Title: HAUTE MESS
Genre: YA romantic-comedy
Word Count: 55,000
Rules were meant to be broken. At least that's what sixteen-year old Lucy tries to tell herself when she's chosen as a finalist in The American Fashion Contest, a contest you have to be at least seventeen to enter. The lie seems like a minor detail until she discovers that Vanessa, her arch enemy, is named her contest partner and she knows. Vanessa knows Lucy isn't old enough to compete and that the lie she told could ruin her life. To make matters worse, Lucy can't seem to stay away from Rob – Vanessa’s uber-hottie twin brother.
With Vanessa threatening to expose Lucy’s lie, Lucy is forced to endure Vanessa’s torments and watch her dreams of becoming a fashion design superstar unravel. But as Vanessa's antics become more wicked, Lucy's clothing designs become more inspired.
Will Lucy win the contest or the hottie? Lucy's trusty magic eight-ball app on her phone says, “Uncertain.” There’s only one thing that is certain: Lucy's a hot mess.
I’m currently seeking representation for HAUTE MESS, a 55,000 word Young-Adult romantic-comedy with series potential. Fans of Jen Calonita, Ally Carter, and Elizabeth Eulberg would love HAUTE MESS, a light-hearted parody poking fun at contemporary teen clichés and pop culture, including literary trends.
I hold a Masters of Science degree in Reading Education and am a SCBWI member.
I was rummaging in my bag for a gloss fix when I ran right into my arch nemesis and fell on my butt. I looked up and found Vanessa glaring down at me with her pink lips pressed into a smirk. My loose papers gently zigzagged down to the floor like feathers beaten from a pillow and my face was instantly ablaze.
“Ex-cuse me!” Vanessa snipped, as if I did something wrong – like live. She and her entourage stepped around me as I crawled across the cold tile to collect my latest sketches for the fall fashion season.
I watched her catwalk away from me in four inch heels, tight, skinny jeans, and a real Prada bag slung over her shoulder, not like the imitation I had a couple summers ago. Then I noticed the red soles of her shoes. Christian Louboutin heels? For real?
“Seriously, someday I will haul off and punch her in her perfect little nose,” I announced.
“It wouldn't be worth the trouble,” Kate replied as she helped collect my drawings.
“Christian Louboutin heels. Ugh!” I muttered to myself as I stood. The shoes made me despise her even more, if that was possible.
“Ow!” Before I knew what happened I was on my back – again – only this time I was eye to eye with Rob, his nose only an inch from mine. A mixture of mint and musky cologne filled my nose as heat tickled my cheeks and ears. The florescent light behind his head gave him an ethereal glow and I swear I heard a chorus of angels singing faintly in the background.