expanse. A smirk lifted her lips and she spoke as she nudged Dad’s arm, although the distance was too great to catch her words. Dad grimaced and loosened the collar of his Armani shirt.
Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows along the walls, spilling a profusion of rainbows across the marble tiles. As I walked through the aisle leading to the receiving area, the click-click-click of my heels echoed in the stillness surrounding me. Normally, gods dressed in designer clothing packed the alcoves between the pillars, gossiping as they waited to speak with my father.
The fact that it was just me, Dad, and Hera meant I starred in a command performance. My steps faltered. With considerable will, I resisted the urge to flee to my apartment in Manhattan.