Chapters (32)
- Hunger for You
- Praise for Jenny Frame
- By the Author
- Acknowledgments
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- About the Author
- Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Amelia felt the blood drain from her body and she sank to her knees. Her heart felt like it was being crushed and she could hardly breathe. Tears tumbled onto the paper as she read the rest.
I thought it best for us to make our parting as quick and painless as possible. Early this morning Sera, I, and the rest of my household decamped to my New York residence. You will find a first class plane ticket home with this letter.
I hope you will one day realize that this was for the best, and make a life of your own. I will always remember you fondly, Miss Honey, my shining girl.
Byron
Amelia ripped the letter into pieces in a frenzy and collapsed onto the floor, her heart painfully breaking.
“I love you! How could you do this?”
Amelia convulsed in tears, while hugging herself tightly. Byron’s letter felt like she had ripped Amelia’s heart out with her bare hands, and crushed it before her eyes.
The bottom had dropped out of her world, and she had no idea how she could go on.
Chapter Eleven
London
Six months later
Amelia finished dressing and sat at her dressing table to put on her make-up. It was the last thing she wanted to do at six thirty on a Monday morning, but she had to at least make an effort to look her best at work. The things she always took pleasure in—fashion, make-up, and looking good—held little appeal any more.
She gazed out her bedroom window and saw grey skies and the rain bouncing off the window. Perfect.
The weather could have been a metaphor for her life. Miserable, grey, and depressing. This morning gave Amelia even more reason to feel depressed. Six months ago this very day, Byron, the love of her life, unceremoniously dumped her and sent her on the first plane home.
For what seemed like the billionth time, she felt tears filling her eyes. “No, don’t do this again.”
She was sick of feeling sad, unloved, not good enough, all the things that her break-up with Byron had caused her to feel.
Amelia tried to remember the advice her Uncle Simon gave her: When you’re in pain, put on your sexiest shade of lipstick, smile your best smile, and show the world it can’t keep you down.
She wanted more than anything to move on and get rid of this pain, but it seemed impossible. Amelia started to put on her make-up as quickly as possible. She picked up her powder case and dabbed her face, but then her eyes were drawn to her neck. She let out a sigh.
“Will this bloody thing ever heal?”
The nip Byron had given her on her neck the last few times they made love never seemed to clear up. It remained red and raised and the two pinprick wounds that she had never quite understood refused to heal.