When one reads about having a dynamic, explosive, and gripping first sentence, this should be what one thinks about:
The blast shoved me backward. I tumbled down the steps and hit the wall on the third floor with such force that my breath left my body. I slid down and landed, feet out.
Clouds of dust gathered around me. I was covered in dirt, bits of door, and blood.
I hadn’t expected this. Anger, a gun, maybe, but not a bomb. The air was white with plaster dust. I was coughing, which hurt my ribs. I couldn’t see anything ahead of me. My eyes were dry and chalky, and the inside of my mouth tasted like paint. I closed it, and my teeth ground against chunks of plaster.
Nelscott, Kris - War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel
Have never read anything by Kris Nelscott. The first few pages sure pulled me in.
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