If you're looking for a different kind of 'stormy' story, check out this preview of Sarah MacLean's recent novel, where family drama and a literal storm island collide:
A solid grey curtain that erased the neighboring farm from view.
On the porch, Silas watched the gutters overflow, the water cascading like mini-waterfalls. For twenty minutes, the world was nothing but noise and water. It was a violent, beautiful cleansing. The Aftermath summer storm
A deep, bone-rattling growl that followed so quickly you could feel the vibration in your teeth.
Jagged white veins pulsed across the clouds, illuminating the woods in strobing flashes. If you're looking for a different kind of
Suddenly, the wind flipped. It wasn't a breeze; it was a wall of cool, cedar-scented air that knocked the humidity sideways. The first fat drops hit the dusty driveway like silver bullets, kicking up little puffs of earth. Then, the sky split open. The storm didn't just rain—it exhaled.
The heat was gone. The air was sweet and sharp with the smell of wet pavement and crushed grass. Silas opened the door, and the cat finally stepped out, sniffing the brand-new world. It was a violent, beautiful cleansing
Old Man Silas sat on his porch, watching the horizon. He didn’t need a barometer; he could feel the pressure in his knees. "She’s coming," he muttered to the cat, who was already huddled by the door.