The Texan's Second Chance. Allie Pleiter

this weekend just to avoid this kind of thing. She sank down onto the truck floor with her back against the counter. The coffee beside her tasted sharp and sour where five minutes ago she’d found the blend particularly smooth.

      She scrolled through the other comments from Dave’s followers, several of whom had visited the truck during its weekend operations. There were compliments scattered among the responses from people who disagreed with his assessment. And Dave didn’t hate everything—he thought the coleslaw was particularly well-done. She noted, with an extra-sharp sense of annoyance, that he found the slider trio “a near miss.” Witt would surely note that the most positive comment about a burger was given to the sliders. Her own creations? They hadn’t fared nearly as well. The “I’m all alone here” feeling that had been fading now roared right back up with this setback.

      Jana told herself to put the phone down, to stop hurting her heart by scrolling and re-scrolling across the article as if she were grabbing a hot pan over and over. It’s one person’s opinion, she told herself. Yeah, one person who has an audience of—she made herself scroll down to where the blog’s fifteen-thousand-member following was listed—too many.

      They’d done a bustling business their first official weekend, and there had been plenty of positive comments from satisfied customers on various restaurant review sites. Until this morning, Jana had felt she was riding on a wave of success.