What Skills Do Proofreading Novels Jobs Require For Fiction Manuscripts?

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Her name was Cathedra. Leave her last name blank, if you will. Where normal people would read, "And they lived happily ever after," at the end of every fairy tale story, she could see something else. Three different things. Three words: Lies, lies, lies. A picture that moves. And a plea: Please tell them the truth. All her life she dedicated herself to becoming a writer and telling the world what was being shown in that moving picture. To expose the lies in the fairy tales everyone in the world has come to know. No one believed her. No one ever did. She was branded as a liar, a freak with too much imagination, and an orphan who only told tall tales to get attention. She was shunned away by society. Loveless. Friendless. As she wrote "The End" to her novels that contained all she knew about the truth inside the fairy tale novels she wrote, she also decided to end her pathetic life and be free from all the burdens she had to bear alone. Instead of dying, she found herself blessed with a second life inside the fairy tale novels she wrote, and living the life she wished she had with the characters she considered as the only friends she had in the world she left behind. Cathedra was happy until she realized that an ominous presence lurks within her stories. One that wanted to kill her to silence the only one who knew the truth.

I woke up inside a novel, and not even as an important character. I became a pretty background extra in a smut novel. My brother, however, was the only normal person in the entire story. His character setting was the one man the soft, delicate heroine could never win over. He was the cold, unattainable Prince Charming she could never conquer. When the heroine cried and confessed her love, he was studying. When she offered him her whole heart and body, he was busy starting a company. When she spiraled into scandals and nightlife, he was already a billionaire, calm and untouchable. I thought he would live a quiet, ascetic life forever. Until one night, I walked in on him at midnight… holding a piece of clothing I recognized all too well, murmuring a name over and over, a name so familiar that my scalp tingled.

I've sculpted a character based on my boss, Jacob Carter, in my smutty novel. Jacob, who's a cold, distant, and stern man in reality, is reduced to a lovesick simp in my novel. Apparently, he's maddeningly in love with me there. But when I tender my resignation letter later on, Jacob rips it into shreds before cornering me. "Oh? Are you planning to leave now that you've finished writing that novel of yours? How dare you discard me as soon as you're done with me! What am I, a cheap escort?"

There is nothing Iris loves more than curling up with a ridiculous werewolf romance, laughing her head off at every over-the-top, cringey scene and swooning at the shameless smut. But one night, partway through an e-novel by a mysterious "Author 456", she chokes on a Doritos chip, dies, and wakes up inside the story as the doomed heroine. Now she’s trapped in a medieval werewolf afterlife with bizarre werewolf laws, dangerously hot Alphas, and plotlines she knows will end in her eventual demise. There’s Alpha Kieran, her volatile, possessive fated mate who’ll tear kingdoms apart to keep her. And there’s Alpha Rowan, the charming first love who still holds a piece of her heart and isn’t afraid to fight for it. Their rivalry is a ticking time bomb that is already threatening to spark a war, and Iris is right in the middle. As if juggling two jealous, dominant Alphas isn’t enough, a human rebellion is rising, and every move she makes could shift the story’s fate. She's got only one goal; to survive long enough to find a way back home before her “tragic ending” catches up to her. Expect heated glances, possessive growls, steamy arguments that turn into even steamier reconciliations, and enough bedroom (and not-so-bedroom) scenes to make you blush in public. This is a laugh-out-loud, heart-racing, smut-laced romance you won’t be able to put down.