Savage Grace
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Gripping the test in my hand, I can’t stop staring at the blue cross in the window.
Tears roll, hot and slow, down my cheeks. I huddle in a low ball, emotion bowing me. My dog, Blue, whines and presses against my side, his warm tongue laving my cheek, his musky scent enveloping me. A familiar comfort.
Will my child love Blue as I do?
My phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, and I hiccup a sob. Squeezing my eyes shut, pressing more tears free, I hold my breath. Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart throbs in my chest…a tidal wave is washing me away. I can’t do this.
The soft ping of a voicemail brings my eyes open. I’m staring at the cross again.
Blue shifts closer, leaning his warm weight against me. As tall as a Great Dane, with the elegant snout of a collie, the markings of a wolf, and mismatched eyes—one blue the other brown—Blue means the world to me.
My heart will have to make room for more.
Fear slices through me, adrenaline flooding my veins and bringing another soft whine from Blue. Standing quickly, the adrenaline demanding action, I glance at my phone.
Robert Maxim.
He can’t know. My eyes trace to the trash can of the hotel bathroom. Wrap up the test and put it in there.
But my hand won’t follow the advice. My fingers grip tighter, refusing to release the small wand of plastic. The proof. The truth.
Grabbing my phone off the counter, I step back into the hotel room. Blue stays close to my hip, his nose tapping my waist once, a gentle reminder he is there.
I shove the plastic wand into my bag, pushing it into a zipper interior pocket and closing it up. Locking it away.
Just throw it out.
I can’t.
My hand strays to my stomach, and Blue’s nose swipes against my fingers. Vision blurred with tears, I stand in the center of the hotel room, my mind reeling. Lightning sizzles across my vision, and thunder ricochets inside my mind.
I’m not cut out for motherhood.
I know I’ll survive. It’s everyone I love who dies.
That changes now.
P.S. The dog does not die.
**Beware: If you can’t handle a few f-bombs, you can’t handle this series.**
평점 및 리뷰
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I write because I love to read, but I have specific tastes...
If I was offered a job as a professional reader with no strings attached, I would take it. Getting paid to sit around and read while drinking tea all day—I'm there. Since that’s not possible, I became an author.
I write the books I want to read—stories that give me the immersive reading experiences I crave. When a series grabs me, and it's all I can think about, I'm SO happy. When my inner dialogue starts sounding like the protagonist of my current read, I think, Oh yeah, this is IT. This is what I love.
When I finish a book, and I NEED to immediately grab the next one in the series, that’s the intensity I crave. When I binge read an entire series, I want to feel like my own reality changed—as if the stories I read affected the real world just a little. After a great series I'm a little wiser, a little more grateful for my everyday existence, and a little more aware that my personal perspective is not everyone's.
Personally, I like to spend time in fictional worlds where justice is exacted with a vengeance, even though good and bad are not always black and white. Give me raw stories with a main character who occasionally makes me laugh, is flawed like we all are, and feels like a friend by the end of the first few chapters. They don’t have to be a friend I always LIKE, per se, but a part of me has to root for them.
For me, the sentence structure is important. Too much passive voice, and I'm out. I do not mind four-letter words at all though. Sex in books can go either way—fade to black or show me the details, but either way there has to be a reason it’s in the story. I'm also into heroic pets, plots that seem totally unhinged but all come together in the end with a BANG, and long series so I always have more to look forward to.
Those are the types of stories I love reading, so that’s how I write. If you’re into some or all of the above then I think we are going to get along fantastically.
www.emilykimelman.com
