Thank you to my phenomenal editor, Kerry Donovan. Your support, insight, and guidance have meant the world to me. Also thank you to Tara O’Connor, Dache Rogers, Bridget O’Toole, Natalie Sellars, Mary Geren, and the rest of the Berkley and Penguin Random House team for bringing this novel to life.
Robert Fulghum said, “We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.” Thank you to all my weird friends, especially two of you. Bethany, who was my first friend in college, has been my best friend for decades, and will be my sister always. Thank you for always cheering, always reading, and always joining me in ordering dessert, even though you never finish it. Finally, I’m the taller one. It’s in print now. I win.
Allison Ashley—you’re stuck with me for life. You are my go-to critique partner and I am forever in your debt for the advice, brainstorming, countless reads, unwavering support, and late-night humor. I trust you implicitly with my first ugly drafts and can’t imagine being on this journey to publishing with anyone else. You’re my person.
Robin Ridenour, you taught me to be a better writer. I have appreciated your humor, kindness, encouragement, attention to detail, and storytelling. Thank you also to Kat, Alex, Ron, and everyone at Scribophile who helped me improve. TeamCarly, the best writing group around, has been a constant source of support and encouragement. Thank you to Katie, Haley, Emily, Brian, Tera, Jenn, Ann, Pat, Tara, Sheri, Nicole, Michelle, Crystal, Maggie, Jessi, Susan, Kristine, Kathi, Mitzi, Racheal, Nadine, Salem, Joyce, Som, Alissa, and all the other friends who agreed to be early readers and shared their time and suggestions.
Penny and Greta slept at my feet during every step of this book’s creation, from those first stumbling paragraphs through final edits. Thank you to the best and the worst dog in the world for keeping me company. You’ve both earned treats.
Continue reading for a special preview of
THE FASTEST WAY TO FALL
by Denise Williams, coming in Fall 2021!
Britta
I hustled down the hall, late and waterlogged. It would rain today of all days.
With a graceless slip on the slick tile of the conference room, my umbrella sprayed water into the air and I hit the floor with a surprised cry. My skirt rode up my thighs as the box of donuts skidded across the polished wood floor, coming to rest by my boss’s Louboutins. Around me, conversation stopped, and I lingered in a cocoon of awkward silence.
Normally the box was empty and stuffed in the trash before our boss arrived, already full from her kale smoothie or whatever Paleo-adjacent, keto-friendly organic breakfast food was trending. Everyone would enjoy the treat and I’d maintain my status as popular coworker, but the rain had other plans for my reputation and dignity that morning. Maricela’s manicured fingers slipped under the table to pick up the pink box.
“Britta, you made it.” Claire’s sickly sweet voice broke the silence, and a chuckle went around the conference table. She sat back in smug satisfaction.
That’s what I told myself, anyway. From the spot on the floor next to my dripping umbrella, I couldn’t see anything except her impossibly high heels. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how good their traction was and if she might have her own run-in with the slippery floor.
“I like to make an entrance,” I mumbled, clambering to my hands and knees before trying to stand without flashing the entire staff of Best Life, the millennial-focused lifestyle website where I’d worked as an editorial assistant for four years.
“Britta, are you okay?” Maricela Dominguez-Van Eiken looked like a person who’d run a lifestyle empire. Back straight, dark hair curled and cascading, a perfectly organized planner settled perpendicular to the newest iPhone and a rose gold water bottle. She’d built Best Life from the ground and turned it into a lucrative, trendsetting company designed to help people live well. Kale smoothies aside, she had impeccable taste and just seemed to have her life together. What’s that like?
I rubbed my knee and rotated the wrist I’d landed on, catching Claire’s smirk from across the room. Just a little mortified. “I’m okay. Sorry I’m late.”
She nodded and passed the box of donuts to the person on her left. It began a slow rotation around the room, pair after pair of hungry eyes lingering on the treats as my colleagues waved their hands to pass. No one would take one after she demurred.
“It’s February first.” She tapped her index finger to her collar—her impress me gesture. At the beginning of each month, Maricela sought new ideas from the entire team. After four years, I needed to stand out. I was a good writer, but I’d never gotten the chance to flex those skills for Best Life. I wondered if I might be able to contribute more to the world than recommendations for face creams or the inside scoop on whether escape rooms were over.