Welcome to my website and The House on Slocum Road, also known as "Lottie's Story."
Will a troubled socialite repress her psychic gift to appease the man she loves, or will she succumb to the mysterious pull of the past and risk losing all she holds dear ~ That's Lottie Winslow's quandary.
Strange things are happening to Lottie Winslow. Who is the stranger she sees in the mirror? Why is the same dream invading her sleep night after night? How can she witness an event that hasn't yet happened? Determined to find the answers on her own despite her doubting husband's objections, Lottie embarks upon a relentless search for her identity and familial connection. She makes a discovery in The House on Slocum Road that sparks a chain of events, which lead her to her inevitable date with destiny.
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REVIEW:
In The House on Slocum Road, author Dahris Clair offers a spooky little story about a woman who finds herself by searching in the past. As a little girl, Lottie lost herself and her unique gift. When it comes back to her, she must learn to accept herself, as she really is, not as the person others—including her well-meaning husband—want her to be.
Clair's style is reminiscent of Barbara Michaels' in her paranormal romantic suspense novels. Clair is wonderfully attuned to the details of daily life that bestow a feeling of place--the rose and gold glow of a fire kindling, church bells pealing over a snowy field. This is a cozy sort of ghost story, perfect for a winter night in front of a fire.
BookWire Review -
September 18, 2006
A page from my journal ~
July 8, 2010
A soggy fourth found the two of us picnicking at home with our pets happy to have us in their company. Annie, our Basenji mix, is fearful of the fireworks. Lucy, our 17-year-old alpha cat, slept easily on my lap for as long as I could sit still.
Saturday was a dreary day, just perfect for writing. When the children were little rainy days inspired cookie baking and cozy fires. The snap and crackle of the logs was a comforting sound. Then, we moved south and things necessarily changed.
With the children grown and gone, three out of state, one out of the country, two in South Florida, one on the Alabama border of Florida and my eldest only 45 minutes away, she's the one who has taken over the holiday BBQs. The swimming pool has replaced the fireplace.
We visit, are entertained by great-granddaughter Sydney Jane who is every bit as precocious as Lottie's daughter, Linny.
We'll be attending Sydney's fifth birthday celebration this month. Her favorite beings are Ariel and Hello Kitty, so Grandma Mimi has found items sure to please her. She loves to read and we love to keep her supplied with books.
Carl and I plan to visit Tim, Tammy and our grandchildren, Chris, who will be fourteen in October, and Princess Victoria, our adorable eight-year-old. Vicky loves music, something she inherits from both her grandmothers, and she likes to sing. We're eager to see the new horses, the dogs and cats. We are, and always have been, an animal loving family.
I suppose we're just like every other family except that this grandma spends a lot of time in her office, a cat on her desk as I write. Since Carl has discovered the wonders of "Google," he too spends a lot of time at his desk at the opposite end of the house. We meet in the middle for lunch and dinner and most often spend the evening enjoying each other's company.
Until next time, keep well and stay safe.
June 14, 2010 - Flag Day
Carl and I had errands to run and noticed many homes that were proudly flying their flags. That would make old Harry proud, bless him. Lieutenant Harry T. Black was the commander for the Fort Lauderdale Division of WWI Veterans. The one thing this grand old man would gripe about was the absence of flags in residential areas. "It's like they've forgotten what we've done. Everybody is so busy they just forget us. I assured him they hadn't forgotten. Look at all the people out at the grave site--they're remembering.
It was somber yet pretty sight to see the rows of crosses and their flags, furling and unfurling.
They met once a month at Lauderdale Memorial Gardens, and in the gardens. It was lovely and open, flowers all around and column on column of white Italian marble crypts housing recognizable names: Rocky Marciano - they couldn't find his money so the city took care of the cost--the Gore family who started the Ft. Lauderdale News were entombed there too. Rocky's youngest son was in my daughter Melissa's class at St. Clement's School. Seems like it was yesterday. . . .
Until next time, keep well and stay safe.
