As a child, she filled his void. As a woman, she completed him.
Clare has lived on St. Isabel Island all her life, except for a few months she can’t recall. A traumatic childhood experience has left a blank spot in her memory and a lingering feeling of having lost more than just a small, painful piece of her past. When the enigmatic Dr. Richard Kelly arrives on her island, she’s found that missing part. Yet she’s certain the man is a stranger to her, until she discovers he’s been hiding something from her, a secret that reawakens her childhood fears and threatens to upset her life again.
Richard Kelly’s hard-earned career as a world-renowned neurosurgeon has been derailed by his ex-wife’s unspeakable betrayal. His entire life is on a downward spiral. In a desperate attempt to outrun his demons, he sets off to a remote island in the South to trace the origins of an anonymous painting. He doesn’t expect to come face to face with the girl he once knew as Misty, and he’s instantly captivated by her genuine charm. But if the charismatic kindergarten teacher of the secret lagoon is the Misty of his past, why doesn’t she remember him?
Misty Dreams is a heartwarming love story about the healing power of new beginnings with an unexpected ending.
Targeted Age Group:: 16+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have always been fascinated by the friends-to-lovers theme and small-town settings. I wanted my first book to have both, with strong family ties as center stage.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I didn’t have clear-cut characters when I began to write Misty Dreams. They sort of invented themselves and developed along with the story—sometimes needing a little coercing, of course. When my characters induce emotion in me, that’s when I know they’re perfect.
Book Sample
CHAPTER 9
“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
Richard blinked several times to clear his vision. The human tornado he’d collided with—a decidedly more mature person than he’d initially thought—leaned over him with a worried frown on her face. Her long blond braid fell over one shoulder, the wet end of which grazed his belly, reassuring him she wasn’t an apparition.
He managed to raise himself into a sitting position but was hit by a dizzying spell, one he suspected had very little to do with the bodily impact and more with the fact that for a moment—for one crazy, incredible instant—he’d believed to have seen Misty’s eyes staring back at him.
She scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to him. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t see you. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, not at all,” he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. To be mowed down by a small, willowy wisp of a girl was a crushing blow to his manhood, and he was sure his humiliation showed.
He accepted her hand and stood, feeling like a gawky, fumbling ninth grader, dripping seawater all over her already soaked blouse and shorts. She smiled up at him, revealing a perfect set of teeth framed by full, slightly sun-chapped lips. Even wet and bedraggled, she was exquisite.
She exhaled with obvious relief. “For a moment I was afraid you’d suffered a concussion or something.”
Definitely something, he thought.
Her face grew suddenly alarmed. “Oh, no,” she cried out.
He followed the direction of her gaze and saw a multitude of what appeared to be colored eggs floating in the lagoon. She immediately began to scoop up the objects, dropping them into a basket. The children rushed to help her, and after a great deal of splashing and squealing, rescued most of the plastic eggs.
His brain still swaddled in a daze, Richard followed the activity until something bright, shiny, and half-buried in the sand between his feet caught his attention. He stooped to pick up the stray egg and placed it in the basket with the others.
“Oh, good, you rescued the golden egg,” the young woman said with an embarrassed smile. “I dropped the basket when I bumped into you and didn’t realize the eggs had fallen out. They’re for the Easter egg hunt we’re having right after playtime, and . . .”
She stopped and regarded him with earnest curiosity, as if only then fully cognizant of his presence. “You know this is a private beach, right?” she asked.
“So I’m told,” he replied, sheepishly. As if on cue, some of the older children gathered protectively around the young woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was trespassing.”
She angled her head and tapped the tip of a finger on her lips. “Let me guess. You missed the big no-trespassing sign at the entrance to the cove.”
He slid his gaze across the narrow expanse of water, and sure enough, there it was, a large and conspicuous signpost jutting out from the rocks, not far from where he’d dropped anchor. Hard to miss, but evidently the same irresistible force that had attracted him to the place had made him oblivious to everything else.
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, feeling like a chastised teenager who’d committed an infraction.
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