Monday, October 27, 2014

Book Feature: Dream Vacation Book 8 In The Dream Series By James Dibenedetto

Blurb for Dream Vacation (book 8 in the Dream Series)

Thanks to her unique ability to step into other people's dreams, Dr. Sara Alderson has solved murders, unraveled conspiracies and saved lives. But when a crisis hits close to home, even her supernatural gift might not be enough to avert disaster.

On a family vacation to Paris, Sara's fifteen-year-old daughter Grace disappears without a trace. The only way to find her is through Sara's dreams. But her gift has taken an unwanted vacation, and without it, Sara has no idea how to rescue Grace. In a foreign city, with no clues, and her dreaming talent failing her for the first time, Sara must figure out another way to find Grace before it's too late.


About the Dream Series
What if you could see everyone else’s dreams?  That’s the question Sara has to wrestle with in the Dream Series.  We first meet her as a shy, bookish college student who doesn’t think there’s anything extraordinary about herself.  And then the dreams start…

Over the course of the series, Sara learns to live with these supernatural dreams and all the trouble they plunge her into.  At the same time, she grows from a student to a practicing doctor; and from a single girl to a wife and mother.  But every time she thinks she’s got everything figured out, life – and her extraordinary dreams – teach her that she’s always got more to learn…

Excerpt:

Three AM.  Why is it always three AM with these dreams?

“Who was it?”  He doesn’t need to ask why I’m awake and muttering at three – sorry, 3:01 AM, now.  All he needs is the details.

“Grace,” I say.  He stares at me, his eyes asking a question.  I hold his eyes, shrugging apologetically, and he’s got his answer.  A whole conversation in five seconds and one word – I guess that’s what happens after almost fourteen years of marriage.

“You were going to tell me last night, weren’t you?”

I was.  But when I walked into the bedroom and saw him lying there, just waiting for me – well, what was I supposed to do?

I scoot up next to him, smile, and trace a finger the whole length of his scar.  It really isn’t that bad.  I did about as well as anyone could have when I operated on him, considering the circumstances.  If I’d had more time to prepare, or a full surgical team, or the right facilities, there might not be a visible scar at all.  But I didn’t – and if I hadn’t operated when I did, in the middle of that horrible storm a year and a half ago, I might not have a husband now. 

He doesn’t mind the scar, and, anyway, it’s just something we have in common now.  I still have the old scar from my appendectomy, so we match.  His finger goes to it now, and I shudder a little at his touch.  Just like always.  “What can I say?  I just can’t resist you.”  

“I get that,” he says, with a wicked grin.  “And you didn’t tell me beforehand because…?”

He knows perfectly well why.  “You can’t keep a secret.  I mean, you can at work, I know that.  But not with me, or the kids.” 

He starts to shake his head, but I glare at him, and he sighs heavily.  “I admit it,” he says finally.  It’s the same reason that, when we want to really surprise one of the kids on their birthday, I handle everything.  Brian and I agree on a dollar amount and a general idea, but I buy the actual gift myself, and he doesn’t see it until it’s unwrapped. 


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About The Author:
J.J. (James) Dibenedetto's fans would swear he's got a sixth sense when it comes to seeing into the minds of others and often wonder if his stories could possibly be fiction. He enjoys suspending disbelief with suspenseful paranormal tales that are a perfect blend of reality meets fantasy.
His popular Dream Series continues to delight readers with each and every exciting installment.
Born in Yonkers, New York, he currently resides in Arlington Virginia with his beautiful wife and a cat he is sure has taken full advantage of its nine lives. When it comes to the cat, he often wonders, but then again it might just be his imagination.

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