I’m sure we’ve all been there. Someone agrees to beta read your novel, and they find something terribly wrong with it. My most recent beta reader read 3/4 of my novel and would not continue. They said it disregarded the laws of physics too much for them to bear. Keep in mind, I didn’t classify my novel as a hard science fiction, but a soft, character-driven science fiction. I’m usually very upfront about that fact. I wasn’t aware that science fiction required all scientific laws to be followed.

Either way, I was devastated. Out of all the feedback I’ve received, this is the first person who has completely abandoned the project. It made me question myself and my writing. I’m not exactly sure how to handle this. Should I adjust based on the rejection?

Edit: Since some have pointed out they can’t judge if they don’t know to what extent laws were broken, I’ll name a few. 1) Certain planets called “living planets” can absorb energy from their sun. 2) The sun itself can be re-energized from a dying state with an energy equivalent transfer. 3) Brainwave transmitters are used to communicate between different languages. 4) Spaceships can survive a supernova, but not without significant damage. Keep in mind, this world includes shapeshifting aliens and technology that doesn’t exist. The basis for the story already establishes that real, hard science takes a back seat.

Hey! I am looking for beta readers for the first three chapters (6k words) of my novel. Percy Jackson meets Jujutsu Kaisen in this South African folklore-inspired fantasy.

Blurb:

Thirteen-year-old Kabelo Mogale spent most of his life feeling invisible—until one day when his father is swallowed by an ancient evil spirit called the Inkanyamba. Kabelo is then introduced to the Village of Wilting Lotus, where he discovers he's descended from a lineage of powerful African warriors tasked with protecting the world from malicious entities.

But the Inkanyamba is a formidable beast, undefeated since its emergence centuries ago. And as it turns out, Kabelo's father is only a bargaining chip; Kabelo is the real target the Inkanyamba's waiting for.

To add insult to injury, the ancestors refuse to accept Kabelo as one of their own for reasons unknown. So, unwanted and powerless, but not without friends, Kabelo breaks out of the Village in rebellion and has seven days to travel the country to find a talking cape—the only and unconventional key to rescuing his father before he becomes monster chyme—all the while fending off other malicious spirits, pesky Wardens, panic attacks, and cantankerous elders raring to get in his way.

Excerpt:

"Moving around the country so much from nightmarish monsters only you can see changes you. You keep one eye on the door of the room you’re sleeping in, and another beneath the bed. Even the tiniest noise will rouse you, almost as if it were thunder knocking on your door instead.

Which was why when I woke up, I didn’t open my eyes yet. I had to assess my environment with my other senses first, decide how deep in the mud I was, and then freak out appropriately."

Current State:

This is draft 4 of the manuscript, revised and edited multiple times.

TW:

Anxiety and panic attacks.

Threat of harm (monster fights, what do you expect lol)

Feedback: Critique on prose, dialogue, characters, and pacing. (Not so much line editing)

Preferred response time: Up to 2 weeks

--------------- I am willing to exchange critiques, provided it is within the same genre (fantasy; it can be MG/YA/Adult). If you’re interested please feel free to comment/DM. Have a great day!

Genre: YA Contemporary / Coming-of-Age

Length: ~39,000 words (complete draft)

Content warnings: Strong language throughout, references to vaping, a school suspension, and a romantic relationship — nothing explicit, but the emotional stuff runs real.

Synopsis: It's the night before sophomore year, and the narrator is lying awake running through the same anxious loop he runs every year: bad schedule, hard classes, awkward friend group politics. He has no idea how much is actually about to change. Over the course of the school year — fall ball, Halloween, a suspension, a slow-burn relationship with a girl named Jessica, and a falling-out-and-back with his best friend Jordan — he has to figure out who his friends actually are, who he misjudged, and who he's becoming underneath the version of himself he shows at the lunch table. It's a slice-of-life story about the small, specific moments that quietly rearrange a person over one year of high school.

My main questions:

• Does the opening chapter hook you enough to keep reading?
• Does the voice feel like a real teenage guy, not an adult writing one?
• Pacing — any spots that drag or move too fast?
• Any characters who feel flat or underused?

In a world of elite international assassins, Russell Pace is Detroit’s third-best hitman.

He has a bad knee, a pill habit, and one too many dead bodies after the “perfect” hit goes belly-up. In the Detroit underworld, the top five killers are ranked, from Russell’s idol, the legendary Mysterious Number One, on down. Violence is regulated by contracts. Violating the terms of a contract calls for punishment. Russell’s punishment? He can take on a trainee from the Serrilli family—hated rivals who may have had his dad killed—or get ribbons cut from his skin like the last guy who lost his rank. Or was it a skin scrunchie?

The trainee turns out to be Serrilli’s niece, Sofia. She’s cunning, captivating, annoying, with a habit of getting the best of Russell in every exchange. They have two days to plan a public assassination of a low-level drug dealer in Saginaw, Michigan, and he has two days to stop falling for the enemy ’cause she’s going to get him killed.

Meanwhile, Jo Hanada, a recently paroled hitman, is murdering his way towards the same target, on a mission to recover stolen drug money. He plans to kill Russell and Sofia if they get in his way.

They get in his way.

I'd love to get feedback in three areas:

A) Pacing.

B) Any clarity issues. Inline comments flagging any sentences or details that are confusing.

C) If you have firearm, law enforcement, or military experience, I could use some factchecking on the action scenes.

Leave a comment or message me and I'll send you the first chapter.

Looking for a beta reader for my children's book involving lions. No AI please.

Sage has spent years learning how to survive the life she was given. therapy teaches her how to begin building one of her own. but healing doesn't mean forgetting. as Sage confronts the attachments, memories, and pieces of her she once believed were broken, she must learn where the person she was ends - and the person she is becoming begins. Finding Benson is a quiet, deeply personal story about identity, attachment, and the difficult freedom of becoming yourself.

*Content warning: while no trauma is directly depicted on page the effects of trauma are heavily displayed, such as hyper vigilance, anxiety, ect.

I'm looking for basic structure feedback as well as for character arcs. I have a questionnaire that I can send prior to committing if requested. no set timeline, read at your own pace.

I'm available for swaps that are read at your own pace or longer deadlines. interested in fantasy, romance, and dark romance.

Looking for a couple first-round beta readers for my adult academic fantasy novel, THE ARCHIVISTS. 97,000 words across 30 chapters. It’s gone through several rounds of self-editing, and I’m looking for folks to do a read-and-react and point out inconsistencies, plot holes, missed opportunities for characterization, etc. Will send a Google Doc link, and appreciate comments left anywhere and everywhere!

THE VIBES:

•  Dark academia, but the academics are adults with jobs
•  “Congratulations on your prestigious fellowship! Unfortunately, it is cursed.”
•  Scholarship as literal magic
•  Ensemble cast / found-family-ish cohort dynamics
•  Competent, ambitious heroine
•  Brilliant, distractible love interest
•  Colleagues -> research partners -> oh no
•  Everyone has their own flavor of dysfunction
• SPICE:  1/ 5 (yearning, flirting, and physical intimacy; no explicit content)

BLURB:

Art history professor Cora Chamberlain has spent her career becoming exactly the person academia rewards: polished, brilliant, disciplined, and increasingly uncertain who she is beneath it all. When she’s selected for a prestigious fellowship at the secretive Institute of Applied Humanities, she expects ivy-covered buildings, academic rivalries, and a year of career-making research. Instead, she discovers that magic is real, the Institute is responsible for keeping reality intact, and that one of the seven fellows will ultimately be chosen to maintain the mysterious Archive at the center of it all. As Cora grows close to Benny Hartwell, a brilliant but awkward narratologist, their investigation into a vanished novelist’s journal begins exposing secrets the Institute would rather keep buried. Because the fellowship isn’t quite the opportunity Cora thought she’d earned–and becoming the best candidate in the room may cost her everything she has left of herself.

FIRST PAGE:

The fan on Cora’s desk did nothing but move heat around. 

When she’d been allocated the room in the corner of the top floor of the university’s art building, Cora had wondered why none of the senior faculty had wanted the office with the windows. Within her first week, she’d understood why–from ten in the morning until seven at night, the sun turned the room into an oven, even with the shades down. Although long practiced at ignoring her own discomfort, Cora was becoming more aware by the second that a generous application of clinical-strength antiperspirant had not been sufficient to keep her from sweating through her blouse, even with her hair clipped up off the back of her neck. 

She’d been there since seven that morning, grading essays from one of her summer sessions. All of them recycled the same handful of half-remembered talking points from her lectures, shuffled and rewritten with generous assistance from an AI chatbot. Western Art Survey II, Cora had begun to suspect, was karmic punishment for some horrible thing she’d done in a past life. No matter how carefully she taught, her students managed to produce masterpieces of confident inaccuracy; the last essay she’d read had continually referred to Van Eyck’s The Arnolfini Portrait as “the wedding painting.”

Whereas other professors' desk drawers were full of paperclips and dried-out pens, Cora’s contained body spray, an extra stick of antiperspirant, and handfuls of surprisingly absorbent napkins stolen from the campus coffee shop. The drawer stuck in the humidity, requiring her to brace one knee against the frame and pull. 

Her desk was meticulously organized, because an orderly office kept Cora’s thoughts away from bigger, more unmanageable problems, like her stalled research, her mother’s last email, or the way her stomach soured when anyone mentioned the department budget. So when she wrenched open the drawer and saw the envelope, Cora knew, instantly, that she had not put it there. It was made of a heavy, cream-colored paper, unmarked except for her name and title in thick serif type: Dr. Cora Chamberlain.

A perfunctory knock jarred her office door, which she’d propped open for airflow. “Cora,” said her department chair, leaning in without waiting for an invitation. “You got a minute?”

Hi everyone! I'm looking for beta readers for my completed multi-POV epic fantasy. The story follows six POV characters across two timelines separated by ten billion years.

Blurb

ARYANU

Before there was a universe, there was a prison.

Aryanu shared it with his brother Raenor and the two beings they called Mom and Dad. The breaking of its walls marked the birth of the universe.

Then Mom disappeared, leaving her sons with an impossible burden: create the universe she had envisioned. Before she vanished, she made Aryanu promise one thing.

Protect Raenor. No matter what.

But can he trust the brother he has sworn to protect?

RAENOR

Raenor envied his brother. Aryanu was stronger, and Mom and Dad praised him for it. Raenor needed another way to surpass him.

Unlike Aryanu, creating the universe is not a burden for Raenor. It is a need.

And Raenor knows something his brother doesn't. He knows not to trust Mom and Dad.

------------------------------------------------

Ten billion years later. In a godless world.

KAMENI

Kameni was dead when he was born. The sea brought him back.

Years later, when the earth tried to claim him, a mysterious light saved his life. Then the dreams began, nudging him towards a light in the ocean.

Whatever waits there seems to have been waiting for him.

SKARMEN

For twenty thousand years, Zamaria has ruled the world. Skarmen is next in line to rule it.

But he wants something far simpler than a kingdom: an end to the dreams plaguing him with an impossible task.

Find a way to travel across the water. Go west.

But with his empire beginning to fracture, Skarmen must save it before he can save himself.

ACHORIS

For ten thousand years, Zamaria has ruled Ta-Mery with the whip. Its people have been enslaved, beaten and humiliated, yet no one has dared rise against the empire.

Then grief came for Anaya, and Achoris could stay silent no longer.

For fifteen years, he has built an army in secret. Now Ta-Mery is ready to fight back.

Will Achoris lead his people to freedom, or become their doom?

ANAYA

Achoris began the rebellion for her.

For fifteen years, they dug together. Plotted together. Bled together. Now its survival rests upon a narrow pass.

Achoris needs time. Anaya must buy it.

She is ready to die. She only needs to survive long enough.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a world where humans don't believe in gods... Why do gods need humans?

What I'm looking for

I'm primarily looking for -

• Pacing of the story.
• World building.
• If it's emotionally engaging? 
• If the stakes and progression felt real?
• Overall readability.

 

Content warnings

Violence, slavery, oppression, death, child endangerment, and mature themes.

Timeline

Ideally 4–6 weeks, but I'm flexible. I'm also completely fine with feedback being sent in chunks or chapter by chapter.

Critique swap

I'm open to critique swaps.

If you're interested, please comment or DM me. Thanks!

Hello, all! I am looking for a few beta readers to take a look at my debut novel, Tethered and Bound. I will be self publishing it this December and am hoping to receive some constructive feedback if needed.

Below I have included the first few pages as a sample of my writing style and the story. If you’d like to read more, please DM me. I would be happy to email you the manuscript.

Also, all are welcome to message me with any questions!

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The seaport had a way of killing Dyer women. Here, they never succumbed to old age, nor drifted into a dreamless sleep from which they would not awaken. For over three hundred years, the dense forests and murky shorelines of Hollows Cove, Massachusetts, had demanded payment from those unfortunate enough to inherit the surname, a debt only suffering could settle. 

In her youth, Bloom Dyer had often contemplated the ways the seaport might claim her. Would she be burned at the stake like Sybil, the first of eight to meet a morbid end? Or maybe she would go like Iris, ensnared in a fishing net on a morning swim. For years she’d obsessed over the same question, ruminating on the black bear that had dragged a shrieking Josephine into the forest and the nameless, ulcer-inducing illness that had taken Arabella. She had hoped to be luckier than Vanellope, whose wails could be heard for miles when she’d been skewered on a butcher’s hook, and more resilient than poor Wilhelmina, whose broken heart had heaved her over the edge of a rocky cliff. The seaport had dutifully ended eight women of the name, so when the first vision struck, Bloom had known beyond a doubt that the seaport had finally come to collect.

Gripping the ladder with one hand and a pristine paperback in the other, Bloom stood on her toes, straining the feeble inner muscles of her torso to reach the top shelf. Night shifts at The Port, a quaint bookstore near the edge of town, often required some manual labor when it came to restocking. Just enough physicality to keep the visions at bay for a little while longer. 

“Benny,” she shouted over her shoulder, glancing at the steep staircase leading to the apartment upstairs. “You ordered way too many biographies again! We’ve been over this—romance sells, not…” She glanced at the title and sighed, “H. P. Lovecraft.” 

Although Bloom favored the gothic poet, along with all other classics, horrors, and oddities, the modern masses did not. 

Benjamin’s scuffling footsteps sounded overhead, followed by an eerie groan from the pinewood floors shifting beneath his weight. “I swear, the publishing industry made you arrogant. You’ve lost all passion for artistry!” he hollered back, distance muffling his voice. “Fiona would be appalled. She always hated tasteless know-it-alls!” 

At even this brief mention of her grandmother, the eighth and final Dyer woman to meet a bloody end, Bloom loosed a grief-addled hiss. 

She muttered bitterly, “My ego died the day I moved back here.” Two months prior, when she’d discovered that sitting at a desk for eight hours a day often triggered her visions—prompting her to lose that so-called-arrogance-inducing job—she’d traded in the bright lights of Manhattan for the suffocating sea fog of Hollows Cove. Admittedly, it had been as easy for her to leave the city as it had been to leave every other place she’d lived. With a name like hers, Bloom could play a part in many people’s lives, just never an integral one. An ember stoked by the mercurial gale of her mother’s nomadic spirit. In her family, leaving places—and people—came as naturally as breathing. Returning was the real challenge. 

“Am I arrogant,” she yelled, carefully descending the antique ladder which had given her enough splinters to kindle a witch’s pyre, “or am I right?” 

She could hear Benjamin’s tottering footsteps aiming for the staircase, his soft chuckle at her words. The old man’s tortoiseshell cane tapped repetitively overhead, and then, louder than before, came his raspy voice. “We must agree to disagree, then.”

Bloom winced, forcing herself to pause as the backs of her eyes prickled like a spider bite—the first sign of an impending vision. There was only so much physicality could do to ward them off. Within the hour, agony would claim her body, plaguing her mind with strange, unrecognizable images. Since early December—the morning of her twenty-third birthday—the visions had tormented her on a near-regular basis, searing as though a ghostly fire poker was cauterizing the backs of her eyes. 

“Another migraine?” the old man inquired, wrapping a hand around her forearm to help her down the ladder. She hadn’t told him the true nature of her ailment, that six separate doctors had already ruled out migraines, along with every other disease that could simultaneously cause excruciating head-pains and vivid hallucinations. “How about I make you a nice, hot cup of tea? I read that chamomile works wonders on stubborn headaches.”

Not headaches, Bloom thought, gritting her teeth as though the words might slip out. Visions. Medically inexplicable visions. 

“I never liked the taste,” she said instead, tucking a strand of copper-colored hair behind her ear as she turned toward him.

Although Benjamin had changed some in the fifteen years since their meeting, his kind gray eyes remained the same. She’d first glimpsed the pepper-toned hair and wiry brows at the funeral of Violetta Dyer, the seventh woman to be claimed by the seaport and Bloom’s mother. That day the sight of mourners weeping over her mother’s casket had sent her into hiding, though it had been the empty look on Fiona’s face that had kept her there. It had cost the old man six pumpkin candies to coax her out from under the buffet table, and an additional six to keep her out. Benjamin had been a pillar in her life ever since. 

“You must do something, darling,” he pressed, irritation now etched on his face. Not that she blamed him; it was likely frustrating to watch a person succumb to their illness, resigned to wither away sliver after sliver.

To assuage his worries, Bloom feigned the brightest grin she could muster. “On that note, I’d better get going. There’s a queen sized bed across town that’s been calling my name since lunch.” It was a lie, of course. She could not sleep—the visions wouldn’t let her.

A deep crease dented his forehead as he surveyed her, then nodded. “Good thinking. Would you mind locking up on your way out?”

“Sure,” Bloom replied, already halfway to the exit when she plunged a hand into her pocket. The blue, book-shaped keychain dangled from her fist as she called over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow night!”
As she slipped through the front door, Benjamin shouted, “Tomorrow morning, Bloom! Like it or not, you’re scheduled for the morning shift.”
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the desperate pleas of my bed!” The shopkeeper’s bell drowned out his reply. 

On the glass panel of the misty-blue door, The Port was stenciled in fading gold letters, her reflection a hollow apparition between them. In the ten months since the visions had started, her face had grown sunken, the cream-colored skin turning a ghastly, near-corpse-like shade of gray. The worst of it had snuck up on her, prowling with the careful calculation of a graveyard cat. Every edge on her figure had become dreadfully sharp, her ribs and hip bones protruding in a sickly manner the streetlights unfavorably emphasized. 

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she uttered mournfully, uncertain if she’d been all that mighty to begin with. 

Sighing, Bloom veered right onto Holly Street, sidestepping a raised chunk of pavement she had tripped over enough times to know its precise location in darkness. From there, she would hang a left onto Marion, jump a wide, decade-old dip in the road, then take another left onto Heyward Street, where the onshore winds grew unruly, ramming into her side with bellowed howls. Every night she walked the same barely lit streets. Every night she strode down them once, and sometimes twice—however long it took to ward off the visions. 
Stepping over a toy pail thrown haphazardly onto the sidewalk, Bloom studied the cedar-shake cottage ahead, its yard littered with brightly colored children’s toys. Over the past decade, Hollows Cove had become something of a layover town, a transitory port for newlyweds who couldn’t quite afford a three-story new-build in the finer suburbs. On muted nights like this, she often wished the newcomers would stay put, growing in quantity until they outnumbered the deep-rooted locals. Or rather, one local in particular. 

As if to remind her of the brunette demon who’d run Hollows Cove High like a fascist dictator, the moment Bloom turned onto Marion, her focus locked on a cherry-red door that she had vehemently hated since the age of seven. Of course it was ridiculous to hate a door, but she simply couldn’t help it, because that picture-perfect cherry-red door belonged to Nora Turner, and Bloom hated Nora as fiercely as she hated her door.

Just as she cleared the shadowed cottage, there was a creaking sound, then a familiar, biting voice: “Bloom Dyer.” 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Nora’s slim figure emerged from the porch like Tennyson’s kraken rising from the sloshing black depths. “I heard a rumor you’d returned.” Her cutting brown eyes held a contempt she reserved only for Bloom and casual footwear. “I was hoping it was false.”

The last time they’d seen each other had been five years ago, on the eve of graduation. Nora, unsurprisingly, had changed very little since then. With the same headband and pearl earrings she’d had trademarked since middle school, Nora now wore a matronly cardigan that, coupled with her blunt, shoulder-length haircut, aged her far beyond twenty-three. 

Satisfied by the observation, one corner of Bloom’s mouth lifted into a sly grin. “So was I.”

As Nora’s nose scrunched in annoyance, Bloom questioned how they’d ever been friends. Having met on the first day of the second grade, the pair had quickly bonded over their shared love of Grimm’s fairy tales and grilled-cheese Uncrustables. It had taken exactly a week for Nora’s kindness to sour when she wordlessly passed Bloom the following Monday with their classmates in tow. Sometimes, whenever her thoughts ran awry, Bloom could still recall the feel of her smile slipping, hand held high in a wave as Nora and her posse snickered. 

“I guess we’re both disappointed, then.” Nora glided down the porch steps, something flashing near her left knuckle. A cruel smile cut across her face as she lifted her hand to reveal a diamond ring. “Isn’t it gorgeous? My fiancé has the most wonderful taste.” A trap had clearly been set, but what kind? “I think you knew him—he went to high school with us.” Her eyes flared, a predator primed for the kill. “His name is Evin Byrne.”

There it is. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Bloom lied, hating how quickly her stomach bottomed out, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Pretend it doesn’t matters. Pretend he’s insignificant. 

Judging by the way Nora’s smile sharpened, she knew it too. “Funny—when I told him you moved home, he said the same thing about you. Took a few stories to jog his memory.” A wide, feline grin. “And a few photos.”

Bitch.

Nora, like every other person in this wretched town, knew exactly what Evin had been to Bloom. How, in the end, he’d betrayed her. 

Although Bloom burned at the words, she said coolly, “Right—I remember now.” Like she could ever forget. Evin Byrne had been the first and only boy to break her heart. In the end, he’d left her for someone shiny and new—less sharp around the edges—but not before showing the entire football team a few less-than-clothed Polaroids of them together that coincidentally only Bloom had been shamed for. 

Before him, it had always been clear who someone was, those around her proudly waving their true colors like banners. It was Evin who’d taught her how easy it was to be deceived, how dangerous it could be to trust someone wholly. A lesson she’d regretfully learned wailing, then never again. Now she’d do whatever was necessary to avoid him. “I made a habit of forgetting men who live in their parents’ basements.”

“He’s saving up to buy a house on the shore,” Nora snapped, a surge of briny wind tangling her hair as she stormed into the yard. 

“Impressive.” Bloom smiled—how quickly the tides changed. “I have to admit I’m glad to see you, Nora.” She waited for Nora’s brow to lift in confusion, making it even more delicious when she purred, “Ever since I left New York I haven’t been getting my usual fill of stuck-up wretches.”

A blitz of rage, and then a pleased expression, something sliding into place as she cooed, “I heard about your grandmother.” Bloom went still. “Another Dyer woman meets a gruesome end.” She ran a perfectly manicured hand along her collarbone, toying with the string of pearls around her neck. “One less witch in this town to worry about.”

There was a roaring in Bloom’s ears, then a coiling, white-hot fury that sent her barreling forward, snarling, “Watch your mouth!” 

Like all old things, Hollows Cove had its share of folklore: sirens dragging sailors from the docks. Fairies stealing children from their beds. Among them were the Dyer witches, who, according to lore, had opened a portal to another world, letting all those terrible creatures in. Nora’s mother had forbidden their friendship because of it, convincing other parents to do the same. 

“If you so much as breathe another word about Fiona, I swear to God, I’ll—” 

“God?” Nora interrupted with a theatrical, sickly sweet confusion. “I thought witches swore to Satan.”
Charging forward, Bloom’s hands balled into fists. She was going to hit this bitch right in her snotty little—

“Enough,” an older, feminine voice cried. Mrs. Turner burst onto the porch, clutching that cherry-red door in a white-knuckle grip. “Nora, come here right this instant.” 

Nora rolled her eyes but turned, aiming for her mother’s side. Mrs. Turner never once took her eyes off Bloom, her cashmere-covered chest rising and falling in erratic breaths. 

Shoving her daughter behind her, she stuttered meekly, “We don’t want any trouble.” 

Bloom huffed a laugh. Don’t want any trouble? 
Because of Mrs. Turner, Bloom had walked the halls of Hollows Cove Elementary with her head held high—if only to avoid her classmates’ hateful gazes. Because of Mrs. Turner, she’d had no choice but to tuck away her fear while facing down schoolyard monsters that had breathed gossip like fire. They’d been armed to the teeth with crayon claws and pencil-lead fangs, so she had armed herself too, wielding an iron-clad face as a shield and shooting barbed words like arrows. Yet somehow, after raising an entire army of housewives and schoolchildren against her, Mrs. Turner had the audacity to claim that she didn’t want any trouble?

Just as she’d done for the past fifteen years, Bloom lifted her chin. “Maybe you should tell that to your daughter,” she ordered sternly, letting every ounce of kerosene-hatred fuel the fire in her eyes. “I’m afraid you’re on vastly different pages.”

Mrs. Turner gasped, shoving Nora inside and slamming the door behind them. 

It wasn’t long before Bloom was moving, eager to put as much distance between herself and that cherry-red door as possible. But even as she staggered through the empty streets, she could still feel Nora’s eyes on her back, could still hear the inescapable bite of her posse’s laughter. 

Hello friends,
I am a first time author looking for beta readers. My novel is mostly polished but I would like an outside opinion.
Of gods and roses is a story about Orien and isadora and the cost of choosing personal satisfaction over duty and the consequences of greed. It is the first in a five book series. I am willing to do a swap. Feel free to dm me if you are interested.

For 600 years, Orien — God of Gifts and Tides — has watched mortals in silence. He has seen kingdoms rise and fall, and found none of it as fascinating as them.
Until Isadora Firenze.
Twenty-six, grieving, and buried in debt after her father's death, Isadora runs Wildwood Blooms in the icy city of Frosthold. She can't afford to be kind ,but she is anyway. She tucks a bruised violet into a penniless boy's coat. She remakes dead carnations for a stranger's funeral and refuses payment. She gives as if it costs her nothing, even when it costs her everything.
That's why the gods choose her.
The Goddess of Blooms is dead, killed by the Harrow, and the balance must be restored. Isadora is chosen as a candidate for divinity. But she cannot ascend without a trial, and she cannot face that trial without a guide.
So Orien comes down.
He trades his divinity for a borrowed coat, a fake name — Niles Lemont — and a job at a dockside bar. His orders are simple: be boring, don't use your power, don't fall in love.

Salt and Smoke is an open-door, adult romantic fantasy and as such I am only looking for betas aged 18+.

If you enjoy morally grey FMCs, found family, forced proximity, reluctant allies to lovers, and mixed media elements, this might be a good fit for you.

Blurb: Rosa has spent fifteen years plotting to kill the man who took everything from her. On the night she intends to make it happen, the wrong man walks through the door.
Fyn is a complication she didn’t ask for, and she should probably have killed him when she had the chance. Instead, a forced escape throws them into an uneasy alliance through secret tunnels and pirate bays, and Rosa comes to realise that there’s far more to Fyn than she first suspected.
In New Alveris, a gaslit, smog-choked industrial port where magic is banned, fey are persecuted, and airships, factories and street-drugs are all powered by the same shadowy source, Rosa’s masks start to fracture and the secretive Guild she once served turns against her.
Fyn might be the one person she can trust… which could be a problem.
Rosa still has a few secrets of her own.
If Fyn discovers them, it won’t just be Rosa that suffers; he’ll destroy everything she’s built to protect, and this time, Rosa won’t get to decide who survives.

The novel is intended as the first in a series but also works as a standalone. No cliffhangers.

Trigger warnings: Violence, off page death of children, fey persecution/public executions/burning (parallels to historical witch trials), bereavement, fire, animal threat/harm (not on page or graphic/gratuitous), themes of grief and survivor guilt, self-destructive tendencies (FMC).

What I’m looking for: this has been through early beta/alpha readers and a critique group so I’m mostly looking for reader response, any bits you were tempted to skim/dnf etc.

Timeline: Hoping to have feedback within a month.

Swaps: I have a few spaces open for swaps if you have something in a similar genre/length.

I can send the first few chapters so you can see if it’s a fit before committing.

Drop a reply or DM if interested. Thanks!

Word Count: 124,037
Status: Complete
Chapters: 35
Series: Book One of a planned trilogy

Premise

An orphaned farm worker falls in love with a British princess while mysterious forces tied to his forgotten past begin to resurface, leading him toward a truth that may redefine his identity—and possibly alter the fate of the world.

Genres

• Science Fiction
• Mystery
• Adventure
• Romance
• Coming‑of‑Age

Story Elements

• Character‑driven narrative
• Interpersonal relationships
• Secrets and worldbuilding
• Identity, resilience, destiny
• Emotional development and high‑stakes conflict

Feedback Areas

• Pacing
• Characters and relationships
• Worldbuilding
• Plot cohesion
• Dialogue
• Confusing or underdeveloped elements
• Overall reading experience and interest in continuing to Book Two

Additional Information

This manuscript is fully drafted and currently undergoing revision.
Total length: 35 chapters, ~124k words.
Book One of a planned trilogy.

If interested, feel free to comment or send a message.

[Complete] [64233] [Fantasy] The Legend of Kali Part 1

I'm looking for a few beta readers for my completed novel, The Legend of Kali – Part 1.

It's an Indian mythological fantasy with elements of dark fantasy, supernatural mystery, adventure, and science fiction.

Length: 64,233 words

Premise:
Abhimanyu Acharya, a teenager from Jodhpur, has grown up surrounded by strange rules and unexplained secrets. When he discovers a mysterious "AVATARA" marking connected to his father's handwriting, he begins uncovering a hidden reality tied to his family, ancient forces, the Kali Yuga, and something far more dangerous.

The story includes Jodhpur, Kuldhara, ancient guardians, hidden pathways, Indian mythology, supernatural forces, and a larger mystery that develops throughout the book.

I'm looking for honest reader feedback, particularly on:

• Plot and pacing
• Abhimanyu's character development
• Characters and relationships
• Worldbuilding and mythology
• Mystery and suspense
• Dialogue
• Emotional impact
• Confusing or slow sections
• Overall readability
• Whether the ending makes you want to read Part 2

You don't need to be a professional editor. I'm especially interested in genuine reactions from people who regularly read fantasy, mythology, supernatural fiction, or YA.

The manuscript is complete and available as a PDF.

If you're interested, please DM me. I'll send the manuscript and a short feedback questionnaire.

I'm looking for honest criticism, not just positive feedback. If something doesn't work, I'd genuinely like to know.

Fantasy, Indian Mythology, Mythological Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, YA Fantasy, Supernatural, Mystery, Adventure, Science Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Kali Yuga, Ancient Mysteries, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal

Hi friends!

I’m looking for feedback for my complete manuscript of READY?—the first of a four part series about a found family that lives altogether in a Boston brownstone.

Charlotte thought she lost everything when she found the video of her best friend screwing her boyfriend. With no home, no family, no future (her boyfriend’s mom was her agent), she’s forced to crash with her guy best friend and his three hockey roommates. To salvage what’s left of her career, she has to write an incredible song for her winter showcase which hopefully will be her ticket out of there.

Julian Langley was totally fine not getting drafted three years in a row. He was going to finish out his senior year with his team and have the best year Royale U has ever seen. But after his season takes a turn for the worst, the NHL is knocking on his door. Oh, plus his estranged mother has decided she wanted back into his life.

For those who love the found family of New Girl plus the college atmosphere of Off Campus.

Vibes:
- found family
- college sports
- open door spice
- mama trauma
- medicated anxiety
- pop culture references

Looking for:
- fat to cut
- opinions on pacing/character/motivations
- if jokes are landing

Open to manuscript swaps! I don’t do horror tho lmao, thank you in advance for your time. Looking for a 4 week turn around time.

Desire, Unbidden is an adult dark academia romance about a young woman starting over after the sudden loss of her mother at an old university in Ireland, drawn there partly by the life her mother once had in the country.

She falls in with an eclectic group of friends, gets pulled into secret literary gatherings, and earns a place in a prestigious academic competition that places her under the mentorship of a professor she immediately finds herself at odds with – and cannot seem to stay away from.

It’s a slow-burn, character-driven story about academic rivalry, friendship, grief, ambition, morally complicated characters, and plenty of tension.

Amy likes things a certain way.

She likes being early. She likes having a plan. She likes knowing exactly where she is going next. Unfortunately, life is not particularly interested in cooperating with her.

Between a job that’s starting to wear her down and a manuscript she’s been struggling to finish, Amy could use a change of pace. So she decides to hop on a train, hoping that a long-winded journey might be the exact inspiration her dud of a novel needs.
What she doesn’t expect is to meet three strangers along the way who have a very different idea of what this trip is supposed to look like.

There are new places to see, trains to catch, food to try, and plenty of opportunities for things to go horribly wrong.

For Amy, who has spent most of her life trying to keep everything on track, this is going to be a problem.

Or… it might be exactly what she needs.

—

Excerpt

—

By late morning, the lounge car drifted into its usual haze of half-interest and comfort. There was that guy in the corner, hunched over the crossword puzzle like the fate of the world depended on 17 Down. A couple of folks were curled up with books, pretending to read, feet tucked under them. 

Daniel leaned way back in his chair, stretched so far the whole thing creaked, and let out a big dramatic sigh. "I’m bored."

Andrea lifted her eyes just over the top of her paperback. She’d been pretending to read the same page for ten minutes. "You’ve been unoccupied for, what, forty seconds?"

"Forty-three. I timed it," Daniel replied, almost proud.

"Of course you did," Andrea said, not even missing a beat.

Milagros, as always, folding her hands in her lap, offered, "We could play chess."

Andrea was fast. "No."

"Why not?" Daniel threw her a wounded look, as if she’d just refused him a kidney.

"You cheat," Andrea replied, giving him that lopsided grin.

"I do not," Daniel insisted, as though he was above such things.

"You absolutely do," she pressed.

He pointed at her like a kid on the playground. "I reinterpret the rules."

"You moved your bishop backward last time!" Andrea said, exasperated.

"It was expressing itself," Daniel defended.

"Bishops don’t express themselves," she deadpanned.

"They do in my version."

Andrea turned to Amy with a patient sigh. "You see what I deal with?"

Amy brought her coffee to her lips and smiled. "I haven’t known him very long, but I already believe both of you."

Daniel crossed his arms and tried to appear injured. "Fine, no chess."

A beat, then he straightened with a bored kid restlessness.

"Never Have I Ever."

Andrea groaned. "How old are we, exactly?"

"Young enough to still embarrass ourselves. Or old enough not to care." Daniel’s grin was all mischief.

"I can embarrass myself without a game."

"See? That’s exactly why we should play," he said.

Milagros gave a small, curious nod. "I have never played."

Daniel's eyes lit up. "Perfect. Fresh blood!"

Amy almost snorted coffee out her nose. "I don’t think that’s the phrase you want."

Daniel just waved her off and somehow, maybe just to avoid actual boredom, they all caved. Thirty seconds later, Daniel was already raring to go.

"I’ll start," he declared. "Never have I ever broken a bone."

Hands shot up. Amy looked around, suddenly outnumbered.

"Okay, what happened to you guys?" she said, eyebrows raised.

Andrea lifted two fingers. "Softball."

Milagros said simply, "Goat."

Daniel blinked. "I’m sorry?"

"He won," Milagros said, expression solemn.

"The…goat?"

"Yes."

Andrea nodded as if that covered anything that needed covering. "I don’t even know why I asked."

Amy turned back to Daniel. "You?"

"I’ve never broken anything."

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Emotionally?"

"Constantly."

Amy snorted. The mood already felt lighter.

Andrea tapped the table, her turn. "Never have I ever eaten an entire cake by myself."

Daniel raised his hand, immediately. So did Milagros.

Amy looked genuinely disturbed. "A whole cake?"

Daniel blinked. "You’ve never done that?"

"No!" Amy said, laughing.

"You should."

"I don’t think I should."

"It builds character," he said with an air of authority.

"It builds diabetes," Amy shot back.

Daniel gave it a moment’s thought. "It can do both, honestly."

Andrea shook her head. "Unbelievable. The two oldest people here enabling the worst decisions."

Milagros smiled, a little wicked. "We’ve had lots of practice."

Daniel leaned forward again, hands folded like he was interviewing them for a job.

"Never have I ever learned to tie my shoes."

Everyone froze. Nobody moved. Daniel just waited, eyes drifting from one face to the next.

Amy finally broke the silence. "…What?"

"You’ve never learned to tie your shoes?" Andrea looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

Daniel shrugged, not the least bit ashamed. "Nope."

She squinted, skeptical. "You’re joking."

"I wish I were."

"Come on," she said, "explain this."

"My mother bought me Velcro shoes," Daniel said, matter-of-fact.

"When you were five?"

"Yes." He smiled. That was his answer.

"And?"

"And I got attached to Velcro," he said sincerely.

Amy had to put down her mug, she was laughing so much. Andrea looked down at his shoes.

"But what about dress shoes?"

"Loafers."

"Hiking boots?"

"Slip-ons."

"Boots with laces?"

"I don’t buy boots with laces. Problem solved."

Andrea looked unsettled, as if Daniel’s entire existence now made slightly less sense. "You’ve made it fifty-two years without tying your shoes."

Daniel looked smug. "It’s going pretty well."

Milagros, always ready with a wild story, lifted a finger. "I once knew a man who refused to wear pants."

The table went dead silent. Daniel’s eyes narrowed. "Seriously?"

"He believed knees deserved freedom," Milagros replied.

Nobody quite knew what to do with that, so Andrea spoke for all of them. "I… genuinely don’t know what to do with that information."

Amy just shrugged. "You don’t have to do anything."

Daniel nodded with strange respect. "I admire commitment in a person."

Andrea cut in. "You admire everyone."

"I don’t admire people who clap when the plane lands," he quickly countered.

She grinned. "Now we see the bar."

Milagros tilted her head. "What if the landing’s really impressive?"

Daniel started to respond, hesitated, and then abandoned the argument altogether. Amy beamed. "You found his limit!"

Daniel pouted. "I don’t like that you’re all enjoying this."

"You started it," Andrea reminded him.

He grinned. "And I regret nothing."

Amy shook her head, half in awe. "I don’t know how you’ve made it this far in life."

Daniel leaned back, comfortable in his own skin. "Adaptability."

Andrea raised a brow. "Laziness."

He nodded in confirmation. "Resourcefulness."

She shot back, "Laziness, but it’s wearing a mustache disguise."

He shrugged. "Judging me again?"

"I absolutely am."

He took a sip of coffee. "I’ve made my peace with that."

Amy studied him a moment. "Were you always this way?"

Daniel didn’t miss a beat. "My mother would definitely say yes."

Andrea burst out laughing. "Instant answer?"

"Because it’s true," he said, smiling at the memory. "My teachers would separate me and my friends every September."

Amy frowned, curious. "Why September?"

"They wanted to start the year with hope."

Andrea laughed. "Did it work?"

"Maybe for a week. Then they realized I could talk to anyone."

He shrugged. "Eventually they moved me again."

Amy gave him a teasing grin. "You were that kid who wouldn’t stop talking?"

He nodded, grinning. "I still am. Same report card comments every year: Daniel is a delight, but perhaps he could let someone else answer a question once in a while."

Andrea pointed. "That’s word-for-word, isn’t it?"

"Mostly. And sometimes: Daniel is very enthusiastic, but climbing the bookshelf is not an acceptable way to retrieve a library book."

Amy’s mouth dropped. "You climbed a bookshelf?"

He shrugged. "Felt faster at the time."

"It was not," Andrea said.

He grinned. "Didn’t stop me."

Milagros smiled softly. "You remind me of my brother. He climbed on the roof once. Wanted to know if birds were happier than people."

Daniel’s eyes widened. "What’d he decide?"

"He said yes."

Daniel nodded. "Understandable."

Amy looked over. "So, were you ever… embarrassed?"

Daniel laughed. "Constantly. Why? I got picked on in middle school."

Andrea softened, genuine this time. "For what?"

He started counting off. "Talking too much. Being too excitable. Waving at strangers."

Amy looked concerned. "You got bullied for waving?"

He spread his hands. "Apparently, that was the fastest way to be uncool."

Andrea snorted. "Yeah. I believe that."

"They called me weird," he said, not bothered at all.

"Would you call yourself that?"

"I was! Still am, actually."

Amy watched him closely, almost expecting him to wince. But he just sipped his coffee, perfectly content.

"So what happened?"

"They just…got bored."

"Of bullying you?"

"No," he said, smiling. "Of trying to embarrass me. My life already did that for them."

Everyone dissolved into laughter. Andrea had to wipe her eyes.

"You know," she said between giggles, "that’s a great defense mechanism."

He shrugged, relaxed. "I figure if you can laugh first, they can’t really get to you."

After a stretch of silence, Amy asked, "What were your parents like?"

Daniel tipped his head back, letting the question settle. He put his elbows on the table.

"My dad was quiet. One of those people who could fix anything. If something broke, he’d go to the garage for an hour, come back all triumphant, like he’d just performed open-heart surgery on a toaster or a blender."

Andrea nodded, already picturing it.

"My mom could talk enough for both of them," he said, the edges of his mouth turning up.

"Where you got it from," Andrea smiled.

"Exactly. She taught piano. Tried to teach me, but my teacher eventually encouraged me “politely” to choose a different hobby."

"Brutal," Andrea said, trying not to laugh.

Daniel smiled at the memory. "It’s okay. My mom never gave up, though. Sunday afternoons, she’d pull out sheet music and try, every time."

Willing to swap beta reading if there’s anything you would love read as well!

*Anyone who contributes will receive a signed published copy from me <3 *

---

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Hello potential beta-readers!

My name is Ty (she/they) with the pen name C.M. Legend and I have currently finished my fourth edit of the first part of a steampunk fantasy epic series called Skylance. What first started as a gargantuan manuscript of 300,000 words has, over the course of five years, been condensed considerably into a more cohesive and fun story.

---

The Setting:

The story takes place on the world of Azurus, an ocean world with over 90% of its surface covered by water. Over many centuries humans, dwarves, elves, pannei(a unique race to this story), and others have vied for what limited land exists while trying to avoid the hostile waters inhabited by the terrifying abyssals. These challenges helped foster an insatiable desire for technological innovation leading to dizzying mile-high cities and great airships.

Not only is ingenuity a cherished resource, but three of the prominent peoples possess predominantly unique abilities that have been essential to their survival and prominence: humans with the skill of foresight, elves with their manipulation of electro-magnetism, and dwarves able to bend and shape any material by force of will and imagination.

By the time of the Skylance series, the world had been recovering from a devastating world war between the human dominion of Bastonia and the Union alliance comprised of the elven kingdoms of Eldora and the dwarf clans of Bornska Tor. Relations between these great realms remains strained, with peace always on the precipice.

The pannei people, on the other hand, have remained relatively aloof and distant from the rest of the world. A superstitious and nomadic race inhabiting the small desert realm of Pannar, they shun technological advancements and regard the unique powers of the other three races as curses. However, they are known throughout Azurus for their unique pilgrimage, a rite of passage of every coming-of-age pannei to visit the three realms of the world on their own. Despite this seemingly paradoxical practice, it is the pannei people’s hope that their relative isolation keeps the problems of the world from their doorstep.

---

The Story:

The story follows the pilgrimage of a young pannei woman named Y’nari who has been plagued by premonitions and visions beyond her control. Fearing she may possess the human curse of foresight, she begins her journey by seeking out the Fate Ministry for answers. Unfortunately for Y’nari, her rite of passage quickly devolves into a nightmare of racial prejudice, murder, and political intrigue no one could have predicted.

While imprisoned for crimes of heresy, Y’nari realizes her visions are a terrifying precursor to a greater conflict that threatens to throw the world into a devastating world war. With the unexpected help of sky pirates led by the infamous Captain Steelie Green, Y’nari hopes not only to find answers to her visions, but stop the world’s great powers from mutually assured destruction. Join Y’nari in an exciting adventure full of technological wonder, supernatural struggle, unexpected romance, and friendships along the way!

---

Themes:

Steampunk, Adventure, Fantasy, LGBTIA+, Magic, Piracy, Archeology, Political Intrigue, Hero’s Journey, Coming of Age

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Triggers:

Racism, blood, death, torture, injury, mature language, sexual themes, sexual assault, gambling, alcohol, drugs

---

What I’m Looking For:

Beta readers willing to give their overall opinions and experiences. I’m not expecting a nitty-gritty list of every small detail, but more a holistic view of the story as a whole. Questions you could answer could include:

• Did the story have moments of dragging and losing interest? A sagging middle?
• What parts kept you interested in continuing?
• Any unnecessary characters, scenes or chapters?
• Information you found crucial but missing?
• Characterization missteps?

---

Timeframe:

I would love to receive feedback within a month or two at the latest.

Eleanor Jett was twelve when her family was slaughtered and their house erased from the kingdom's territories. Now twenty, she lives under a false name in the starving North, running heists with a small crew led by Arlo Finch, a thief with clever plans and ambition that refuses to stay buried. When a routine mission uncovers a conspiracy about the reality of the famine, they are forced to choose. Is the truth more important than survival?
In the capital, revolution festers in the sewers. A fire mage named Samuel spends his afternoons teaching nobles how to use a sword, and his nights killing for a masked prophet who speaks of liberation. He must decide how many innocents he's willing to burn for a cause he believes in. The answer changes every night.

After a developmental pass on my first draft, I'm looking for beta readers who can help me polish my story before I start querying. At this point in the draft, my story is basically finalized, so what I really need help with is prose, character interiority, and pacing of events. I don't have a specific timeline in mind, so feel free to read at your pace. I am okay with doing swaps, but I would prefer a standard beta reader. This is my second time working with beta readers on this project. Last time, I received a tremendous amount of help, and I hope to have the same success in this final run. Thank you for reading; feel free to reach out and DM me.

Hi, I’m looking for readers for my sci-fi novella, EPILOGUE.

I’d appreciate feedback.

Please DM me if interested. I’m hoping for feedback in 3–4 weeks and am open to a critique swap.

Hi! I’m looking for beta readers for the first six chapters of a YA fantasy novel I’m currently working on.

The story follows Raina Crawford, a fifteen-year-old girl who discovers that the occult rituals she’s been trying from the internet may actually work. After her father’s death, she moves from New York to rural Oregon to live with his old friends and their daughter, Ivy. Not long after arriving, Raina learns that her parents belonged to a hidden magical society—and that she may be a witch herself.

What I’m most interested in is honest reader reaction: whether the characters feel engaging and believable, whether the pacing works, whether the magical world feels interesting, and most importantly, whether you’d genuinely want to keep reading etc

If you’re interested, feel free to comment or DM me. I can send the chapters.