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:
The air in the valley was thick and still, like a held breath. By 4:00 PM, the cicadas had stopped their rhythmic buzzing, and the sky had turned an eerie, bruised shade of violet.
Jagged white veins pulsed across the clouds, illuminating the woods in strobing flashes. summer storm
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
A deep, bone-rattling growl that followed so quickly you could feel the vibration in your teeth. If you're looking for a different kind of
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.
A solid grey curtain that erased the neighboring farm from view. On the porch, Silas watched the gutters overflow,
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.