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.
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…
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Blurb for Dream Home (book 7 in the Dream Series)
“Oh, my God, I’m not even starting the job for four months! How can I have an enemy already?”
Sara thought she had found the perfect job, the perfect new house and the perfect place to build a bright future for herself and her family.
But her new life is not quite perfect. Her husband and her children are fitting right in, but before Sara even shows up for her first day of work, her coworkers are dreaming about getting rid of her.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the one friend she’s made is dreaming nightly about a disaster that could wipe out the entire town…and Sara is beginning to think he might be right…
Dream Home is the exciting seventh book in the Dream Series.
Excerpt from Dream Home
Joshua begins to stir the moment we’re alone. “Joshua, relax,” I say, when he tries and fails to sit up. “You’re in the hospital. You fell and hit your head.”
I give him a bright smile. “You remembered what to call me. That’s a very good sign. But I need to examine you. I’m going to take off your gloves and unzip your coat so I can get a better look at you.”
“I haven’t had a woman try to take my clothes off since 1969,” he says, and I can’t tell from his expression whether that’s a joke or not. He shrugs after a moment. “Woodstock.” For one ridiculous moment, I wonder, assuming he’s serious, if Aunt Kat was that woman. She went to Woodstock, too. Whenever I would ask her about it, she’d tell me that she had plenty of stories, but that I wasn’t old enough to hear them.
But that’s just silly. Kat was in her early twenties, and Joshua would have been forty-six. Besides, there were, what, a million people there? “Really?”
“Really,” he says. “I had to see Jefferson Airplane. I had a thing for Grace Slick, what can I say?”
I have no idea how to respond to that.