I have three months to write my last book. Three months to confess the details of that day, and how it changed everything for me.
My name is Helena Ross. I’ve written fifteen romance novels, ten of which have become international bestsellers. But this one isn't a romance, no Happily Ever After in place. This novel holds only the truth, which I have run away from for four years. The truth, which I have hidden from the police, from my loved ones, from the world.
This final book?
It's my confession.
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I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I let them know. They don’t need to know a name; they don’t need to know anything, but that they are not alone in my heart.