What's the Worst That Could Happen?

A reality TV romance gone completely off-script

Ariana never wanted the spotlight—especially not after a year filled with professional dead-ends, a messy breakup, and constant comparisons to her famous mother. But when a chance to appear on a hit reality dating show becomes her only path to career advancement, she reluctantly says yes, promising herself she’ll keep it light, keep it distant, and definitely keep her heart out of it.

Then she meets Harry. Genuine, grounded, and far too charming, he's the one person who seems to see through the polished TV version of Ariana. But reality TV doesn’t care about real connections—and soon Ariana is recast as the season’s villain, caught in an edited narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. With her reputation in shreds and Harry walking away just when she needs him most, Ariana is left with one decision: stay silent or take back her story.

Sharp, funny, and full of heart, this is a love story about choosing honesty over optics, and learning to be seen—on camera and off.

Get the book and watch Ariana flip the script—on love, fame, and herself.

Excerpt from the book

Ariana scraped her long brown hair back into a ponytail as she pushed her way out of the Uber, stretching a silk scrunchie over one hand, pulling the skirt of her black pencil dress down into place with the other, swiping at a dusting of what looked like flour from her lunchtime bagel.

The early evening air was warm and heavy with humidity that indicated rain was on the way.

The driver barely looked at her in the rear-view mirror before nosing the car back into traffic. She checked her phone again.

“Finally here,” she tapped out a text message to her boyfriend, Liam, scanning the crowd of people in the courtyard of the bar in front of her. He was somewhere in there – waiting for her, as – she had to admit – was normal.

It looked as though every mid-level manager with an office job within 10km of downtown Sydney had booked their after-work debrief in the same place. A group of men around a bar leaner by the front entrance roared with laughter as she drew closer. Ariana gave herself a silent telling off when she recoiled. She had to remember that not everyone laughing in her presence was laughing at her.

She ran a quick mental checklist. Nothing had been left in the car, had it? She had her bag. Her sunglasses were tucked into the front of her dress. But where was her phone?

She rolled her eyes at herself. In her hand. She could almost hear her mother’s voice – “you’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

She was only a couple of minutes late. By her standards, basically early. Liam wouldn’t be impressed though. Somewhere over the past month or so he had shifted from sighing and giving her a kiss when she arrived late to frowning and answering her questions in monosyllables. He had bought her a planner for her birthday, which stung a bit – and didn’t actually help. It wasn’t like she was late on purpose, and his grumbles just added to her stress, rather than improving her time management. Luckily, it was a cute pink one with her name embossed on the cover. Where had she left it? She cast her mind back. Probably on her desk at work.

Ariana had to fight her way through a wall of bodies to get in the door. Men in stripy business shirts drinking identical bottles of craft beer watched as she squeezed between them.

She could make out Liam’s profile on the far side of the bar. He was staring at his phone, swiping through something.

Ariana squeezed into the spot next to him and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

He was fresh from work in a dark grey shirt that had somehow stayed crisp all day and he seemed to have recently topped up his aftershave. His gorgeous hazel eyes were fixed on the screen and he didn’t bother to lift them to look at her. “Mm.” It wasn’t that long ago that the full beam of those eyes had been on her almost any time they were together. Ariana bit her lip. Was it work stress making him so short with her?

She rested a hand on Liam’s upper arm as she tried to catch the bartender’s eye, hoping to bring him back to her. Even by Liam’s recent standards, he was being standoffish – the muscles of his arm tense under her fingers. “Drink?”

He gestured to a glass next to him. “I’m ok with water. You get whatever you want. Let’s go out the back so we can talk.”

The way he said “talk” prompted a rumble of something uncomfortable in Ariana’s stomach but she tried to keep her voice light. “I think someone’s got to order something.”

She studied him. He would usually at least order a Coke. Did he have somewhere else to be?

He shrugged. “Get what you want. I’ll see you outside.”

She watched him as he wandered towards the back door of the pub, still looking at his phone, then turned back in time to grab the attention of the bartender. A glass of wine might quieten her nerves – although a shot might take the edge off faster.