A young book publicist finds herself in an all-consuming workplace affair with her literary idol in this “very impressive debut” (Chris Whitaker, New York Times bestselling author of All the Colors of the Dark ). “Beautifully crafted, with aftershocks of conscience that will leave you processing for hours with others who’ve read it.”—Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of By Any Other Name Sometimes the things you love most are the very things that can tear you apart. Charlie is twenty-three, single and the new publicity assistant at London’s preeminent independent book publishing house. Richard Aveling is fifty-six, married and the author who has defined his generation. Charlie has long idolized the charming, illustrious writer, who also represents a link to her late mother who loved his work. But as they embark on an illicit and all-consuming affair, Charlie is forced to hide the relationship from everyone she cares about. Too soon, she can’t imagine her life without Richard, and too late, she understands that losing him will unravel more than just their relationship—it might also unravel her . Tender and poignant, Bitter Sweet is an intimate exploration of power, of vulnerability, of what it means to love another person and what it means to love yourself. “The power dynamic between artist and consumer of art blurs in this unsettling account of a young publicist who meets her idol—a much older author. The lines of consent, control, and even reality shift. Like our main character we know this can’t end well—but we also can’t pull away from the impending implosion. This is beautifully crafted, with aftershocks of conscience that will leave you processing for hours with others who’ve read it.” —Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of By Any Other Name “ Bitter Sweet is a quietly devastating debut about desire, grief, and power imbalance.” —Bustle “Nuanced . . . Readers will be moved.” —Publishers Weekly “Beautifully written with compassion, hope, and heart . . . Bitter Sweet is a timeless tragedy, a story of the intricacies and illusions of true love, equality, and the heartbreaking disparity between what is shown to us and what we choose to see. It’s a very impressive debut.” —Chris Whitaker, New York Times bestselling author of All the Colors of the Dark “ Bitter Sweet is raw and beautiful and true. Hattie Williams writes so honestly on love and loss that it hurts. This book will make you ache for your twenties and make you equally glad you survived them.” —Abigail Dean, New York Times bestselling author of Girl A “Wondrous . . . This instant classic of a debut—as innocent and enthralling as first love; as wise and (yes) bittersweet as the hangover—recalls the likes of Caitlin Moran and Curtis Sittenfeld, but Hattie’s voice is all her own: honest, winning, breakable. What a defiant novel—you’ll devour and savor it at once, impossibly, and turn the final page having made a friend for life.” —A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window “Williams’s writing on early-twenties friendships and their enmeshed intensity was so convincing. I enjoyed it so much.” —Marian Keyes “Nuanced . . . Readers will be moved.”— Publishers Weekly Hattie Williams began pursuing a music career in her teens and toured Europe extensively, making three studio albums and working as a composer before finding her way to book publishing (quite by accident). She spent the next twelve years working with some of the biggest authors in the world, and she is the former producer of the Iceland Noir Literary Festival, which takes place in Reykjavík every November. Williams continues to feed her creativity through her writing from her home in East London, where she lives with her partner and daughter. Chapter One 2010 Richard Aveling stood to the left of me. I had been so distracted by thoughts of the man that I hadn’t even noticed him as I’d fumbled a wet thumb over the wheel of my lighter trying to get a spark to light my cigarette. I had been watching this day move closer in my calendar for months, knowing it would be the day that I would finally get to meet him. He was as tall as people said, and broader. He was older than the photos printed on the inside of the covers of his books by perhaps ten or even fifteen years. “Do you need a light?” “Yes, please,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pushed my hood back, realizing in horror that I was standing in the alleyway at the back of the Winden & Shane office in my old blue waterproof jacket and a fake leather skirt, smoking a roll-­up in front of a man who had lived inside my head for over ten years. I’d planned my outfit for today so carefully, but my heels were upstairs waiting for me under my desk. This wasn’t how I had imagined it. Not at all. “I don’t usually smoke this early in the morning.” He lit my cigarette, positioning his own between his lips as he did. O