Ebook Ghostwriting Jobs Novels & Stories

'Perhaps, when the time comes, my only option to show my support as her friend is by educating her on how to self-publish. ..... After her meet-up with Aurora, Lucy Roces decided to visit the ghostwriter behind most of the stories of 'Night of Terror'. She first bought some chicken and vegetables for dinner which she planned to share with the ghostwriter before driving to his apartment located on the outskirts of the city. An hour later, she parked her red car on the roadside. Because she sighted something interesting several meters away, she stayed inside and only rolled down the car window halfway. That was how cries filled with remorse and sadness entered her ears.

Lately, if she saw him twice a week, it was a lot. “So, how are things at work? They seem to keep you busy lately.” She asked him, trying to dig a bit. He looked at her and shrugged, “I’ve been approaching e-novel authors for the next big thing. From what I can see, there is an abundance of untapped talent out there and e-novel websites are the only way for them to get their stories out into the world. They have given me 4 months to land a best-seller.”

Miss Dana replied with equal excitement and hung up. I stood from my seat and jumped up and down like a child. I was super excited to be writing for one of the most renowned publishing companies in Nigeria. My novel wasn't only read in New York but extended to Nigeria as well. Ever since I came back home two months ago, I had been getting offers from writing firms and even Agro-allied industries as a food processor and project manager. I had chosen to take the food processing job as my day job and the writing work as a side job since I only wrote from home. It was better that way but I was tired and in need of a break.

“I just need your help with a little thing.” Lance stopped rotating his chair. “Go on.” “I need you to publish a book,” Calvin said. “Yours? You need a ghostwriter?” Calvin frowned. “What’s that?” “Someone who’ll write your idea at a price,” Lance explained. “The name on the book will be yours, of course. No one will know you used someone else. Is that what you want? Why do you need a ghostwriter?” “I never said I needed one.” “But you want to publish.”

Her heart began to pound, slow at first, then faster, louder—until she could feel it in her chest, in her throat, even in her fingertips resting on the edge of her laptop. “That’s not possible,” she whispered under her breath. She leaned closer to the screen, rereading the email carefully, this time searching for hidden details, fine print, or anything that would expose it for what it had to be—a scam. Because it had to be. No one paid that kind of money for writing. Not in her world. Not for ghostwriters, who worked quietly behind the scenes, earning just enough to get by while someone else took the credit. She had written countless stories for clients—romance, drama, even personal memoirs—

But they didn’t hit bottom. They landed on a soft, glowing surface—a giant open book, appearing out of nowhere. Near the edge sat a young man in a t-shirt and jeans, a pencil behind his ear. He looked like any student. “Nice catch,” said the young man, smiling kindly. Maya helped Julian up and held the iron key, ready to fight. “Who are you? Are you an Editor?” “Me? No,” the kid laughed, standing up. “I’m the Ghostwriter. The Author hired me when she was too tired to finish your story. I’ve been keeping you alive while the Board tried to delete everything.”

She proceeded to straighten her already perfect tailored black gown for the umpteenth time as she shot herself a final look. Phoebe had just gotten a job offer from an online site that she’d signed up for. It was a writing contest that was currently ongoing in the state and even though she wasn't a writer, she had felt bored and so had decided to sign up as she'd read quite a lot of novels and had even if it was just the slightest idea of what writing entailed. She'd proceeded to write a short story which she submitted, but to her utmost surprise, she won the contest and was selected amongst two others to become a writer for the organization. They were asked to come to a venue where they wou

"Nothing serious. I have projects for some companies." He nodded gently. "Wow, that's great. Anyone would think you're jobless, but you're making cool cash in your room." "Well, I love what I do. And copywriting could be rewarding." "So, what are the current projects about?" She sat on the bed. "I have copies to write for some adverts, and some email newsletter as well. But I haven't been productive recently. I just have a lot on my mind." Ethan relaxed in the armchair and crossed a leg over the other. "What is bothering you?"

None of them felt me. But then, tucked neatly in the classifieds, I saw it. Tech Company Seeks Copywriter. Immediate Hire. Competitive Pay. My pulse quickened. It wasn’t writing novels, but it was writing. Words, persuasion, creativity—I could do that. Maybe it was the lifeline I’d been waiting for. Before I could overthink it, I drafted a resume, brushed it up with what little confidence I had left, and emailed it to the address listed. I didn’t expect a reply so soon.

She pointed. “That–” I followed her finger. “Oh that's my journal.” “You write?” She eyed me. “I like to write. But lately, I've ran out of inspiring topics.” “Hmm, you did say you were a fan of my blog, right?” “Yes.” “So what do you say I pay you a thousand dollars weekly to write a piece for my blog? Of course it'll pass as mine. You'll just be like a–” “Ghostwriter?” I questioned feeling that cloud of disappointment again.