1 November 2015

Sunday Snippet from Remnants of Dreams--on sale thru Nov for $99 http://store.payloadz.com/go/?id=2387518

Buy here at the BWL store
Remnants of Dreams begins in North London with Alicia's story. It is 1914, just at the beginning of WW1. Alicia is left with a child when her first love is killed. She eventually marries Matt and they have another nine children. This is the story of a changing world, and takes us through two world wars, following the loves and heartaches of a large family battling extreme poverty. But despite this they are rich in the things that matter--love and pride.
Part two is the story of Sara, Alicia's headstrong daughter. History repeats itself when Sara’s first love is tragically killed, leaving her carrying his child.  Not as fortunate as her mother Sara marries the wrong man because the one she loves is married to her sister. But following her mother's example she finds the strength and courage to face many trials and setbacks before building a new life for her and her daughters, and in due course finding true love.

Sitting on the mat before the fire she brushed her hair. It had grown an inch or so. She doubted she'd ever have it cut again. As soon as it was long enough she'd put it back in her familiar bun.

Mathew moved about next door. Staring into the flames she thought about the day. She'd danced with him at Fiona's wedding. Neither of them could be called dancers; they'd just sort of swayed in time to the music. His arms felt remarkably good about her, and for all his strength he could be very gentle.

She’d remember the strange light in his eyes as he looked down at her all her days. It felt as if he was branding her.

Arty pulled them apart by tugging at her skirt, and she'd laughed self­-consciously as Mathew lifted her hand to kiss her fingers, just like a gallant gentleman.

Getting up, she went to pull Arthur's picture out of the drawer. It dawned on her she hadn't looked at it since she'd moved in here.

"Oh, Arthur," she murmured, as she puffed up her cheeks and exhaled. Closing her eyes she tilted her head back and let out a soft groan. Arthur was dead, and she was very much alive.

The feelings stirring in her for weeks could be denied no longer. She thrust the picture back and pushed the drawer shut, whispering, "Forgive me."
Please take a moment to visit these blogs for more snippets from amazing authors:
http://mizging.blogspot.com (Ginger Simpson)
http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/  Juliet Waldron
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