This woman is an earthquake with a heartbeat and a smile capable of shifting the earth beneath your feet, but powerful enough to bring your whole world crumbling down. It absolutely terrifies me. And all I know is I want more of it.
Of her.
Guys. No, really, GUYS.
YOU. NEED. TO. READ. THIS. BOOK.
I’m not kidding; if you find a book that can make you cry with laughter, nod with acceptance and recognition, and ache with love and a little bit of Oh, FFS, then you shout about it from the rooftops.
So, this is me, on the metaphorical rooftop (because heights are a no from me), YELLING at you.
Birthquake is exactly what it says it is. A “romantic comedy of seismic proportions.” It’s sidesplittingly funny—Jeff and Henley’s meet-cute OMFG—and so freakin’ relatable that I was addicted. From page one.
This reading experience bounced between hilarity, feels and a bumpy trip down memory lane (let’s just say that freaking out during labor and trying to escape the birthing suite while demanding a twenty minute time out was not my finest hour) and I loved it. LOVED it.
Seriously. Jeff is the sweetest man. Weird, yes. Kind of goofy, sure. But just perfect? DEFINITELY. And Henley, lord help me, she was ME. Or any woman struggling with life and babies and ridiculous friends and family. Not to mention some of the harder, more jarring aspects of pregnancy and being a new mom.
Birthquake might be a seismic rom-com, but it’s also laced with truths and poignancy, and it’s absolutely wonderful because of it. I’m sure you’ll think so too.
And if you do… meet me on the rooftop. (It’s still a metaphor. I’m enamored with this book and author, but not enough to risk my life atop a high-rise. Or even a low-rise. Sorry.)
I mean, if Samuel L. Jackson told me to dress like a chicken, walk into a KFC and cry because everyone there was eating my babies, I would do it. Because he’s freakin’ Samuel L. Jackson.
~ FIVE Milkman STARS ~