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- THE PERFECT HOME available in a store near you!
THE PERFECT HOME available in a store near you!
Plus: Read the first page and a half of THE PERFECT HOME
Daniel Kenitz
January 07, 2025
So it’s official: Scribner can’t change their minds anymore. THE PERFECT HOME is available for purchase. If you live in North America, there is a decent chance you can find it in a bookstore near you.
If you feel like supporting me (and I assume you’re a friendly if you’re reading this newsletter), please buy it, review it, ask your local bookstore about it, and otherwise tell your friends! Thank you.
Today is the day my lifelong dream shifts tenses, from future to present.
Your boy is a published author.
Above: I think my favorite part about the cover is how cool it looks when stacked.
But since this week figures to be hectic between balancing freelancing, book events, the Chicago Bears launching a new head coaching search*, and looking up ways to avoid checking up on sales and what people are saying about it…
…how about I do something short instead?
AP Review of THE PERFECT HOME
You could easily devour “The Perfect Home” in one sitting if it wasn’t so nerve-jangling that you have to put it down to regain your composure. This book had me shocked, despondent and furious in turns, and I loved it.
It was great to see this review come in yesterday and give a nice lift to the book and my confidence heading into publication day. Thank you!
Meet THE PERFECT HOME!
Oh, and I talk a lot about writing, but how about this thing I’ve written?
Since the sample is now available online, why don’t I just give you the opening to THE PERFECT HOME right here?
THE PERFECT HOME
Chapter 1
Dawn
A fuse has blown inside me. I’m sure of it. If it made noise, it would be like a fireork: a pop, a sizzle, then silence. There was a cramp in my side two nights ago, which I assumed was gas. But gas doesn’t land you in the office of a fertility specialist. Something else is wrong. Something inside me, something critical and egg producing, has become overgrown with a dark spot that the doctor has found. A polyp. A tumor. An alien tentacle.
Yeah. I’m a bit of a worrier.
Sensing this, my husband tightens his hand around mine. Wyatt is always hot-blooded. I like how I can squish his veins, watch them roll and wriggle like snakes under the skin.
“Dawn and Wyatt Decker—fancy meeting you here again.” The doctor plops two folders on her desk and smiles, pleased with the joke she must tell every couple. Jokes are strange coming out of her. Small and spectacled with a pinpoint chin, she looks like a woman who would shush you at a library. “Well, then. Dawn. How’s the irritation?”
Not nearly as bad as the anticipation. Three days of rubbing my unoccupied belly in the mirror, circle after circle, like some healing spell. Three days of Wyatt humming Brahms’s “Lullaby” in the shower.
I eye the folder on her desk and give Wyatt’s hand a squeeze. “Irritation’s totally gone,” I say.
The doctor chuckles. ”That’s good. Because we put you through the wringer the other day.”
That’s putting it lightly. Three days ago, the tests hit me like a marathon rerun of Sex Ed. Uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes, ovarian fossa. Did you know ovaries are technically gonads? I do now. I am thirty-one years old and I just learned I have gonads. The process of oogenesis—egg-making—is an assembly line of follicles and oocytes. I don’t like knowing this much about myself. There are too many moving parts, too many things that can go wrong.
What does go wrong?
ALL THE THINGS.
But if you want to narrow it down, there’s only one way to find out in specific:
Until next time,
DK
*Yes this will actually consume a lot of my free time