30,000 Words

30,000 Words

I’m about a third of the way through book #5 at this point.  I’ve got the prologue and chapters 1-3 and also 7 finished, and chapters 4 and 8 are both mostly done.

The next part will be chapters 5-6, where we’ll meet some of Brian’s co-workers, as well as the villain (although we won’t know that when we first see her).

I know what’s going to happen in chapter 9 (and probably 10), and I’ve got the last chapter figured out, but there’s a big gap there between chapter 10-15 that I’m not quite sure about yet.  We’ll see how that all goes.

Meanwhile, here’s a little bit from chapter 8.  Sara’s decided to try and actively use her ability to step into dreams to help Brian figure out who’s trying to undermine him at work…

“How many times have I helped other people with my dreams?  Why shouldn’t I help the man I love?”


I look into his beautiful brown eyes, and I can feel the power blazing from my stare and into him.  I’m holding him motionless, helpless, the way he does to me so easily and so often.  I’ve never done that to him before – but I have done it at work.  When I’m worried that a parent isn’t taking their child’s condition seriously, or when I’m delivering bad news that they don’t want to hear but absolutely need to know.  When my protective nature comes out full-force.

If there’s anyone in this world I should be protecting, it’s my husband, right?  “No arguments.  You think I’m going to sit back and watch you lose everything you’ve worked for without a fight?  You ought to know me better than that.”  He does; he can tell that there’s no way he’s going to change my mind.  Besides, he knows I’m right.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, he just relaxes his grip on me and I tighten my hold on him in return.  “OK,” he says, finally.  “If you’re going to try, I’d start with Joe.”

“Why him?”

“He’s the number two man.  He knows everything I know.”  It’s hard to picture Joe Burns trying to undermine Brian.  We’ve had dinner at his house probably a dozen times; his daughter is in Brownies with Lizzie.  My disbelief must show on my face, because Brian shrugs.  “I don’t really think he’s doing anything on purpose.  But he could still be talking when he shouldn’t – maybe whoever he’s talking to is the one behind everything.”

That’s possible.  I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any.  I summon up a mental picture of Joe: close-cut hair nearly the same color as Brian’s, grayish-blue eyes behind terribly unfashionable black plastic-framed glasses, a navy suit that looks as though it once belonged to his father.  And an infectious grin that he’s worn just about every time I’ve met him.  It’s strange to be making myself purposely think of another man, especially at bedtime, but I can see him very clearly as I feel myself fading…


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