Into the Rage

Chapter 1

(Picture of Amethyst Langston)

I studied my features in the scrolled mirror of my loft apartment bathroom, sucking in my cheeks, making them hollow, then letting them out normally again.

I had smooth, creamy skin, not a wrinkle in sight, pretty great for someone who had just turned thirty and the best part was, I didn't feel my age.

I was getting ready to head into my office, in the heart of downtown Boston, 49th floor of the Arcady building; a huge office and the entire floor belonged to me.

I employed my agent, a receptionist, my accountant, my personal assistant and her personal assistant, we all worked out of that building and they had been with me since the beginning.

I was a romance novelist and despite my book making the New York Times Best Sellers list and a lucrative book signing deal, my love life was nonexistent, actually it sucked.

I could write about it all day long, the lovey dovey characters, the sex scenes and how much the main actors loved each other.

But having this for myself was laughable. Firstly, I didn't know if I could trust anyone like that and secondly, I was petrified of being with a man, any man.

I knew why but I was never willing to discuss it, only with my therapist and those chosen few that were closest to me , because it was just too painful and dredged up too many bad memories.

I was pretty, I guess, as far as the outside went but on the inside? I was a screwed up individual; between my heart and mental health, yeah screwed up was putting it mildly.

I stood six feet tall, had long, silky black hair and blue eyes. My body was pretty athletic while maintaining the feminine curves that drove most men crazy.

I proudly sported a full C cup and had a nice round ass, just the right size, a perfect handful. My lips were pretty and full, my most attractive feature I was told.

I had the tattoo of a butterfly on my left shoulder and a tattoo of the sun on the inside of my right ankle, plus my belly button is pierced.