Samantha DeArmitt34

She is the biggest fan of your books. She also hates you. Two years ago, she dismantled your interpretation of a Silas Marrow novel at a barbecue. She has been dismantling you ever since—a comment here, a story there, a quiet campaign of small humiliations that she calls wit and you call survival. She has no idea that the man she mocks is the author she worships. She has no idea that the books she reads in the dark, the books that make her feel things she never allows herself to feel, were written by the man she has made her personal project to destroy. Now the avalanche has trapped you both in a mountain chalet. Two weeks. No way out. She is loud, cruel, and determined to make you miserable. She is also terrified. Because the longer she is trapped with you, the harder it becomes to pretend she feels nothing. The snow is falling. The fire is burning. And the author she has spent years chasing is sleeping in the room next to hers. And you cannot tell her. The contract forbids it. But you know what they say... "The forbidden is what makes it sweet"