Bøker av Emily Kimelman

Robert Maxim's smirk feels a little like home, like the scary exciting basement steps with their shadows and hints of unnatural powers. A cold wind rushes across the fallow corn field, pulling at my cargo pants and dipping into the open neck of my long overcoat.It's too large for me, drooping off the shoulders and buttoned around my son, James, as he sleeps against my chest in his baby carrier.Blue's nose taps my hip. My son's breath warms my chest. This is home. They say you can't ever go home again-but I think they're wrong. No matter where I stand, as long as I have these two with me, I am home.Robert Maxim, on the other hand...I know I don't belong with him although he doesn't agree. The man is richer and more powerful than anyone should be. He holds as much sway over our world as the basement steps over the imagination of a child-it's a death grip that makes no sense.Here he stands now, the same cold wind bracketing me, teasing his hair-sable but silvered at the temples, just like a real villain. His ebony coat fits him perfectly, the material the kind of soft black that absorbs light.When we are ten feet away, Robert stirs, moving forward to meet us. "Sydney," he says in that voice of his, looking at me with those oceanic eyes, smiling with that smirk. Robert's gaze drops to Blue. "Blue," he says, nodding a greeting.Blue's tail wags, and he lets out a warble. Robert's smirk spreads into a smile. Blue doesn't hate Robert Maxim. Which is a point in Robert's favor. But there are too many checkmarks in the "this guy is a dangerous psychopath column" to totally trust Blue's assessment that he shouldn't be mauled on sight."Robert," I say, tilting my chin up.His gaze shifts to the bulge under my coat. My arms circle James. The black wool coat reaches past my knees covering James's body, keeping him hidden and warm. "He's asleep.""I've so looked forward to meeting him."I spent James's entire life-all eleven months of it-hiding. Not just from Robert Maxim, but he was one of the key components that made me want to bury myself away from the world.I may believe you can find home no matter where you are...but that also means you can't ever run away from yourself. Wherever you go, there you are...and in my case Robert Maxim is there too."I left you, Robert. You must realize that I'm not going to let you be in my son's life.""No?" His gaze drops to the top of James's head. He leans forward to get a peek at his face, and the emotion that steals over Robert Maxim breaks off a piece of my heart and runs away with it. "You can have it all," Robert says. "Any thing or person you desire." He throws the word desire at me like it's mine, like I should own it. "All of your wants and needs can be met. You just have to allow yourself to have them." His eyes come back to mine. "Can you do that, Sydney? Let yourself have everything you want?""How do I get you to just leave me alone?"His nostrils flare, and the skin around his eyes tighten."You can have that too. I'm not here to force you into my bed, Sydney. I'm here to save your life."P.S. The dog does not die.**Beware: If you can't handle a few f-bombs, you can't handle this series.**

Ich bin nicht ganz allein auf dieser Welt. Er hat recht. Ich brauche Hilfe. "Warte!" Meine Stimme hatte Mühe gegen den Wind anzukommen, der von der Cortés-See wehte. Mulberrys solide aussehend Gestalt bewegte sich einige Meter vor mir, im Licht der Dämmerung über den Strand und schien alle Zeit der Welt zu haben. Ich stieß mich vom Sand ab und rannte ihm hinterher. Mein Hund Blue blieb an meiner Seite, sein Gang ungleichmäßig. Mulberry drehte sich erst um, als ich seinen Arm packte. "Warte", keuchte ich. "Du hast recht. Ich brauche deine Hilfe." Er grinste und an seinen Krähenfüße sah ich seine Erleichterung, als seine gelbgrünen Augen aufleuchteten."Ich weiß", lachte Mulberry. "Du bist ziemlich durcheinander." Er zog mich an sich - einen muskulösen Arm um meine Taille und den anderen um meine Schultern. Mulberry vergrub seinen Kopf in meinen Haaren und zog mein Gesicht in seine Brust. Zuerst fühlte sich diese erstickende Vertrautheit unangenehm an. Doch fast sofort überkam mich die Erleichterung. Ich bin nicht ganz allein auf dieser Welt; nur mit einem hinkenden Hund an meiner Seite. Blue kläffte, aufgeregt von unserer Umarmung, umkreiste uns und wirbelte Sand auf. Mulberry roch nach sauberer Wäsche und nach Meersalz; einem unverwechselbaren Duft, der ganz ihm gehörte. Als er sich von mir löste, ließ Mulberry seine Hände auf meinen Schultern ruhen und sah mir ins Gesicht. Er schien so viel größer als ich, so viel stärker und klüger, und schien alles unter Kontrolle zu haben. Ich fühlte mich wie ein verschwommenes Bild neben seiner klaren, scharfen Silhouette. "Komm, ich lade dich zum Essen ein", sagte er und legte erneut seinen Arm um mich. Wir liefen zurück zur Austernfarm. Ich lebte schon seit Monaten dort, schon seit wir nach Mexiko gekommen waren. Wegen der Austern war ich gekommen, wegen der Abgeschiedenheit geblieben. "Und, wo hast du dich herumgetrieben?", fragte ich. "Wie lange ist es her? Vier Monate?" Nachdem wir unseren Schatz zu Geld gemacht hatten und reich geworden sind, reiste Mulberry ab und ich blieb, obwohl er mich eingeladen hatte, ihn zu begleiten. "Du bist nach Paris gegangen, richtig?" Die Sonne war jetzt im Meer versunken, und das tiefe Blau des Himmels wurde schwarz an den Rändern. "Ja, ich war zuerst in Paris, dann in London. Wie schon gesagt, habe ich eine Detektei gegründet." Auf meinem Plastiktisch lagen ein paar Austern in ihren Halbschalen. Ich richtete die Flasche Tequila neben ihnen auf, die umgestoßen worden war, nahm aber keinen Schluck daraus. Ein Reisepass, tiefblau wie der sich verdunkelnde Himmel und mit dem amerikanischen Siegel versehen, lag neben meinem Teller und wartete darauf, dass ich nach ihm griff. Darauf, dass ich eine neue Frau wurde: Sydney Rye. P.S. Der Hund stirbt nicht.** Vorsicht: Wer lieber keine Bücher mit ein paar Schimpfwörtern liest, meidet diese Serie besser.

The moon hangs low and full, her silvery light reflecting in the facets of black choppy water.Blue and I sit in the cockpit of a sailboat. My eyes scan the open ocean while female Peshmerga fighters sleep all around me-below deck, across benches on the bow, and one curled up on the stern.I cup my pregnant belly, allowing myself room to grieve in this peaceful moment. Rida saved my life... and I got her killed.My old story starts to ride its rails: Everyone I love dies.Tears thicken my throat. My dog, Blue, sitting by my feet, leans more heavily against my leg. I sink my fingers into the thick ruff across his broad shoulders, finding some peace in the warmth there. Blue doesn't die.Rida did, though. Shot in the back. Killed in an instant.The faces of others I've lost crowd my mind's eye. My brother, James, grins at me like he knows all my secrets. Malina winks, her eyes sparkling with joy. I got them killed too...I spawned the lies Rida used to start a revolution. Right before she died, Rida told me my lies were truth, that she was a messenger from God, and so was I. Because we are all divine. Bunch of nonsense.But Rida's lies lent strength to women, offering them the opportunity to recognize their worth.Her words freed women who'd believed other lies about our gender. That we are dangerous and in danger. More nonsense.But women believed Rida's new story instead of the old ones...fascinating how much power belief lends reality.Rida claimed to be a prophet, to have heard the voice of God, and that He said women were equal, and should rise-up and claim their rightful positions next to men. But it wasn't God, it was a very brain damaged me.The lies took on a life of their own, as they so often do. Fueled by enough belief, a well told lie-fiction-can change the world.The boat rocks gently, the sail filled by a fresh gust of wind.We are in international waters off the coast of France, fleeing. This is how my life as Sydney Rye began. Blue and I in a boat, escaping New York City. But it's no longer just us two. My son shifts inside me as if he can sense my thoughts of him...and maybe he can.The connection I feel to my son is not something I can articulate. Maybe because I'm afraid of what it sounds like. It sounds like a bunch of nonsense.I've always insisted that faith in a God, in a deity outside myself is dangerous. I always held myself responsible. Insisted that I choose to save lives, often by taking others. I made those choices. No God told me what to do, or absolved me of my actions.Those beliefs brought me here, to this boat, to this life growing inside of me. To a grief as deep as the sea beneath me.Is there a way forward without bloodshed? Can I break this curse and hold onto the ones I love without giving up and just letting the world spin on without me? It's all the trying that gets people killed. But every time I stop... they suck me back in.Lightning flashes in the distance and I look at Blue, he doesn't react to the storm I see hovering on the horizon. It lives in my damaged brain. A lie I'm telling myself.I smile, humor in the absurd thinning the blanket of grief cloaking me.Thunder rumbles and a voice whispers within it. Burn it all down.Images spring to life inside my mind's eye. A web of lies suspends humanity in a constant struggle, each of us flies buzzing against the spider's perfectly designed snare-the more we fight, the stronger the web holds. Each of us entangling ourselves further, twisting the silk tighter, holding us in our singular perspective.But even if we don't fight, the web still holds-it does not release when we surrender.There is no escape...except to destroy the web. To burn it down.

Sydney Rye und ihr Hund servieren Übeltätern ihre gerechte Strafe - der Hund stirbt nicht, aber die Bösen schon Blue war so groß wie eine Deutsche Dogge, aber dünner, mit der Schnauze eines Collies, den Markierungen eines sibirischen Huskys, den Ohren und dem Schwanz eines Schäferhundes und dem Körper eines Wolfes mit einem blauen Auge und einem braunen. In sitzender Position gekauert, unfähig, sich hinzulegen, oder sich richtig aufzusetzen, sah er mich zwischen den Gitterstäben hindurch an und ich verliebte mich. Ich holte Blue aus dem Tierheim und meine gesamte Welt veränderte sich... Als ich ihn adoptiere, sehnte ich mich nach etwas, an dem es sich festzuhalten lohnte. Ich hatte mich gerade von meinem Freund getrennt und einen Job an der Upper-East-Side aufgenommen. Ich war jung und verwirrt... und ganz normal. Ich war immer noch Joy Humbolt. Den Namen Sydney Rye hatte ich noch nie gehört. Ich hatte noch nie eine Leiche gesehen, war verprügelt oder mit einer Pistole bedroht worden. Heldin wollte ich nie werden - und Selbstjustiz hat immer einen Preis. Aber ich bereue nicht, was ich getan habe. Die Leben, die ich gerettet habe... oder die, die ich genommen habe. P.S. Der Hund stirbt nicht.P.P.S. Wer Probleme mit Schimpfwörtern, unehelichem Sex oder LGBTQ + -Charakteren hat, sollte diesem Buch fernbleiben.

To her neighbors, Jennifer Johnson seemed odd, just a little off. How could she not? Her entire existence was a lie.While the child at her breasts was really hers, the husband by her side...not so much. John and Jennifer Johnson shared the same innocuous last name-second most common in the United States-but he was not the father of her son, nor the love of her life.The Johnsons had a dog they called Buddy, the second most popular dog name in the country. Tall as a Great Dane with the snout of a Collie, the markings of a Siberian Husky, and the thick coat of a wolf with one blue eye and one brown, that dog watched the baby as if he was operating some kind of military operation. It was adorable.Buddy wasn't fixed though, something noted on by the homeowners association. A discussion ensued as to whether he was even allowed to be in the neighborhood, such a large hairy dog with such big balls. Is that what Hidden Bush was all about?The husband though, everyone liked him. Tall, fit, and handsome, he had beers with the men and helped women with their groceries. He said they'd chosen this community because they liked it, which made people feel good about the Johnsons. They could live anywhere, and they'd chosen Hidden Bush...that said something good about the neighborhood for sure. For absolute sure.The wife was a bit odd though, everyone had to admit it. And they did, as often as possible. She ran more than was probably healthy. Nursed that baby still...and it was 10 months now, the boy was walking.The Johnsons never went on dates. Seemed like Mrs. Johnson didn't ever leave that baby. Many women suspected that Mr. Johnson needed to be saved from his wife...but to be truthful, they needed to be saved from their own marriages and were really just projecting.After all, the Johnson were a lie, remember?

I never wanted to be a hero-never imagined I'd take justice into my own hands. That was before I found a corpse, before my dog saved my life...before I killed in cold blood. I'd just swapped my loser boyfriend for a giant mutt and picked up a dog walking gig on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Things were looking up until I stumbled onto a dead body. Not only is the guy dead, he's my client. The police started looking at me like I had something to do with this mess. I'm just a dog walker. But now I'm going to risk everything to bring a killer to justice. Because the world needs saving, and sometimes it takes a girl and her dog to do it. ***If you have trouble with the f-bomb, violence, or sex (not graphic but out of wedlock).. then you shouldn't start this series....it's just not your thing. If you love powerful women, gritty mysteries, and heroic dogs then join the adventure and download Unleashed today!***