Six friends destined for greatness.
Two lovers in denial.
One captivating story sure to break hearts.
Are you read to meet the ROGUES?
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Devoured By You Chapter 1
Jill
Handsomeandastute. What are the chances?
Success was a strange phenomenon.
Ambitious people, like me, strived to reach the mountain summit, slipping and sliding and falling on the way to the top. Sometimes we ended up with a bloody nose, or a bruised ego, but we picked ourselves up and carried on, not because we wanted to, but because wehadto.
For so long, I’d lived with this rabid need to make it to the pinnacle of my career, certain that when I achieved a goal I’d had since I was six years old, happiness would be there, waiting for me, arms outstretched. The proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Instead, imposter syndrome became my new best friend. And until I discovered a way to beat that fucker, I had this awful feeling that I’d remain stuck with the worst writer’s blockever.Hitting number one on theNew York Timesand theSunday Timesbestseller lists was simultaneously a dream come true and my worst nightmare. I’d set a bar, yet a singular thought whirred inside my mind.
What if I’m a one-hit wonder and everything that comes afterward sucks?
I pushed the depressing notion to the back of my mind and boarded the plane for a much-needed holiday with three of the best friends a girl could wish for. I refused to let this crippling doubt stop me from enjoying this break. I needed it. Badly.
Before I hit burnout.
An author friend of mine had slammed into that wall a few months ago. She still hadn’t recovered. I didn’t want to end up like her, exhausted and unable to type a single word. It was for this reason I’d agreed to the trip. My best friends had gotten together, like the three witches of Eastwick, and staged an intervention.
And here I was, turning left on the plane for the very first time. I’d earned a treat, and a first-class ticket from London to Miami was my chosen gift.
My jaw hung open as I copped a first look at the exclusive cabin. Wow. Talk about luxurious. A steward, smartly dressed in a navy uniform and a blue-and-gold tie, showed me to my seat.I mean, I could have found it.There were only fifteen in total.All part of the service, I guess.But when he asked me what time I’d like to book the first-class bathroom—equipped with a proper shower, no less—I gaped.
“Um, I’m not sure. Just…” I motioned with my hand. “Whenever.”
“As you wish, Miss Rowe.”
I made myself comfortable in the middle seat—I’d rather not be beside the window—and accepted a glass of crisp champagne from a different member of the cabin crew. A woman took the seat to my right. I smiled at her. She responded with the coldest stare. Okay, people in first class weren’t the talkative kind. Got it.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as much fun as I’d thought. That shower, though. I’d have to do that, if only for bragging rights with my friends.
I dipped into my carry-on bag for my latest novel. I read the first line and sighed. Dreadful.You can do better than this, Jill.Could I, though? If I was capable of better, then why hadn’t Idonebetter? For six months, I’d worked on this manuscript, and it was still a big steaming pile of crap.
“No good?”
The silky smooth American accent came from seat 1A on my left. I turned to answer, a cordial smile in place.
Ohhhh.