Betrayal Prologue: Come and Get Me, Publishing House!
Okay. Here goes nothing...
I decided to post the Prologue to my much-hyped, much-talked-about, but thus far unpublished novel, Betrayal. For a couple of reasons:
1. I hope I get some feedback that may help me discover why I can't get the damn thing published.
2. I felt I had something akin to a fan base happening now, and thought I'd give my fans a sneak-peek at my romantic suspense writing.
And 3...
You only live once, so why not?
Here it is...enjoy!
What am I doing? I don't want to go through with this.
She stood before the full-length mirror, in the little room at the back of the church, checking her reflection.
What she saw disheartened her even more.
She should have seen reflected back a woman ecstatic on this day of all days, the day she’d remember for the rest of her life. She should have seen herself glowing with excitement, bubbling over with anticipation of the ceremony that would start an hour from now; she should have seen a look of sweet anxiety, a look to show she was anxious and excited to begin her life with the man of her dreams: her groom.
What she saw instead was a woman dressed all in a blush hue, dressed in the wedding gown she’d picked months ago and believed was perfect for the day…She saw reflected back a haunted look of sadness, a pain burning behind her dark eyes, a pain that was causing her to frown into the mirror. A frown that carried to the depths of her soul, and down to the tips of her toes, and back up to the twinkling tiara atop her head. A frown that was causing her heart to ache, her soul to rip into shreds, her stomach to roil in a mass of sick nerves, as she dreaded what lay ahead.
She smoothed the full skirt of the dress, and turned away from the sight of herself. She moved to the table in the corner of the small room, where her glass of pink champagne was perched so prettily – she could even hear the pink bubbles fizzing. Taking a sip, she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. The plan had been to happily drink a couple of glasses of her favorite bubbly while she took her time getting ready, composing herself and her thoughts, excitedly awaiting the start of her wedding and her married life. Now, she wasn’t sipping her champagne contentedly, awaiting her special day with her special man; no, she was drinking it now in the hope of dulling some of the pain, the hurt she was feeling over, well, everything. Her life.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t in love. Oh, no, she was definitely in love, alright. Just not with the one she was supposed to be in love with.
She couldn’t even remember when the lines had begun to blur; she couldn’t remember the exact moment when her love for her fiancé, if she’d ever really loved him at all, had begun to fray around the edges, and when the love for another man - the only man - had first sprouted and grown. Perhaps as early as the first moment she’d laid eyes on him; perhaps as early as then she’d fallen in love with him. She didn’t know why it had happened, why she’d fallen for him, over her own fiancé, but, somehow, someway, she’d certainly fallen out of love with one, and in love with another.
But none of that mattered now. She was about to be married.
And the groom wasn’t the one she loved.
She almost bent her head in pain now, in torture, in grief, over that fact. She wasn’t marrying the man she loved at all.
Why are you doing it then? Why are you marrying him?
But she knew the answer already. The reason she was still going ahead with the wedding, the reason she was about to commit to a life of marriage to the one she didn’t love, was buried deep in her past. Because of events that had happened years ago, back in her home town, she couldn’t break off the wedding now. She was terrified of breaking his heart. And the consequences if she dared to break his heart. She’d learned the hard way once before. She wasn’t going through that again.
Instead, she was chaining herself to a commitment of a loveless marriage. Well, he loved her, she knew that. She just didn’t love him. Not anymore, anyway. Not since she’d fallen in love with another. In love with him.
She put down the delicate champagne flute, and returned to the mirror for another torturous look. Yep, it was as bad as the first time. The sight of herself, shackled in her wedding dress, was almost her undoing. She lowered her face to her hands, willing the tears not to start, or she knew she’d never stop.
Her head rose when she heard the door behind her open, then close. She saw him in the mirror, and her heart leapt in surprise. She whipped around to face him. “What are you doing here?” she practically shrieked.
He remained silent, watching her, and she noted how gorgeous he looked in his tux. She spotted the bruised eye, black and purple, out of place on his otherwise immaculate form.
His eye stood out to her, for she was sporting a matching one. How strange, for them to both have matching black eyes.
Then she noticed the grin on his face.
Of course, he’d grinned at her a thousand times. A thousand and one times. He had a beautiful smile, that lit up his bright blue eyes.
Normally. Normally he had a beautiful smile.
But not now.
Something about his grin caused her heart to beat that little bit faster, in uncertainty.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Why was he looking at her that way? With a maniacal gleam to his eyes? And why was he just standing there like that? Not saying a word?
And why, dear God, did the ground seem to be shuddering? Like the slow rumblings, the build-up, to full-blown seismic activity deep in the ground.
Then she saw it.
But she saw it too late.
He raised the gun, mere steps from her, and fired.
She thought of Belle, immediately. Saw her gorgeous younger sister’s face. Saw flashes of their childhood, of the happy times with their father, of the not so happy times with their mother. Saw Belle blossoming into a young woman. Saw Belle lying in a puddle of blood, after being shot.
She hoped this was hallucination. Hoped, prayed, wished, that Belle was still at the mansion.
All these thoughts took milliseconds to revolve round in her head. She heard herself scream. A scream of shock, of terror, as she felt something shatter, heard the slick, wet shattering. She realized as she fell backwards, as if in slow motion, that the shatter she’d felt and heard was her ribcage.
Or her heart.
One or the other.
She hit the floor, hard, and, just before the darkness crept in to take her, a thought kept spinning round and round crazily in her head:
He was supposed to love me...
I decided to post the Prologue to my much-hyped, much-talked-about, but thus far unpublished novel, Betrayal. For a couple of reasons:
1. I hope I get some feedback that may help me discover why I can't get the damn thing published.
2. I felt I had something akin to a fan base happening now, and thought I'd give my fans a sneak-peek at my romantic suspense writing.
And 3...
You only live once, so why not?
Here it is...enjoy!
Betrayal
by K.L. Almeroth
Prologue
She stood before the full-length mirror, in the little room at the back of the church, checking her reflection.
What she saw disheartened her even more.
She should have seen reflected back a woman ecstatic on this day of all days, the day she’d remember for the rest of her life. She should have seen herself glowing with excitement, bubbling over with anticipation of the ceremony that would start an hour from now; she should have seen a look of sweet anxiety, a look to show she was anxious and excited to begin her life with the man of her dreams: her groom.
What she saw instead was a woman dressed all in a blush hue, dressed in the wedding gown she’d picked months ago and believed was perfect for the day…She saw reflected back a haunted look of sadness, a pain burning behind her dark eyes, a pain that was causing her to frown into the mirror. A frown that carried to the depths of her soul, and down to the tips of her toes, and back up to the twinkling tiara atop her head. A frown that was causing her heart to ache, her soul to rip into shreds, her stomach to roil in a mass of sick nerves, as she dreaded what lay ahead.
She smoothed the full skirt of the dress, and turned away from the sight of herself. She moved to the table in the corner of the small room, where her glass of pink champagne was perched so prettily – she could even hear the pink bubbles fizzing. Taking a sip, she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. The plan had been to happily drink a couple of glasses of her favorite bubbly while she took her time getting ready, composing herself and her thoughts, excitedly awaiting the start of her wedding and her married life. Now, she wasn’t sipping her champagne contentedly, awaiting her special day with her special man; no, she was drinking it now in the hope of dulling some of the pain, the hurt she was feeling over, well, everything. Her life.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t in love. Oh, no, she was definitely in love, alright. Just not with the one she was supposed to be in love with.
She couldn’t even remember when the lines had begun to blur; she couldn’t remember the exact moment when her love for her fiancé, if she’d ever really loved him at all, had begun to fray around the edges, and when the love for another man - the only man - had first sprouted and grown. Perhaps as early as the first moment she’d laid eyes on him; perhaps as early as then she’d fallen in love with him. She didn’t know why it had happened, why she’d fallen for him, over her own fiancé, but, somehow, someway, she’d certainly fallen out of love with one, and in love with another.
But none of that mattered now. She was about to be married.
And the groom wasn’t the one she loved.
She almost bent her head in pain now, in torture, in grief, over that fact. She wasn’t marrying the man she loved at all.
Why are you doing it then? Why are you marrying him?
But she knew the answer already. The reason she was still going ahead with the wedding, the reason she was about to commit to a life of marriage to the one she didn’t love, was buried deep in her past. Because of events that had happened years ago, back in her home town, she couldn’t break off the wedding now. She was terrified of breaking his heart. And the consequences if she dared to break his heart. She’d learned the hard way once before. She wasn’t going through that again.
Instead, she was chaining herself to a commitment of a loveless marriage. Well, he loved her, she knew that. She just didn’t love him. Not anymore, anyway. Not since she’d fallen in love with another. In love with him.
She put down the delicate champagne flute, and returned to the mirror for another torturous look. Yep, it was as bad as the first time. The sight of herself, shackled in her wedding dress, was almost her undoing. She lowered her face to her hands, willing the tears not to start, or she knew she’d never stop.
Her head rose when she heard the door behind her open, then close. She saw him in the mirror, and her heart leapt in surprise. She whipped around to face him. “What are you doing here?” she practically shrieked.
He remained silent, watching her, and she noted how gorgeous he looked in his tux. She spotted the bruised eye, black and purple, out of place on his otherwise immaculate form.
His eye stood out to her, for she was sporting a matching one. How strange, for them to both have matching black eyes.
Then she noticed the grin on his face.
Of course, he’d grinned at her a thousand times. A thousand and one times. He had a beautiful smile, that lit up his bright blue eyes.
Normally. Normally he had a beautiful smile.
But not now.
Something about his grin caused her heart to beat that little bit faster, in uncertainty.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Why was he looking at her that way? With a maniacal gleam to his eyes? And why was he just standing there like that? Not saying a word?
And why, dear God, did the ground seem to be shuddering? Like the slow rumblings, the build-up, to full-blown seismic activity deep in the ground.
Then she saw it.
But she saw it too late.
He raised the gun, mere steps from her, and fired.
She thought of Belle, immediately. Saw her gorgeous younger sister’s face. Saw flashes of their childhood, of the happy times with their father, of the not so happy times with their mother. Saw Belle blossoming into a young woman. Saw Belle lying in a puddle of blood, after being shot.
She hoped this was hallucination. Hoped, prayed, wished, that Belle was still at the mansion.
All these thoughts took milliseconds to revolve round in her head. She heard herself scream. A scream of shock, of terror, as she felt something shatter, heard the slick, wet shattering. She realized as she fell backwards, as if in slow motion, that the shatter she’d felt and heard was her ribcage.
Or her heart.
One or the other.
She hit the floor, hard, and, just before the darkness crept in to take her, a thought kept spinning round and round crazily in her head:
He was supposed to love me...
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
Ash
Motherhood
Thanks Ash,
Your comments mean the world to me...and the fact that you read it!
Love that you want to read more!
K.L.
V8 Supercar Pitstop
Just keep trying, that's all I can say; keep sending out that MS. Is this the finished product or just one of the many intermediate drafts? The twist is good and grabs your attention, making the reader want more.
Have you thought about sending it to one of those MS appraisal services? It can be pretty expensive but they can give excellent advice and agents always look more favourably upon manuscripts with positive comments from appraisal services.
Congrats and keep writing.
A.H.
Great Prologue ...
I wish I'd thought of taking a gun to my wedding ...
I will respond more in due time ... (especially in regards to how about securing an agent ... and commenting a little further on manuscript assessment agencies due to Andrea's comment. They can be of immense value in securing an agent) ...
As to why it hasn't been picked up yet ... You must remember you are dealing with bureacratic morons ... and number crunchers, not creative people with imaginations who are prepared to live in poverty to achieve their dreams ...
Homer ...
Motherhood
To Andrea and H.J.
I am so in love with you guys right now!
Thanks for the positive feedback. And not just ripping me to shreds, and throwing me back in the water...appreciate it!
Andrea, I'm glad you like the twist...there's many a twist in my book, which is why it disappoints me so that people aren't out there, reading it! I feel like if only it could be given a chance, so many people out there can enjoy all the twists throughout!
Not to mention the sex, the comedy, the action, the romance...
And H.J.....you crack me. You truly do. I laughed myself stupid over that one.
Glad you liked it. Your opinion was really the one concerning me, for some reason!
Better not talk too high yet...am about to send you the whole bloody thing.
K.L.
P.S. Guess I better start looking into these manuscript services...they seem like all the rage with you (actual) writers.
xxoo
V8 Supercar Pitstop
Never give up and never be afraid of rejection. I'm sure you will get your work published at some point.
A.H.
P.S. Don't you just love writing sex scenes!!
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
You are most welcome. All the best, let us know what happens. As Homer says we are faced with people who are worried about the numbers and not the talent - perhaps we should all club together and do some self-publishing group style...publish a book a week, support each other with promotion and instead of the publishing house taking all the profits we plough the money back in to get others published and make the money we deserve for our time and effort.
Ash
To Andrea,
Oh, yes....those sex scenes are my favourite!
I love writing anything involving romance, in my books!
Thanks for the kind words,
K.L.
To Ash,
I will keep you updated!
I totally agree...we need to band together, come up with some money somehow, and make our own publishing house, and publish all our work!
Would be great!
K.L.
Celebrity Obsession
I really enjoyed the prologue. I totally didn't expect the twist with the gun. And lets face it, it's rare that you're surprised by a plotline twist in most romance novels!
I'm a fledging romance writer myself and am working on my first manuscript (well, the first one I'm bloody well going to finish anyway!!), so I'm watching your journey with interest (and selfishly and am hoping to learn something for myself out of it).
Keep plugging away, I for one am hoping that you get published.....I want to read more of this book!
KylieW
KylieW,
Thank you for your kind words!
Glad you were surprised by the intro...I like to think that's what I bring to the romance genre...I like my twists that are in my novels...
I am so happy to hear you're writing your first romance manuscript! Very exciting...if you're interested, and have the dough, you should join the Romance Writers of Australia...I joined up in February, and the information I get just from their monthly journal they send you as a member is invaluable...plus they hold a conference each year. I didn't make it to this year's, but I'll definately be at next year's one...apparantly its full of hints and tips and seminars, and cocktail partys, and romance books...
Getting carried away, but the RWA really do help keep me motivated each month!
But back to Betrayal, my (other) baby....yes, I'm keeping a record of all my fans (love that word), so I'll send you the published version...when its published.
Thanks again for reading and enjoying,
K.L.
Always Eighteen: Japan Edition
Hmm... maybe you need a catchy synopsis attached to your manuscript? J.K Rowling was rejected several times before Harry Potter was eventually published.
I like your prologue K.L
To Always Eighteen,
Hmm...you've sparked an idea in me...about posting what I've been sending out, synopsis wise...seeing what everyone thinks....just may do that!
Glad you liked the prologue...if someone with your raw, Dickens-esqe talent can enjoy it, there is hope for me...
You've given me hope!
Thanks for reading,
K.L.
WE WANT ART WITH AESTHETICS!!
To MatthewB,
Thank you so, so much...love what you wrote.
Thanks for taking the time out to read it...
And yes, I love a good lover's drama...the world needs more of it!
Love is timeless, after all...
K.L.
WE WANT ART WITH AESTHETICS!!
Motherhood
To MatthewB,
Very deep, and very true!
I love what you've said about love.
K.L.
Rugby World Cup 2007
I am so sorry it has taken me this long to get around to reading the prologue.
K.L....I'd like my book autographed please...and could you write a little note?...Just putting my request in now....for my Christmas Book Wish List...
The Banyan Literary Agency.
www.banyan.com.au
(link provided)
All the Power of My Sisterhood Solidarity to you my sister.
yours always in MOSTEST
Dusk
Motherhood
To the sweet smelling Dusk,
You are a true light in my life!!! You radiate beauty and all things positive and divine!
I will check out the link you provided...thank you so much for that, and for reading this!
Of course you can have an autographed copy!!! With bells on it! And some lovely ripe strawberries....and a minature bottle of pink champagne attacked to it....
What an idea! Every copy of Betrayal with a bottle of pink champagne!!
I'm a marketing genius!!!
Your sis always,
K.L.
Motherhood
Oops...I said attacked, not attached...
How horrible!
Well, those pink champagne bubbles can attack you, that's for sure....
Your sis who can't spell,
K.L.
Rugby World Cup 2007
Good Morning K.L. my sweet sis...
That's a fantastic idea! Seriously...it is. Don't know how they're going to stack the books on the shelves but...where there's a will (and a bottle) there's a way.
K.L...have you tried contacting publishing houses in the US and in England? Distance is no longer a factor in this age of technology.
I have many writer friends, some published, some not yet and they do say that it is not so easy to break into the Australian industry.
Like with all Australian talent...you've got to go offshore to get recognised at home.
Then you'll be part of the 'Our of Power'...Our Nic, Our Hugh, Our Cate, Sort Of Our And Depending On His Behaviour Russell, Our K.L. ....
(Also feel Homer Joyce belongs to the Our of Power but he thought I was talking about a religious program on TV!!!)
You were not created the way you are if you were not meant to achieve what you can.
Huh?
Sorry...it's morning...had a late night...my beloved love of my life has had to leave me for a few days to go fix a problem elsewhere and...I got attacked by pink bubbles big time yesterday!!
Don't doubt yourself darlin'.
You have a talent.
It's how you market the talent that unfortunately is the difference between a succesful published author and a gifted unpublished one.
I will look into some things where I am and try to provide you with some more contacts.
Much MOSTEST my sister
Dusk
Motherhood
To my MOSTEST girl,
Ah...just reading your comments always makes my heart lighten!!
I'm so happy you liked my prologue...enough to recommend that site, and check things out for me! I cannot thank you enough!!
Yes, I'm currently trying to attack those overseas publishers and agents - not with pink bubbles (don't know if they deserve pink bubbles yet), but with my work!
It's been rejections so far. Still waiting to hear from 3...one of them may be a positive!
I can only keep wishing and wishing!!
I love your 'Our' notion....very true! Can't wait to be an 'Our K.L.'
Oh, that will be the day!!!
Your sis always,
K.L.