[QCrit] NO CLAUSE FOR LOVE, LGBT ADULT SPECULATIVE ROMANCE, 90000 words

Hi, everyone! I've posted on here before on a different account, and have always received invaluable feedback. To everyone who's helped me in the past, THANK YOU.

After some reflection, I've decided this would do well pitched as a speculative romance as opposed to what I was previously going with, but I think there is some flexibility sub-genre wise (magical realist rom-com/contemporary romance with spec twist, etc.).

Query:

Dear [agent name],

Hope you're well!

I am seeking representation for my LGBT adult speculative romance, NO CLAUSE FOR LOVE, complete at 90,000 words. This manuscript will appeal to fans of Melanie Wiesner's handling of traumatic circumstances vis-á-vis magicky intervention in THE SECOND CHANCE YEAR, the enduring chemistry of Ashley Poston's THE SEVEN YEAR SLIP, and the complicated family dynamics Nisha Sharma contends with in DATING DR. DIL. I'm querying you because [personalization].

Between vying for a promotion at work, pushing his mom to get her own divorce, and navigating a complicated relationship with his sister, all divorce attorney Matthew Kismet wants is to enjoy his soap operas and some good ol' nicotine in his decrepit, Queens, NYC apartment.

The last thing he needs is his trusty vape pen getting enchanted by a hipster "yogi" his mom and best friend hired. The resulting curse? Bringing Matthew (annoyingly) closer to the man of his supposed dreams.

But the curse apparently backfires when his mom and bff botch the ritual, leading to two men fitting the bill: Rishi Choi, the starry-eyed doctor moonlighting as a part-time bartender, and Abraham Rubinstein, the stoic marriage counselor volunteering as PTA co-president at the school Matt's niece attends.

When Matthew uncovers his mother and bff's mystical shenanigans, he's ready to have a (understandable) crash-out. Yet with his sister's recent and devastating health complications following an unplanned pregnancy (post-one night stand with her loser ex-husband...), he knows he has to keep it together for her and his young niece, even if it means playing into the curse's fully-realized trap: clashing with his sister's obgyn, who turns out to be Rishi, and filling in for her as the other PTA co-president serving alongside—suprise, surprise—Abraham.

But maybe Matthew's best bet in breaking this enchantment is enlisting Rishi and Abraham's help, because there's no way he's talking to his mom or ex-bff yet (and he does keep having RELENTLESS meet-cutes with the dudes anyway). There's just one, teensy-tiny issue: the two men aren't entirely convinced being stuck with Matthew is a curse. And slowly but surely, Matthew's afraid he might be starting to feel the same way, but he won't repeat his mother and sister's mistakes.

Love is never worth the cost.

NO CLAUSE FOR LOVE has a HEA, isn't a why choose, and (aside from the brief prologue) is single-POV told in the first person.  

[name] is a formerly-agented, but unpublished, Gen-Z writer (this is his new manuscript). His previous agent was [name]. Their split was amicable. He enjoys the Diwali lights and unironically watching daily soap operas. He was born and raised in the U.S., has a [bachelor's and master's degree].

***I do not consent to the usage of AI tools on my query materials, including, but not exclusive to, my query letter, synopsis, and sample pages. Thank you!***

Sincerely,

[my name]

First 300:

***

In the pursuit of love, the movies say anything goes. For the special spark insisting it'll persist, even in the quiet corridors of day-to-day life. Never to pass us by, even in the moments we will one day forget—a true confidant, a constant ally. Love offers quite the promise, one which we willingly imprint on our happily-ever-after-addicted hearts.

In the out-of-reach recesses of our mind,

the changing tides of time,

love says it shall stay.

That he is worth the obstacles,

she the longing,

them the temporary breakups.

But maybe, just maybe, there's some limits to *everything goes.* Love is fickle, after all. And consent does matter (which really shouldn't be up for debate...).   

"Aunty Koyal, should we really be doing this? You know how Matt can b–"

"Judy!" the older woman whispers under her breath. "Beta[1]*...*now really isn't the time to discuss this, not in front of–"

In her neatly-ironed scrubs, Aunty Koyal paints on an equally put-together smile as she regards the millennial man sitting cross-legged across from them:

unkempt beard reminiscent of a late-summer Carolina tempest and its sprawling aftermath,

manbun reminding you he's actually from Williamsburg, Brooklyn,

and monochrome-colored OM necklace with his business number sharpied on.

All while wearing an...attempt at a serene expression. (Can looking constipated appear at one with the universe?)

"Not in front of this dignified yogi."

She turns back to Judy, her voice returning to a low hush. "We've already spoken about this before. This is the best option we have. And it's all thanks to you, my sweet, **brilliant** dear. Don't you remember?"

Aunty Koyal's definitely hype, and praise from a Caribbean aunty is nothing to scoff at. Nevertheless, Judy still huffs out a sigh, causing her thick, moisturized curls to slightly ruffle from the discontent.

[1] child...

Thank you again!!!