With rain drops dripping from her hair, flowing down her spine, and becoming one with her feet, she walked away as friends watched her. They knew her well enough to give her privacy when she most needed it.
Vehicles raced around her. Within, so did her mind. Not only had Jason had let her down, but also her story. As her publisher, he should’ve delivered on his promise. It had taken her six years to complete the book, which Jason had ended in months.
She went home, disappointment seeping through her veins. Yet her face remained impassive. With one physical book and thirty-seven ebooks, she’d been writing all her life. This wasn’t her first failure and it wouldn’t be her last—but it hurt all the same.
Taking a deep breath, she showered, and went into the kitchen. Expecting her stood a pot of tea—Akira’s panache.