Myah Ariel's debut novel, When I Think of You, is inspired by her own past as a Hollywood assistant

Readers should get ready to be so in love with Myah Ariel and her fiction debut, When I Think of You.

Ariel's own experiences as a Hollywood assistant sparked her idea for the book, a second-chance romance between a languishing Hollywood receptionist and the hot-shot director who was once her greatest love.

When I Think of You follows Kaliya Wilson, a young woman who has spent years paying her dues behind the desk at a film studio. But a surprise reunion offers to open new doors when she reconnects with Danny Prescott, her college flame and an up-and-coming director. When he offers her a job on his next film, Kaliya knows it could be the chance to make her dreams come true — but can she risk falling for a man who already broke her heart once?

Ariel delves into the world of Hollywood scandal, boardroom politics, and more in her debut with its Janet Jackson-inspired title.

When I Think of You doesn't hit shelves until April 24, 2024, but EW has an exclusive first look at the cover and a juicy excerpt. Check out the cover below and read on for a taste of this sizzling romance.

I wonder what he thinks of what he sees, aside from a woman having a private moment with a decadent pastry. For one, I'd done the "big chop" right before college. So the short dark-chocolate colored spirals he once leisurely ran his fingers through have since become a mane of wild coils that falls to my shoulders. But more than my appearance, I wonder what he thinks seeing me here, answering the phones.

With Danny still approaching, I try and fail to discreetly chew a large chunk of my muffin. I've still not managed to swallow it when he reaches my desk and promptly exhibits a case of verbal incontinence.

"Kaliya. I want you to work with me on my next film. As my director's assistant. I mean, not my director's assistant. But rather, assistant to me. Because I'm the director. In case that wasn't clear. I direct movies now. But you probably knew that already. Or maybe you don't. S---. I don't mean to imply that you've followed my career or anything . . . " He trails off, eyes dancing haphazardly as if they might land on something to help ground him. They settle on mine.

Still chewing, I nearly choke, which he takes for an opportunity to speak again. "I don't know if you're happy with" — he makes a loose gesture with his hand — "whatever it is you're doing here. I mean, I think you aren't. I mean—" Again he stops short, perhaps thinking better of how he'd planned to finish that sentence.

For a second, my brain short-circuits in response to how blunt he's just been. And after composing myself enough to safely swallow, I bristle at the indignity of having my profession questioned by my ex. "And how would you know if I'm happy here, Danny?" I ask, sharply. "You don't know me anymore and the last thing I need is a handout from you." 

Danny eyes the muffin just as I realize I've been aggressively wielding the pastry in his direction — for punctuation purposes of course — and shakes his head. "I'm not offering you a handout, Kaliya. I'm offering you a job," he says. "I know it's been ages since we've worked together, but you can't be so different from the girl who wanted to do big things. My next project is unlike anything I've ever done, and it's a chance for you to get back in the game."

That sounds exactly like a handout to me. I look at him now in total disbelief because it's been more than a while since we worked together on The Last Song, his senior thesis film. And that's way too long for him to assume he knows anything about what might have changed for me. For starters, I've never really been in the game enough to need his help getting back into it. Not since film school at least. Still, something that feels a little bit like hope has begun to encroach on my resolve. I push it down though, beneath the knowledge that Danny Prescott is not to be trusted. Not again.

"Is your number the same?" he asks with an urgency that reminds me he didn't come here alone. That Celine is likely waiting downstairs.

I nod on instinct. Then, struck by the fact that he still has my number, I blurt, "You still have it?"

Without bothering to mask any lingering resentment he replies, "I do. Maybe you'll consider unblocking me now?"

For the briefest moment, a flash of remorse penetrates before I swat at it, deciding to unpack it later when I'm safely out of his orbit. Who knows? Maybe I deserve some of his anger. We had been something to each other all those years ago. He messed up. Big-time. But I gave him no chance to grovel or explain. At the time, icing him out completely felt like the path of least resistance toward moving on.

The phone rings again, saving me from having to answer him. I pick up and quickly transfer the call. Once I've set it down, Danny startles at the chime of a text ringing out from the pocket at his hip. He checks it and I don't miss the way his face tightens.

"I'm being summoned," he says flatly. "But you don't need to give me an answer now. I'm doing a Q and A after a screening of one of my dad's films at the School of Cinematic Arts tonight. If you can make it, I'll have a seat reserved for you and then maybe we can talk about this over coffee after?"

He pauses for a beat, probably waiting for a sign of agreement that I'm not ready to give. His shoulders sink almost imperceptibly. But he's not deterred. "I'll text you the info."

I cross my arms and look away, ignoring the sexy way his eyes wrinkle just a bit more at the corners now.

He turns to leave before I can tell him not to bother. As he nears the elevator, I look down at the muffin in my hand, momentarily wondering what he'd do if I pelted it at the back of his head.

But then I wave off the thought. After all, blueberry is my favorite.

Excerpted from WHEN I THINK OF YOU by Myah Ariel, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright ©2024 by Myah Ariel. 

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