5 Prince Publishing’s April Releases

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, General, African American, Mystery & Detective,
Romance
Release Date: April 2, 2015
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-102-9 ISBN 10:1631121022
PRINT ISNB 13: 978-1-63112-103-6
ISBN 10:1631121030
Fatal Obsession

 

After a hot weekend with a mysterious woman, Damien Chan did not expect to get a frightened phone call from her, begging him to save–what? who? The call is cut before she says it. The next thing he knows, he’s become obsessed with finding her and saving her from the man that had led to their first meeting. But he never expected to find her in his cousin Dale Carson’s house… as his wife!
She finds out her nightmares are actually memories of her past life… the life of a murderer. Could she truly be the deranged Ellsa Jabari who’d almost added her own sister Ellie to the list of people she’s killed?
Amnesia can be a real bitch!
 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Available from 5 Prince
Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends &
Mythology, Fantasy, Historical
Release Date: April 2, 2015
Digital ISBN-13; 978-1-63112-106-7 ISBN 10:1631121065
Print ISBN- 13; 978-1-63112-107-4 ISBN:10 :1631121073
 
The Doom of Undal
The Dragon Court has ruled Tiamut uncontested for millennia,
bringing knowledge and prosperity to all.
Yet all is not as it seems—far to the West in the land of
Undal, mightiest of the nations, the Royal Queen and her children are struck
with a mysterious illness and perish. Was the Dragon Court responsible?
Or had the Queen had been experimenting with dark magic?
Her grieving son, trained in the dark arts by the goddess
Eris herself, swears vengeance.  When he defies the Dragon Court and
they rescind their blessing on his royal house, he must turn to his mother’s
experiments and ancient blood rituals to achieve his aims.  In his quest
for truth he will become the greatest threat Tiamut has ever known.
With details pulled directly from Plato (yes, THAT Plato), The Emerald Tablets of Thoth, Sumerian and Egyptian mythology, The Doom of Undal tells the story of the Fall of Atlantis.
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New Books from 5 Prince Publishing!!!

Available from 5 Prince  Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, General, Literary
Release Date: February 5, 2015
Digital ISBN: 13:978-1-63112-080-0 ISBN 10: 1631120808
Print ISBN: 13: 978-1-63112-081-7 ISBN 10: 1-63112-081-6
Permanent Spring Showers
Professor Rebecca  Stanley-Wilson is having a very bad season. Her husband has just admitted to  having an affair. And it was with one of her students. Blame it on a desire for  revenge (or way too much alcohol), she then has had one of her own. Unfortunately  for her, her affair was with one of the great upcoming painters of his  generation. The ramifications of that one torrid evening will not only be felt across her life but over the entire art world. 
 Sexy, funny, and very  surprising, Permanent Spring Showers is the tale of one very  memorable springtime  and how it impacts a group of unique artists and dreamers. From the writer who  is creating a new literary movement (through outright manipulation), to the hopeful  Olympian with the failing marriage, to the romantic wondering what he did wrong  to drive his love from him, each tale walks the line between reality and  fantasy. And waiting at the end of the line is a very important painting… and  possibly the revolver used in the Lincoln Assassination. 
About Scott D. Southard
Scott D. Southard is the author of A Jane Austen  Daydream, Maximilian Standforth and the Case of the Dangerous Dare, My Problem  With Doors, Megan, 3 Days in Rome and Me Stuff. His eclectic writing has also  found its way into radio, as Scott was the creator of the radio comedy series The Dante Experience. The production was honored with the Golden Headset Award for Best MultiCast Audio and the Silver Ogle Award for Best Fantasy Audio  Production. Scott received his Master’s in writing from the University of
Southern California. Scott can be found on the internet via his writing blog
“The Musings & Artful Blunders of Scott D. Southard” where he writes
on topics ranging from writing, art, books, TV, writing, parenting, life, movies,
and writing. He even shares original fiction on the site. His blog can be found
at http://sdsouthard.com. Scott is also the fiction book reviewer for  WKAR’s daily radio show Current State.
How to Contact Scott D Southard
Website:  sdsouthard.com
Twitter:  @sdsouthard
 
 
Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Romance Contemporary
Release Date:  February 5, 2015
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-097-8
ISBN 10: 1631120972
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-098-5 ISBN 10: 1631120980
Reasons to Stay
Just when she has  learned to trust again Stevie’s life is once more thrust into uncertainty. Left  with only the memories of her deeply passionate relationship she tries to piece  together what is left of her heart. Shocking news leaves  her reeling once again as she tries to help her first love Jason’s brother,  Dillon, to rebuild his life.
 Will Stevie’s heart  ever be mended? And if so who will be the man worthy of her trust? And will she  ever get her happy ever after?
About Lisa J Hobman
Lisa is happily married to her soul-mate and they have a daughter and two crazy dogs. She especially enjoys being creative and now writes almost full time. In 2012 Lisa and her family relocated from England to their beloved Scotland; a place of happy holidays and memories for them. Her new
location now features in all of her books. Writing has always been something Lisa has enjoyed, although in the past it has centered on poetry and song lyrics. Some of which appear in her stories. Since she started writing in 2012 she has loved every minute of becoming a published author.
How to Reach Lisa J Hobman
Twitter: @LivingScottishD
Available from 5 Prince  Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary
Release Date: February 5, 2015
Digital ISBN-10:1631121006 ISBN-13:978-1-63112-100-5
Print ISBN-10:1631121014 ISBN-13:978-1-63112-101-2
The Escape Clause
Longing to experience the life her  mother once led—the life of a carefree Parisian heiress—Avery Keller opts to give up everything she’s ever known—family, home, and a love affair with her dearest friend Pete. But when the dream abroad becomes a nightmare, Avery must count on her family and the man she loves to help her escape. But once home can she pick up where she left or will fate have stepped in and given Pete someone new to love?
About Bernadette  Marie
Bernadette Marie has been an avid writer since the early age of 13, when she’d fill notebook after notebook with stories that she’d share with her friends. Her journey into novel writing started the summer before eighth grade when her father gave her an old
typewriter. At all times of the day and night you would find her on the back porch penning her first work, which she would continue to write for the next 22 years.
In 2007—after marriage, filling her chronic entrepreneurial needs, and having five children—Bernadette began to write seriously with the goal of being published. That year she wrote 12 books. In 2009 she was contracted for her first trilogy and the published author was born. In 2011 she (being the entrepreneur that she is) opened her own
publishing house, 5 Prince Publishing, and has released her own contemporary titles. She also quickly began the process of taking on other authors in other genres.
In 2012 Bernadette Marie began to find herself on the bestsellers lists of iTunes, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble to name a few. Her office wall is lined with colorful PostIt notes with the titles of books she will be releasing in the very near future, with hope
that they too will grace the bestsellers lists. Bernadette spends most of her free time driving her kids to their many events—usually hockey. She is also an accomplished martial artist with a second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. An avid reader, she enjoys contemporary romances with humor and happily ever afters.
BM’s Links:
@writesromance on Twitter

5 Prince Publishing February Sale!

Available from 5 Prince  Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Romance/Contemporary
Digital ISBN 13: 978-0-9848529-5-6 ISBN 10: 0-9848529-5-6
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-028-2 ISBN 10: 163112028X
Candy Kisses
Tabitha Knight is one  of the most sought after chocolatiers in Cherry Creek, Colorado. The owner of  the exclusive, upscale candy store Tabitha Chocolates, Tabitha cleans up on  profits during Valentine’s week; however, she hates Valentine’s Day and everything  it stands for.
 The only daughter of a  mother who enjoys marrying men, often, Tabitha doesn’t believe in love at first  sight, falling head over heels in love, or marriages planned on a whim. But  when Preston Banks, the son of her best client, happens into her life she’s
finds out that not only will too much chocolate make your head spin, but so  will the right man saying the right things at the right time.

Available from 5 Prince  Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction/Romance/Contemporary
Release Date: January 30, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-95-0   ISBN 10: 1-939217-95-4
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-96-7     ISBN 10: 1-939217-96-2
 

The Girl Before Eve

Unrequited love is the biggest heartache…

Lily and Adam have been best friends since the dawn of time. Well, the dawn of their time.  Okay…since primary school actually.  Everyone accepted them as best friends.  Until one day, aged 18, Lily made a fateful discovery.  She was head over heels in love. With Adam. 

Her unrequited feelings are hard to deal with initially but become even harder when Lily inadvertently introduces him to the love of his life.  It all started as a bit of a joke thanks to the other woman’s name. Eve.  Many years later and Adam is once again single and heartbroken and Lily is there to help him pick up the pieces.  Her methods are sometimes a little unorthodox and lead to ridiculous consequences.  Can Lily help Adam move on and find happiness again?  And can either of the friends recover from losing the love of their lives? Sometimes the one thing you want is way out of reach.

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction/Romance/Historical
Release Date: January 9, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-93-6   ISBN 10: 1-939217-93-8
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-94-3     ISBN 10: 1-939217-94-6
 A single day shattered her life and  set in motion, events that would change the Sullivan family for generations.
 Marnie Joe Sullivan had the perfect life as the daughter of a  wealthy Virginia businessman, but perfection wouldn’t last. As the War Between  the States ends, she is struggling to keep her family together. After a botched  robbery, fleeing rebels leave her mother dead and Marnie at the mercy of a  killer. The year is 1867 and Virginia is still home to Confederate conspirators  and a killer that must be stopped. Loyalty and love run deep in the Sullivan  family and Marnie is no exception. As the eldest Sullivan, she feels obligated  to rescue her father from the hangman’s noose. But a jailbreak at midnight
lands her in the arms of Marshal Mason Kane.
Death is never fair. Mason Kane is proof of that. The horror  of war and the death of his brother made him a drunk. Consumed by guilt and  grief, he finds himself occupying Richmond saloons and starting fights. But a  forgotten promise to his brother forces him to put down the bottle and accept a  friend’s plea for help. Mason has no idea that the scrawny, mud covered boy he  just hit is Sullivan’s daughter and he has no idea just how tempting she is  until he tries to mend her wounds. Bound by honor and promise, Mason sets out  to find a killer. What he finds is the outlaw Marnie Sullivan. A woman he can’t  live without and secrets that lie in the way.

Cover Reveal For Serpent Priestess of the Annunaki

Series: dragon Court series

Genre: Fiction, Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology, Fantasy, Historical

Release Date: June 19, 2014

Digital ISBN-10: 1631120522 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-052-7

Print ISBN-10: 1631120530 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-053-4

 

Serpent Priestess of the Annunaki

The Annunaki on Nibiru lack precious metals, stones and minerals, which they desire, food on Nibiru is also running low. Their solution: establish a colony on a distant planet teeming with wildlife and vegetation. When the Annunaki discover they are ill equipped to labor under the harsh conditions found on Earth, they create a workforce called humans, a hybrid manufactured from their DNA and a species known as hominid.

The Serpent Priestess Ninkha and her husband Lord Enki are charged with this task, battling not only the challenges faced adjusting to life on Earth, but Enki’s brother, Enlil, as well. Will the humans live as Enki and Ninkha envisioned–able to learn, create and above all, reason? Or will they subjugate themselves to Enlil and his rule willingly?

At stake is the future of the Priestesses of Damuth, who, along with their serpents, service the Annunaki with their own blood, providing those who partake of the cocktail of blood and venom the ultimate in achieving a higher state of consciousness, along with youth, vigour and longevity. If Enlil, whose disdain of them is well-known, wins, what will happen to them?

To protect themselves and their descendants they form the ‘Dragon Court’, but is it enough?

Serpent Priestesses or Witches, Gods or Demons, Aliens or Ancestors, Oppressors or Creators?

Perhaps all of the above…………..

The Ice Goddess b Hannelore Moore

The Ice Goddess

In the bitter winter of 1752, Evangeline Grey is determined to return to London, claim her inheritance, and lead a solitary, uneventful existence. York holds too many sad memories for her now, and she’s ready to leave it behind.

When she finds out that her guardian has designs on her — and her pending fortune — Evangeline manages to escape, but her journey south is fraught with uncertainty and danger. Mourning the murder of her brother, still reeling from her aunt’s recent death, and close to penniless until she finds her way back to London, she’s never been more alone.

And then, on a desolate Northern English moor, she meets a benevolent stranger who changes everything.

Kendall Beaumont is a man running from a few demons of his own. On his way to his home in remote Almsborough, he stops to help the pretty, young runaway. The future seems fairly bleak for the both of them — until he decides to make her an offer she can’t refuse…

Hannelore Moore About Hannelore Moore:

In 2012, Hannelore published a short story in Timeless, a young adult anthology from Cool Well Press. Since then, her work has appeared in The Rusty Nail literary magazine and on the Flash Fiction World website, among other places. In June 2013, she won The Iron Writer Challenge #17. Hannelore is a rabid Anglophile, as you’ll discover when you read her work, and recently published her first novel, Tower Bridge. You can find more information about her on Hannelore’s Happenings (http://hanneloreshappenings.blogspot.com/)

How to reach Hannelore Moore:

Twitter: @HanneloreMoore1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hannelore.moore.10

Blog: http://hanneloreshappenings.blogspot.com/

 

Excerpt of The Ice Goddess

1752

Evangeline

I’m worried about my Aunt Caroline. Her laughter is infrequent these days, and she seems to be walking through the house in a sort of haze. Once, in the dining room, I even saw her clutch onto the back of a chair, as though she were steadying herself. When I rushed over to ask what was wrong, she gently held up her hand to prevent any help I might offer and said she was fine; she just hadn’t slept well the night before.

As I stand by the window and stare out into the dull, February afternoon, I have a marvelous hope: perhaps she is with child. That would make her unbelievably happy. She’s always wanted a baby but was never so fortunate with her first husband, Andrew.

I turn to see Gregory walk into the small study, and I smile at him slightly, wondering if he suspects the same thing about his wife. I think he’s surprised by my expression, for it’s rare that I interact with him at all.

After two years, I still can’t get over Gregory’s youth and good looks. He’s so handsome with his chiseled features and pale blue eyes that it’s almost distracting. He wears wool breeches and one of his heaviest dress coats, for the day is exceedingly cold, despite the bright, dancing fire in the grate. He was muttering about the price of perukes the other day – maybe that’s why he’s powdered his own dark-blond hair and pulled it back into a queue. From what I understand, he’s nothing like Andrew Bingham, who was portly and jolly and near sixty when he died. Indeed, in Andrew’s simple, scholarly house, filled with books and maps that I treasure, Gregory sometimes appears at a loss.

I’ve always suspected that he wasn’t too pleased when Em and I came from London to live here. Nevertheless, he’s treated us with kindness — or maybe a better word is indifference. For some reason, though, my brother has openly showed disdain towards him ever since we arrived in York. Em never told me exactly why Gregory bothered him so, but perhaps he saw or heard things that were kept from me. Then again, Em treats most people scornfully.

Gregory toys with the chess set on the elm tripod table. Lately, I’ve been running into him more often, it seems. That musky cologne he wears always precedes him. He wanders into various rooms when I’m already there or ends up at the stables planning to ride when I’m preparing my own horse for an outing. Right now, he picks up a knight made of veined white marble and studies it absently.

“Would you like to play?” I ask, wishing I were more comfortable with him so I could broach the subject of my aunt. But I can wait. Such news is out in good time.

“Play?” he echoes, looking up at me, and the light in those eyes makes me think he’s talking about something else. There’s a lilt in his voice as he says, “Not just now, Evangeline.”

I nod. It’s probably better, anyway. We had a game once, and I won, easily. Gregory was angry about that, although he tried to pretend otherwise. Em stood in the background, smiling broadly, not attempting in the least to hide his glee over Gregory’s loss.

We can hear the pounding at the front door from here. As surprising and desperate as the summons is, I’m glad of it, for Gregory’s eyes haven’t left me. They’re steady and contemplative. I get nervous when people pay too much attention to me, always thankful for anything that might distract them.

We both step out of the study as Caroline starts down the stairs. Our butler is leading David, the innkeeper’s son, through the entryway. I push Gregory to the back of my mind because too many things about this new scene disturb me. Why is David here, wearing that torn black greatcoat? He set off to Oxford with Em just a fortnight ago to serve as a valet. Em, you see, wouldn’t hear of living on his own without a manservant. The boy is dirty and ragged, quite a different creature from the proud, well-scrubbed assistant we sent south. At that time, he preened in his new clothes, looking as much the proper young man as Em. Even my brother, usually self-absorbed with his own concerns, complimented him on his aplomb.

And then there’s Aunt Caroline, approaching David now, her eyes worried and afraid. She looks terrible. I realize she wasn’t feeling well today, which explains why she decided to rest after dinner, but the malady afflicting her is more than a simple headache. There’s something dreadfully wrong with her. She should have stayed in bed. I know she is too curious, though, and evidently struggled downstairs again to see who was calling. Despite the fact that she wears a loose sack dress, it’s obvious she’s lost weight. Against the dull, snuff-brown linen of her garment, her skin is pale. Not fashionably so, but sallow and waxy and damp with perspiration. I try to convince myself that women appear this way in the first months of their pregnancy, but I give that up quickly enough. My aunt isn’t with child and probably never will be.

She leads David into the withdrawing room. Gregory and I follow, even though I want to run in the opposite direction. Out the front door, to the stables so I can saddle my horse and ride far away from here. I watch, becoming detached, as she tells David to sit before the fire. The boy doubles over in a worn upholstered chair and begins to cry. I don’t want to feel what he’s feeling; I don’t want to know what he’s going to say. After a while, he calms down, for, despite her illness, Caroline’s easy presence soothes him. She has a way of doing that, of making people comfortable.

“Can you tell me now?” she asks in her sweet voice.

David stares at the unadorned, wooden hearth, and then, with dull, heavy words, he relates a story about highwaymen and the Oxford coach. Somewhere south of Nottingham, they blocked its progress. The occupants were mercilessly shot, including Em. Only David managed to escape. It has taken him this long to return to York, and he misses his mother very much — more than he ever thought he would. But before he saw her, before he went home, he wanted to come here to let us know what happened.

I continue to look at David as he speaks, refusing to believe him. Em can’t be dead. Not Em, who has so much planned for himself. He intends to write a great novel, just like Mr. Fielding, his idol. And as long as I can remember, he’s looked forward to teaching at Oxford. He loves poetry and prose and hopes to help others appreciate the beauty of the written word. A mere pistol shot wouldn’t hurt someone like him. His sarcasm and that condescending manner of his make him invulnerable.

“No,” I say to David, almost apologetically. “Not true.”

Gregory steps over and takes my hand in his, but I continue to study David. The boy is wrong. He has to be.

“Do you think I’m making this up?” David says. “Why would I tell such a lie?”

“You’re mistaken.” I shake my head and feel very dizzy all of a sudden. Gregory has to steady me, apparently, by wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“Have Abby take Evangeline up to her room.” I hear Aunt Caroline say, and the next thing I know, I’m climbing the faded wooden stairs, my lady’s maid at my side. We are at my threshold and then in my room, and it’s so incredibly cold. Abby leads me to my plain bed and I have the presence of mind to sit down on the edge. I stare past her, seeing nothing.

“You must rest.” I hear the catch in her voice and wonder why she would be upset, because it’s obvious that David is wrong.

I nod anyway, to appease her, and allow her to prepare me for bed. The day is gray and never seems to end.

 

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction/Romance/Historical

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

Cover Reveal For The Letter Drawer

Cover Reveal
For
The Letter Drawer
Sarah Galloway

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 The Letter Drawer
True love never dies, but is it enough to heal a broken faith?

Claire and Evan met when they were children. They grew up together and fell in love. When Evan became a soldier, he and Claire held onto their love, remaining faithful to one another through every deployment. As the years passed, it seemed that life had given them everything they ever wanted … until tragedy struck.
Evan, left in the wake of tragedies, is now forced to decide what is most precious to him. Will love heal him or will devastation destroy his faith? Can Evan’s family show him the way? Can love truly set him free?

Genre: Fiction, Christian, Romance
Release Date: June 12, 2014

Five Habits to Avoid in Fiction Writing

Another great article from Scribendi I just had to share. This site is so great in giving meaningful writing advice, i’ve made it a part of my reading schedule. Make sure you visit this site during your writing journey. I’ve noticed a change in my own writing and it’s just been a week!

Bad Habits You Must Avoid In Your Writing!

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1. Generic verbs and nouns

Imagine trying to paint everything in the world using only four colors. The results would probably look pretty generic. When you are a writer, your language is your medium. People, places, and things (i.e., nouns) have names, and it’s your job to know what they are. Precise nouns work wonders in fiction writing because nouns have connotations or meanings that go beyond their dictionary definitions. If one character gives another character flowers, tell readers what kind of flowers. Are they tulips or columbines or snapdragons or peonies? This information could hint at what time of year it is (tulips are pretty scarce in September) and could also tell us something about the character who gives the flowers. Four dozen roses are expensive—does this person have money or like to show off? A bouquet of wildflowers might have come from the character’s backyard—perhaps this person likes to garden.

A similar thought process should be applied to the selection of verbs. There are at least 12 synonyms for the verb to laugh, and each one evokes a specific image. A character could express amusement by cackling, chortling, chuckling, giggling, guffawing, snickering, sniggering, tittering, crowing, whooping, simpering, or smirking. Precise verbs contribute greatly to characterization. If a man walks into a room, all readers know is that he has entered. He could be anybody. But if he limps in, right away readers want to know if he is old or injured or tired. If he gallops in, readers know he is energetic or excited about some piece of news. If he swaggers, readers wonder if he is full of himself or perhaps just drunk.

2. The exception: He said, she said

Reading good dialogue makes readers feel like they’re actually listening in on a real conversation. Because of this, it can be very disruptive if the author keeps butting in to tell readers that the speaker intoned or declared or asserted or retorted. It could seem that using “said” repeatedly in dialogue tags is repetitive, but in fact the little word is so inconspicuous, it just fades into the background—which is exactly what we want when we’re trying to listen in on a good conversation. The rare deviation is fine (asked, in particular, seems to be okay once in a while), but if you find yourself using a colorful synonym for every dialogue tag in your manuscript or screenplay, you may be doing more harm than good.

3. Adjective/Adverb-a-rhea

Sometimes a well-placed and specific adverb or adjective strengthens or clarifies an image. However, many writers, in a misguided attempt to make their fiction writing descriptive, overuse these words. If you master the use of precise nouns and verbs (see tip number one), you’ll almost certainly avoid the bad habit of propping up a weak verb or noun with a host of intrusive modifiers, as in the following example:

Carrying a steaming and fragrant mug, she walked angrily and loudly into his office.

Why write that, when you could have simply said:

Carrying her peppermint tea, she stormed into his office.

The second sentence actually gives us more information using fewer words.

Furthermore, when editing your manuscript, be especially wary of adjectives that don’t actually convey much…

interesting, lovely, exciting, beautiful

…and adverbs that introduce redundancy…

stereo blared loudly (blared implies high volume)

scrubbed vigorously (scrubbed implies intensity)

…or contradict the meaning of the verb or adjective they modify.

slightly pregnant (with pregnancy, you either are or aren’t!)

very unique (something is either unique or not unique)

4. Inconsistent point of view

An author of fiction must choose the perspective, or point of view, from which a story will be told. In first-person narration, one charactertells the story in his or her own voice (using “I”). Third-person narration can be either limited (an objective narrator tells the story by focusing on a particular character’s thoughts and interactions) or omniscient (the narrator sees and hears all). No single point of view is better than another, but once you have made a choice, be consistent. If your story is told in first-person, then remember that the narrator must be present in every scene he describes to the reader; otherwise, how would he have the information? If a limited third-person narrator who hears only Tom’s thoughts tells the story for the first four chapters, the reader should not suddenly be privy to the mailman’s daydreams in chapter five.

Of course, there are some fine examples of novels that experiment with point of view by switching between narrators. But even in these stories, some kind of predictable pattern is imposed for clarity, such as a change in narrator from one chapter to the next but not within a chapter.

5. Unnaturally expositional, stilted, or irrelevant dialogue

Read your dialogue out loud. Does it sound like the way people actually talk (without all the ums and ahs and boring digressions, of course)? Do the characters rattle off factual information you are trying to jam into the story? Are they talking about the weather? Because if they’re talking about the weather, you’d better have a good reason for it. Otherwise, the reader will feel bored, and a bored reader closes his or her book and turns on the TV.

All this advice is important, but by far the worst habit a fiction writer can develop is the habit of giving up too easily. Keep writing every day. If you need help, remember that our manuscript editors are available 24/7 and they can help you tackle all of your manuscript mishaps.

 

The End by Denise Moncrief

The End:

Sometimes the end is only the beginning.

 

Almost a year after her husband dies, Ellie Marston opens the file for Tab’s last manuscript, a thriller so compelling it reads like a true story. His manuscript needs an ending, so Ellie writes the obvious conclusion. The same morning she types The End, her career as an assistant district attorney falls apart. Accused of throwing the high profile Patterson case, she resigns in disgrace. The only friend she has left in the criminal justice system is Det. Paul Santiago, a man she has worked closely with on numerous cases. While she was married to Tab, she squashed her growing feelings for Paul, determined to make her deteriorating marriage work, but circumstances after Tab’s death bring Ellie and Paul together.

Ellie’s paranoia increases as she becomes convinced Patterson is harassing her, certain that someone is searching her belongings for any hidden evidence she might have that would reopen his case. It becomes clear there was a conspiracy to release Patterson. She seeks help from her former co-worker, Presley Sinclair, but soon discovers Presley is deeply involved in the subsequent cover up. Worse yet, Tab’s affair with Presley drew him into the twisted conspiracy as well.

Together Paul and Ellie attempt to uncover the conspiracy in the District Attorney’s office, the set up that forced her to resign. The key to the mystery is hidden in the pages of Tab’s manuscript. Once Paul and Ellie come to the correct conclusion—Tab’s manuscript is a true story and Ellie’s added ending is the only logical outcome—Ellie attempts to reveal Patterson’s hidden partner in the District Attorney’s office, but the co-conspirator she uncovers is not whom she suspects. Danger swirls around her as she steps further and further into the conspirator’s trap.

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Excerpt of The End:

Tab’s Mac wobbled on the edge of the coffee table in front of me as my fingers tapped out the letters of the final sentence of the final scene as if they had a mind of their own. The idea for the ending had come to me in the middle of the night, and I was determined to finish the project before I forgot what I wanted to write. I hit return and then spaced down and typed The End with a flourish. I didn’t know if writers wrote that at the end of a manuscript, but I did it anyway.

I leaned back on the sofa. A smile should have formed, but it didn’t. I was pleased…but exhausted. The urge to finish Tab’s final project had been satisfied. How did he do this? The process had mutilated every one of my emotions.

He had put a lot of himself into his writing. I’d watched him, absorbed for hours on end, struggling to choose just the right word or just the right sentence structure. He’d tried for years to get an agent or a publisher to read one of his manuscripts. After numerous rejections, he’d send them to the virtual trash bin with an angry jab to the delete button. It appeared like a lot of wasted effort to me.

Thinking about Tab kicked me in the gut once again. He had been dead for almost a year, but his memory could still hit me hard when I least expected it. It’s true. You never get over losing someone you love the way I had loved him.

I was awake late one night the previous week watching Castle on a Netflix disk, when I decided it was time to read Tab’s unfinished masterpiece—well at least it would have been a masterpiece in his humble opinion—if he had discussed it with me. He never mentioned the project. I didn’t even know the manuscript existed until after the accident that took his life. If I hadn’t been searching the hard drive of his Mac for something else, I would have never known about it.

Odd. Tab wasn’t a secretive sort of guy. Was he?

So his unfinished manuscript had remained unread on the hard drive of his Mac for months. I’d put the idea of reading his final words aside, but then I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to read what he left behind.

When I opened the file, I expected to read something sentimental and just a little cheesy, something with a made-for-television happy ending. I expected to cry like a baby when I read his final words. Tab was the most dramatic man I’d ever met.

Instead, I became engrossed in a thriller that read so real I wondered if he had written a true story. All the plot needed was a realistic ending.

And the end came to me in the middle of the night.

It was done now. For better or for worse. I reached for my coffee mug and took a sip, then grimaced. The brew had gone stone cold. I rose from the sofa and slogged into the kitchen to refill my cup and stick it in the microwave. As I waited for the ready beep, the view outside my window captured my attention. A bare limb of an oak tree swayed, easily manipulated by the wind. The weather promised another gloomy, rainy day. I pulled my robe closer around me, but the chill of the morning pierced the terry cloth. I shuddered and headed for my bedroom.

My linens lay on my bed, twisted and tangled from tossing and turning. I had no desire to go to work. Finishing Tab’s masterpiece had drained my energy, and when I finally dragged my butt into the office, I would have to confront my boss. Executive Assistant District Attorney Michael Leads would not be happy with my lack of progress on the Baxter case. Into my second year as an assistant district attorney, I was well aware I had missed my calling. My confidence in the criminal justice system had disappeared. My passion for convicting the right offender put me in constant conflict with a process that had morphed over the years into a system designed for speed rather than accuracy.

With no enthusiasm, I dressed for the day. I chose my best black suit because it matched my mood, but beneath it I wore a bright, cherry red blouse. My power outfit. I needed all the chutzpah I could manage to face Leads’ wrath. It was coming at me, like a hurricane hovering off the coast trying to decide which shore was most vulnerable.

After applying a few final touches to my makeup, I zipped a brush through my hair, made a pretense of brushing my teeth, and swished an ounce of mouthwash. I held my hand over my mouth. My breath still smelled of stale coffee. I looked into the mirror and groaned, then swiped at the toothpaste stain on my lapel with a damp rag before heading toward the living room. After a few minutes of panicked searching, I found my only pair of black heels under the sofa.

I was as ready for my confrontation with Leads as I was ever going to get. My briefcase leaned next to the front door where I’d dropped it the night before. I had planned to review some case files before I went to bed, but once I closed my apartment door behind me, nothing could have motivated me to open my briefcase last night.

The ride to the office was probably the longest of my career. Lights flashed through the windows as the train passed through another station. I held tight to a strap above me because all the seats were full, always a marker of how my day would go. I was running late, and there was no hope for me.

My mind drifted. Instead of mentally listing the things I needed to accomplish at work that day, I dwelt on how I should have chosen a different path for my life and what that path would have been. Had everything I suffered to work my way through college and then law school really been for nothing?

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction/Romance/Suspense

Release Date: September 5, 2012

Digital ISBN 13:978-1-939217-69-1 ISBN 10: 1-939217-69-5

Print ISBN 13:978-1-939217-70-7  ISBN 10: 1-939217-70-9

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

download (6)Denise wrote her first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a little money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous short stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes when she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading, and scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and one very chubby dog.

www.denisemoncrief.com

www.denisemoncrief.blogspot.com

www.facebook.com/DeniseMoncriefAuthor

www.twitter.com/dmoncrief0131

www.amazon.com/Denise-Moncrief/e/B007Y6Z1CU

Ten tips to help you avoid telling writing

Hi All!

My editor keeps telling me I ‘tell’ a story instead of ‘showing’. She did explain it to me but I still had no idea what she was talking about so I went looking for a detailed explanation. I found this article on Scribendi and it helped me a lot and i thought to share it with you. It has a lot of helpful tips on showing writing.

How to Avoid Telling Writing in Fiction

 

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Creative writing teachers love to dole out wisdom or advice about fiction writing, as if they’re part of some esoteric order that guarantees enlightenment to all who memorize their pearls of wisdom. One of the most often quoted axioms is: “Show, don’t tell.” The idea is to keep students from explaining the story, that is, to stop them from using telling writing and get them to use showing writing instead. Creative writing students have heard this phrase so many times it has essentially lost all meaning. In fact, it has become such an entrenched part of learning how to write that we seem incapable of recognizing the statement fails to fulfill its own standards. “Show, don’t tell”? Pfft… Have you ever read a more telling sentence in your life? Never one to be content with the status quo, I have compiled ten tips that actually describe how to avoid telling writing.

1. Use dialogue

This is probably one of the easiest ways to avoid telling writing. Dialogue allows readers to explore the scene as if they were there. Dialogue can also help with characterization, providing emotion, and accentuating mood. Here’s a fun exercise: try to write a complete story using only dialogue.

2. Use the senses

Another way to avoid telling writing is to make use of the five senses. Evoking the senses requires readers to recall their own experiences. Try to focus on the underused senses. Writers tend to focus on the senses of sight, touch, and hearing, but smell and taste are just as evocative. One of my favorite books as a kid was Jerry Spinelli’s “Maniac Magee.” It’s the book that made me want to be a writer, all because of one phrase: “sweet onion smelling grass.”

3. Description

Description is sometimes problematic because it’s so easy to overdo. Remember the job of description is to paint a scene, but only the necessary parts of that scene. You don’t need to include every detail. Describe what is relevant and describe it in a new and fresh way. For example, instead of this telling writing sentence, “John was very tall,” try something like, “John kept bumping his head on the top of the doorframe.”

4. Look for adjectives

This is a great technique for finding instances of telling writing in your manuscript. Nearly every instance of an adjective is an undeveloped opportunity for some great showing writing. Consider the phrase “smelly dog.” As a phrase, it’s fine, if boring. Try to show the smelly dog: “Joanna wrinkled her nose as the dog approached and then tried to sneeze the scent away.” Your turn: try to think of other ways to describe a smelly dog.

5. Use nouns that work for you

Nouns are the laziest parts of speech in the English language. They don’t really do much. Whatever they are, that’s what they are. But nouns can be whipped into shape and used to avoid telling writing. Consider the difference between the words “husky,” “dog,” and “mongrel.” They might all refer to the same thing; but ask yourself, which would you rather pet?

6. Avoid adverbs

Avoiding adverbs is another relatively simple technique that will help turn your telling writing into showing writing. These little words are very easy to spot. Look for any word ending in “ly” and consider expanding it to show the story action. Instead of “She ran tiredly,” consider the phrase “She ran until her legs pumped battery acid.”

7. Metaphors

Using metaphors is another great way to avoid telling writing. However, as with description, you must be careful when using metaphors because they can cross into the realm of clichés in the blink of an eye. If creative writing has a crime worse than telling, it’s being clichéd. If you use “in the blink of an eye,” I will personally come and poke you in your blinking eye.

8. Be on guard for emotional qualifiers

I don’t have many pet peeves in writing, but emotional qualifiers drive me absolutely nuts. Whenever I read the word “anguish” in creative writing, I see red. Words like “amazement,” “happily,” and “sadly” make my blood boil. Instead of using these empty words, find new and refreshing ways to describe emotional states, or better yet, allow your characters to convey their emotional states through action and dialogue. That being said, writers should also avoid clichéd gestures for emotion (e.g., biting fingernails to convey anxiety).

9. Be specific, not vague

The above points could be accurately summarized by stating that writers should be specific rather than vague. Telling writing does not deal in specifics, which allows writers to rely on generalizations. For some reason, writers sometimes fear that being too specific will alienate their readers, but the opposite is actually true. The more specific you can make your writing, the more accessible your writing becomes—and the larger your potential audience.

10. Don’t overdo it!

Now that you know how to show, you must remember one other axiom–with great power comes great responsibility. “Show, don’t tell” is not a license to overwrite. While researching this article, I came across sample after sample of over-written prose submitted as examples of “showing” writing. Good writing should mix showing and telling. Telling writing is boring. Writing that only shows has a tendency to be so over the top that it detracts from the story. Ultimately, your goal as a writer should be to engage your reader with interesting, fresh, and concise prose. Admittedly, this is sometimes difficult, but Scribendi.com’s book editors can critique your story and ensure that it is the best it can possibly be.

On Thin Ice By Bernadette Marie

Another great novel by Bernadette Marie… On Thin Ice!!

Bernadette Author

Malory (Wil) Wilson needed to recover from her divorce. A nice transition from West Coast life back to Aspen Creek, the small Colorado mountain town she grew up in would put things straight. The plan was foolproof until she discovered that the first man to break her heart, retired NHL player Christopher Douglas, also returned to Aspen Creek.

 

Christopher had taken enough hits in his career. He didn’t know his heart would take one when Wil returned to Aspen Creek. Hell bent on winning her over after having broken her heart years earlier, he will risk everything to get her back—including his life.

 

When the ice rink Malory’s father built faces being shut down the couple find themselves working together to save the business. However, forgiveness and newfound love just might come to a crashing end when Christopher’s archenemy skates into town bent on revenge.

 

Skating on thin ice, without a guardian angel looking out for Christopher, Malory could lose him forever.

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Excerpt of On Thin Ice:

The tires of Malory’s old red Jeep crunched the frozen snow over loose gravel. The sound curled her mouth into a smile. That was how winter was supposed to sound.

The sky filled with the orange and blue hues of a rising sun as the chill of the air stirred together with the heat from the vehicle’s heater. All of it brought back a flood of memories from her childhood. All of them warm and welcome.

She pulled her Jeep into a parking space in front of the large metal building that housed the ice arena. A huge banner above the front doors read, “Home to NHL Player Christopher Douglas.”

She shook her head. Well, she thought, at least someone claimed him. If memory was correct, he’d played for multiple NHL teams in his very short professional career. So he’d never called anywhere home for long, except Aspen Creek.

But everyone had started somewhere, including her.

Above the banner announcing the fame of Christopher Douglas was the name of the building. Aspen Creek Ice Center.

It was good to be home.

And home was where she planned to stay.

She didn’t see her father’s pickup parked on the side of the building. She’d told him she’d meet him there at seven. It was already seven-ten. He wouldn’t have headed off to breakfast without her. After all, he’d awakened her at four forty-five in the morning just to invite her.

She turned off the engine and pulled the keys from the column, placing them in the pocket of her coat. She might have been born and raised in the small Colorado town where people left their doors unlocked and the keys in their cars, but she’d been in California long enough to have picked up some less trusting habits. Sadly, those new habits had her locking part of herself away too.

She stepped out into the cold and quickly slid on her gloves. It was the kind of cold that took your breath away. It froze the inside of your nose, and when the wind blew through the valley, it burned your skin. She pulled the stocking cap from her pocket and pulled it over her head, making sure to cover her ears. She hit the lock on the door and slammed it shut. Then as fast as she could, without falling on her butt, she headed across the slick parking lot for the front door of the arena, which had been the love child of her mother and father years before she’d been born.

The heater above the door did its job. It took that pins-and-needles chill from her skin just enough to comfort her.

White concrete walls, which held bleachers on the other side, blocked the view of the ice rink from the door. There were no spectators at seven fifteen on a Wednesday morning, but the ice wasn’t empty.

Malory had been there enough times in the early morning to know that at least a dozen figure skaters and a few hockey players had already etched their presence into the glossy finish of the ice before they went about their day.

Malory stood there for a moment. She closed her eyes and just let the building surround her. When she opened them, the smiling faces of the hundreds that had graced the ice over the past forty years greeted her. Early photographs in black-and-white and later ones in color lined the corridor that lead toward the ice. The first set of eyes to catch her matched her own. They were her mother’s.

Malory stood and stared at the picture of her mother, then only twenty-two. She wore an Olympic medal around her neck and had a bouquet of roses tucked in the crevice of her arm. Hadn’t that been the very picture her father had hoped to recreate with her? Oh, he’d tried, but she was never the skater her mother had been.

She blew out a breath. Her parents had opened the skating rink with money her mother had won from competitions and endorsements after her Olympic win. People had laughed at them. The hockey player wanna-be and the washed-up Olympian. What good was it going to do to build an ice rink in a town of three thousand? But the gamble had paid off.

Young girls wanted to skate under Ginger Bromell-Wilson. Boys wanted to learn to play hockey from Harvey Wilson, the man who had almost made it to the NHL. Neighboring towns embraced the opportunity, and the Aspen Creek Ice Center was born.

Only four short years later Malory entered the picture. Another two and her mother was gone.

Malory had lived thirty-one years without her mother, but it still tore her apart. She didn’t know her. She didn’t have one memory of her except for the pictures that hung on the walls of the building her father had put up twenty years ago to replace the original structure. What Malory had was the sadness that her father had always carried in his heart.

He’d tried to replace Ginger, Malory now understood, with her. He’d tried to raise her to be an Olympian figure skater. But she was no Ginger Bromell-Wilson. She was only a look-alike with some of the skill.

Malory let her mother’s eyes follow her as she walked down the corridor toward the ice. There were no figure skaters on the ice as she’d first thought. She didn’t have to see it to know that. The sound was of a single skater. The short stops that tore up the ice and the sound of wood hitting the cold hard surface said hockey player. There was the sound of the puck sliding on the ice. The ping as the puck ricocheted off of the pole and the crack of the stick against the ice in a fit of anger resonated through the arena. Curses that flew from the mouth of the player confirmed that the player was an adult and had missed the mark of the net. A low laugh escaped her throat. You were never too old to enjoy indoor ice.

She turned down the short hall that led to the ice. The smell of adrenaline and sweat had permeated every crevice of the building over the years. It was a nasty smell, but it too made her feel at home.

Breathing deeply, she lifted her head to watch the hockey player she’d heard when she walked in. She saw him and gasped. He skated down the ice, around the other net, keeping the puck on the edge of his stick and then as he hit the blue line, he smacked the puck into the net. He turned back around, caught the puck with the stick, and then caught her eye.

The crooked grin that erupted on his face made her heart rate kick up. It raced so fast that she wasn’t sure her chest would hold it inside any longer. Fifteen years had passed since they’d last spoken, but not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought of him.

Malory tried to will her feet to walk closer to the door he skated toward. She found the task hard to do. His hair was long and peeked out of the sides and back of his helmet. His dark eyes sparkled as he neared her.

By the time he’d unlatched the door, she realized she’d walked toward him and now he towered above her only inches away. At six foot three, he was an enormous sight in front of her. The skates added at least three more inches to his height. He wore no pads, but his shoulders were square and muscular under his loose jersey.

 

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary

Release Date: September 4, 2013

Digital ISBN 13:978-1-939217-75-2 ISBN 10: 1-939217-75-X

Print ISBN 13:978-1-939217-76-9 ISBN 10: 1-939217-76-8

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

Other posts on Bernadette Marie

Lost and Found, Center Stage, First Kiss, Keller Family, Opposite attract