“Dream Home” – a sneak peek!

“Dream Home” – a sneak peek!

It’s coming out in just 19 days, but since this is Sneak Peek Sunday, here’s a little preview of the upcoming seventh book in the Dream Series…

Sara is in an unfamiliar room, an unfamiliar house.  It’s a living room, but one that hasn’t been updated since sometime around World War II, to judge by the look of things.  There’s an elderly man sitting in a rocking chair, slowly swaying back and forth.  Sara recognizes him: Joshua Skinner, owner of the small general store on Division Street 

Joshua is staring out the large picture window at a winterscape that looks to Sara like something out of a disaster movie.  The bare trees are swaying violently in the wind, while drifts of snow blow through the air.  Off in the distance, amidst the frozen gray gloom, Sara can see what she thinks is a fire; someone’s home or business burning to the ground.

“I warned them, but would anybody listen?  No!”  Joshua reaches to the table next to him just as a particularly powerful blast of wind shakes the entire house.  He holds the book up as though he’s addressing all the people he apparently warned – it’s the Farmer’s Almanac, Sara sees.  “It’s 1947 all over again.  Just you wait and see, Fred,” he says.  Sara knows Fred, too – she looks down to the floor to see the beagle that she and Chrissy have gotten to be good friends with, sitting at Joshua’s feet, ears perked up. 

“Yeah, just like 1947.  Even worse, maybe.  We’ll be burying half the town before it’s done with, I expect.”

Sara digs into her memories, but she finds nothing about 1947.  She assumes it must have been a blizzard like this, but it’s the twenty-first century now.  Towns aren’t wiped out by winter storms.  She can’t imagine how even the most severe blizzard could cause fires or destroy homes or kill anyone in a small town full of solidly-built houses and self-reliant people who make a habit of preparing for the worst…

***

Even before I open my eyes, my hand is reaching over to the side table.  It’s amazing that this has become an automatic reaction after less than a month.  My fingers find their target, and I shove my glasses onto my face.

That was a very nasty birthday surprise.  “You’ve just turned thirty-five.  Congratulations, your eyesight is shot!”  I’m being silly; it’s not actually as bad as all that.  I’ve got a pretty weak prescription, and the glasses themselves are fairly stylish.  They’re wire-rimmed, black, and I already don’t really notice them, which I guess is a good thing.

I feel like I should be looking for something else, though.  A newspaper?  No, a book.  A book with – why am I thinking of weather reports?

I was dreaming.  I saw Mr. Skinner from the general store.  He was reading from his Farmer’s Almanac, staring out the window, and talking to his dog about some horrible winter storm we’re due to have.

 

Follow this link to see a whole bunch of other great authors who’ve got sneak peeks of their work, too!

 

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