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A Five-Minute Life by Emma Scott Series: Standalone Novel
Published by Self Published on 5/14/19
Pages: 355
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Remember us...when I can't.
Thea Hughes has five minutes to live.
A car accident stole her parents and left her with the second-worst documented case of amnesia in the world. She now has only minutes of experiences, of consciousness, of life…before her memory is wiped clean. The once effervescent artist with a promising future is reduced to scribbling with pens and paper, living an empty, quiet life, three hundred seconds at a time.
Jim Whelan is on autopilot.
A foster kid shuffled around the system since birth, he’s lived his entire life without knowing love…and it’s taken its toll—until he learned to fight back, carry his armor, and keep his head down.
Working as an orderly in the Blue Ridge Sanitarium, deep in Virginia countryside, Jim looked up…and found Thea.
When Thea has the chance to break free of her five-minute prison with a risky, experimental surgery, it could lead them both to an epic love they never thought possible… or one that could require the ultimate sacrifice.
A Five-Minute Life is superbly woven together… the art, the memories, the absence of memory, the raw attraction between these characters whose road is fraught with impossibility yet somehow find their way… it all is so masterful, so meticulous, so unforgettable. This book was absolutely wonderful, I can’t say it enough. It’s just breathtaking, this experience, and I can’t recommend it enough.
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Jessica’s Review
I try very hard to always review books, not authors. Personal feelings about the person behind the words rarely come into play when I’m reading as I always try to remain subjective and unbiased, separating the art from the artist so to speak. So I did that here, mostly, with A Five-Minute Life, allowing this story of a woman with severe, complex amnesia and the orderly who finds himself wholly captivated by her, to completely sweep me away. It wasn’t until I finished reading that I really sat back and contemplated the author behind the words, the emotion and the honesty that Emma Scott injected into this work knowing firsthand how important it is to embrace life after experiencing the fragility of it all. The raw desperation Thea feels to LIVE, her palpable need to GO ON after tragedy, her staunch rebellion against the nothingness that threatens to swallow her, her bravery in facing everyday as it comes knowing tomorrow could tear it all away again… there’s simply no separation of art from artist after that kind of authenticity. Emma Scott’s heart is in every word of this book and because of that, my whole heart was completely riveted as I read.
This story was so beautiful, so unbelievably heartbreaking, so powerfully honest. It’s a stunning testament to life, to unconditional love, to promises, to fighting for what’s important. It’s a story about promising to live and fight and remember for someone who can’t. This book hollowed me out, wreaked complete havoc on my heart and soul, eked out every possible emotion I could feel, and put me back together in the most unpredictable, heart stopping manner. I had no idea how this would end. Truly, I expected something else. But this story, in all its twists and turns and emotional tumult came together in the most brilliant way and I loved it so completely.
A Five-Minute Life is superbly woven together… the art, the memories, the absence of memory, the raw attraction between these characters whose road is fraught with impossibility yet somehow find their way… it all is so masterful, so meticulous, so unforgettable. This book was absolutely wonderful, I can’t say it enough. It’s just breathtaking, this experience, and I can’t recommend it enough.
Excerpt
“Marc Antony,” I said and nodded at her drawing. “Part of your Egyptian studies?”
Thea leaned her cheek on her folded hands like she was warming herself before a fire. “Marc Antony is part of the romance. A love story with Cleopatra. He went to war for her. Died for her. When they told her he was dead, she put her hand in a basket with an asp. Can you imagine? Loving someone so much that the thought of life without them is too unbearable?”
“No,” I said. “I can’t.”
Her gaze dropped to my hand on the table and her fingers reached to trace the scars on my knuckles.
These tell a story, don’t they?” She traced one of the fine lines. “You put your hand in with the snakes, too.”
I nodded slowly, savoring the feel of her warm skin on mine. “So the bullies would leave me alone.”
“And did they?”
“Eventually.”
“I’m glad.” She put her hand in mine completely, her fingers wrapping around and holding tight. “I’m being too… something. Personal. Delia would throw a fit, but I feel like…”
“Like what, Thea?”
“Like I have to hold on to this moment, you know? Or you… I don’t even know you and yet I don’t want to stop talking to you.” Her hand squeezed mine. “I don’t care if you have a stutter, but please keep talking to me, Jimmy. Okay?”
My mouth went dry at the nameless desperation in her eyes.
Jesus, does she know she’s trapped? She can’t. Impossible…
“I won’t,” I said. “I’ll talk to you every day. I promise.”
Thea breathed a small sigh of relief and released my hand. “Thank you, Jimmy. That makes me feel better.”
With a final smile—a parting smile, I realized—she took up her pen and then froze.
She’s resetting.
Confusion passed over her features. She looked up at me, flinching a little to see a big man in close proximity. I instantly leaned back to give her space.
“How long has it been?” she asked.
“Two years,” I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “But the doctors are working on your case.”
“Yes, they are.” She smiled hesitantly and found my nametag. “I’m Thea Hughes.”
Seven. Seven times now.
“Jim Whelan,” I said.
She offered her hand. Again. I took it robotically, enduring her one-pump shake. Again. Her fingers didn’t linger in mine but released immediately, the way you do with a stranger. Again.
“Nice to meet you, Jim Whelan.”
Fuck. I can’t do this.
I rose to my feet. “I have to get to work.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Bummer. Will I see you again?”
I could promise her I would, but she wouldn’t remember. There was no promise. I could tell her the sky was falling or my name was Abraham Lincoln and she wouldn’t know the damn difference. It’d vanish, like every other word we’d ever spoken to each other. I vanished every time her reset hit and was recreated over again in Thea’s eyes. I could be whatever I wanted; whomever I wanted. And yet she was the one woman I might’ve had a chance to be myself with.
The terrible irony of it was like copper in my mouth.
“Sure, Miss Hughes,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
About the Author
Emma Scott is a bestselling author of emotional, character-driven romances in which art and love intertwine to heal, and in which love always wins. If you enjoy thoughtful, realistic stories with diverse characters and kind-hearted heroes, you will enjoy my novels.
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