I dread looking at my email in case the review sites I requested reviews from for Animal have posted reviews.
Although my two beta readers loved the book, the ones from a reader review site were less than enthusiastic, often pointing out that Animal does not follow the accepted “rules” for the paranormal romance trope.
I don’t know what those rules are because I don’t read paranormal romance. The idea of human characters who change into animal form at designated times or at will, doesn’t appeal to me.
I didn’t set out to write a paranormal romance, either. Animal evolved into one, however, and I went with it.
I still remember that long-ago evening walk through my neighborhood, a particularly dark section of the road with woods on either side and the idea that although I felt perfectly safe inside my gated community, what if something emerged from those woods and attacked me. What if I couldn’t see what it was?
After tentatively checking my email and finding nothing yet, I pick up my proof copy of Animal and flip through it, reading passages here and there.
Did I blow it? Is the book terrible? Will everyone hate it? Will all of the reviews be bad?
As I set the book back on the shelf, I tell myself this: I did the best I could.
I have to be satisfied with that.