UNTAMED DESIRES (BLACK ROSE DOMS #1) BY RORY REYNOLDS – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Rory Reynolds
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Christmas Day – 2012
“COME ON, AMARA, THEY’RE WAITING,” the social worker says. I
don’t even bother to correct her about my name again. My legal name is
Amara Rose Thompson, but I’ve always gone by Rose. Something this
woman can’t seem to be bothered with remembering. I guess I can’t be too
upset considering she’s just ‘the social worker’ to me. Of course, she has a
name, something generic like Jenny or Patty or maybe it was April. I don’t
know, and I don’t care, my whole world has crumbled around me. Again.
Social worker Sue puts her hand on my back to guide me faster up the
cracked walkway towards the house.
It could be any other house in middle-class America. Two stories, white
clapboard, blue shudders, a large porch with a swing, red front door. I
should be glad to be out of the girls’ home so quickly, especially during the
holiday season, but what’s the point? Now I get to pretend holiday cheer
with Mr. and Mrs. Perfect and their family when all I really want to do is
curl up and die. The door opens before we even climb the steps to the
porch, and Mrs. Perfect steps out with a toddler on her hip, a huge smile on
her face.
“Well, look at you, what a beautiful young lady,” Mrs. Perfect says her
voice is dripping with fake enthusiasm, at least I’m pretty sure it’s fake.
Who can be so cheery when they are getting the problem child no one else
wants? “I am Mommy Marcia, and this here is Benny.” I kid you not,
Mommy Marcia is how she introduces herself as if I will ever think of her
as my mother. My mom is dead. With that thought, a wave of pain lances
through my chest, and I feel like crumbling right here on the stairs. How do
these people not see the pieces of me laying all over the place? I’m
shattering, and no one cares.
I’m not really here with these people. I’m locked deep inside my own
mind somewhere in the darkest depths. Marcia takes me and social worker
Jane on a tour of the house; kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, attic door (it’s
off-limits she says, indicating the lock), last door on the left will be mine.
There are two sets of bunk beds and two dressers, the walls are painted
prison cell gray, the bedding is gray, the carpet is gray—super cheerful
place. We are back down in the living room; I don’t even remember coming
back downstairs. I’m drowning in my own personal sea of despair who
cares about the grand tour. Social worker Sally pats my shoulder and
reminds me that all I have to do is call if I need anything before leaving me
with my new family.
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