Dear Miss Snark,
After the suspicious death of an old classmate, Michelle Hendrickson and Brianne Roberts rediscover an old friendship in their rural hometown. But, before the casket has even been buried, Michelle’s husband is murdered, Brianne's fiancé is kidnapped, and the two women find themselves in a desperate race for the truth. (the truth about what?)
The emergence of an old flame and an unexpected pregnancy complicate matters as Michelle and Brianne try to unravel a deadly mystery. (what mystery?) When clues lead them to a major international crime, they realize that they are in extreme peril, and that they don't know whom they can trust with their lives.
"Murderer Among the Mourners", a 103,000-word commercial fiction, combines emotional human drama with fast-paced suspense. The book is a collaboration between myself and Minnie Mouse. Both of us have worked as staff writers for The Jefferson Star newspaper. At your request, I would be happy to send the complete manuscript of "Murderer Among the Mourners" for your consideration. I look forward to your opinion.
well, my opinion is that you need to focus that query letter with a few more specifics.
His leather gloves made a soft, creaking noise as he clenched his fists. It and the low murmur of the car’s engine were the only sounds to pierce the night. The winter’s cold was barely held off by the car’s heater, which he periodically turned off and on. He couldn’t get too warm and risk falling asleep, but when his teeth started chattering, he cranked it up a few notches. While unhappy about his present task, he knew his loyalty would be rewarded. The phone on the passenger seat next to him vibrated.
“Yeah?” he demanded gruffly, careful to keep his voice down.
“Are you done yet?”
“What’s the problem?”
“She hasn’t been home.”
“Well, hurry up.”
There was nothing to say, so he hung up, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes. He had to wait for the woman to show up. Obviously, the show couldn’t go on without her. Since there was nothing to do but wait, he spread out the photos on the seat next to him and again studied his assignment.
She was a young woman, unmarried but seriously dating a man a few years older. Her job wasn’t exciting; she was barely above an entry-level receptionist. She spent some of her spare time volunteering for different non-profit programs; her way of giving something back. She lived in a small two-bedroom rental house on the verge of a rough neighborhood, rough, for a city with barely 50,000 people lying amidst a sea of farmland and religious zealots.
She had plenty of friends, but only a handful she saw regularly. From his first inspection of her life, he could detect no discernible routine. He had come to observe that she truly lived moment to moment in a swirl of chaos and what she must have thought was fun. But, he kept watching her and waiting. Then he found it. Her social life ebbed and flowed with the holidays, paydays, and possibly her monthly cycle or at least days when she felt too fat.
He managed to pick out activities she did on a regular basis. Tonight she was at a community education class learning how to tango. It was one of her many attempts at connecting with other young women while “improving herself,” as if learning to cook Thai and belly dancing were some unknown, hidden secrets to success.
He never considered what lay before him as anything but a job. Even as he got to know the most intimate details of her life, he never accepted her as a person. She was a task to cross off his list. He was still pretty new to the profession, and could still push it out of his mind as just another day at the office. It was hard to discern what gave him the mercenary quality necessary for his chosen line of work. Perhaps it was his military background, owning his own business in a cutthroat market, or even his upbringing as a child. Whatever it was, he was precise, detached, and efficient.
He closed his eyes and was considering a short nap when he heard another car approaching. He looked down the street, straining his eyes to see if it was her. She had been due home for a couple of hours. He hadn’t been too worried because she sometimes went out with friends after one of her classes. As the car lights approached, he watched carefully.
oh yawn yawn yawn.
We're not only waiting for the action to start, you're telling us about things while we do.
This is your idea of fast paced suspense? Blow something up, then we'll talk.