April 2, 2009, began as every spring day does in southern Utah. The sun was bright, warm, and welcoming. The temperature would rise into the high eighties. Winds blew soft and warm, much warmer than expected in April. The roses along the patio were in full bloom, a perfect day. At noon, it became too warm for the four dogs to stay outdoors, so they all came through the open doors of the dining room to lie down in the family room, where Dad slept in his leather chair.

While this went on, the painter was bringing in bathroom doors, which he had refinished with clear lacquer, to begin mounting them to the cabinet frames. The master bath renovation was complete except for one door, which needed a screw to be tightened.

Two five-gallon containers of lacquer sat beside him on the floor as he started on his electric drill to tighten the screw. The explosion rocked the house, part of the roof blew off, and flames shot thirty-five feet into the air, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. It was twelve thirty.

Nate jumped up from his rest, running to help the painter. Rita grabbed the fire extinguisher, only to find that it was inadequate for the job at hand. She dialed 911 as she herded the dogs from the house. Collette panicked and ran back in. There were two cats to save as well from the office. The smoke dropped low, making the rescue difficult. After what seemed an eternity, fire trucks began to arrive, nine in all. By five that day, the fire became national news.

Thus began a seven-month miracle journey home led by two white doves from heaven.

I hope this will capture the attention of readers. I learned to call this a hook when I wrote my first book. Hopefully, the last sentence will do just that. Please let me know that this arrived. Thank you, Rita.