Vicki Hinze - Beyond the Misty Shore

Blurb

Publishers Weekly said: Barrett successfully launches the new Seascape series with a debut contemporary that revolves around a mystical bed-and-breakfast of the same name. The whimsy begins when Tyler MacGregor, a world-class artist, returns to Seascape Inn to find peace and healing after the death of his fiance. The peace is short-lived when Tyler discovers a mysterious something is holding him against his will and he cant leave. With the arrival of spunky Maggie Wright on the scene, it isnt long before both are embroiled in the mysterious happenings. Barretts vivid imagination is contagious, and her clever fusion of humor, mystery and romance makes the story almost believable.

Literary Times said: A must-read for any genre romance reader! Beyond The Misty Shore is a really terrific romance! It shares a subtle message that we all can learn from... Powerful, moving and uplifting! Victoria Barrett writes pure magic!

Coming next:

Upon a Mystic Tide, and Beside a Dreamswept Sea.

All three novels are being re-issued by Bell Bridge Books in multi-format ebook editions and new trade paperback editions, beginning in September 2011. For more information visit Bell Bridge Books at http://bellbridgebooks.com .

Other Vicki Hinze Titles Coming Soon From Bell Bridge Books:

Military Romances

Shades of Gray, Acts of Honor, and All Due Respect

Metaphysical Romantic Suspense

Festival

Maybe This Time .

Beyond the Misty Shore

Book One in the Seascape Trilogy

by

Vicki Hinze

Bell Bridge Books

Copyrights

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead,) events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
eISBN: 978-1-61194-064-0
ISBN: 978-1-61194-054-1

Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright 1996 by Vicki Hinze

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Beyond the Misty Shore Vicki Hinze writing as Victoria Barrett; first published in mass market paperback by St. Martins Press, NY

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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credits:
Beach (manipulated) Jo Ann Snover | Dreamstime.com
Woman (manipulated) Elena Alykova-sergeeva | Dreamstime.com

:Etbm:01:

Chapter 1

T.J. MacGregor tried to leave Seascape Inn, but every time he crossed the propertys boundary line, he blacked out.

For nine months now, he had attempted to find out why. Yet, after all this time, he stood alone on the misty shore, his feet wedged into crevices in the jagged rocks, without so much as a weak hypothesis.

Hoping for a miracle but fearing hed used his ration of them long ago, he looked to the horizon. A wall of fog headed inland, rolling over the white-capped Atlantic. The frigid November wind soon would carry it onto the cliffs and it, too, would enshroud him. That had new resentment heaping onto the old and burning in his stomach. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. Why couldnt he find it?

Angry waves crashed against the sea-jutting rocks forming the coastal barrier and the narrow strip of sandy beach below. The smell of salt spray filled his nose. It tingled from the cold, as his nerves did from tension, and he looked down at his hands. They were red and raw and trembling. He rubbed warmth into his numb fingers, setting them to stinging and him to cursing at not having gloves. If hed expected to winter in Sea Haven Village, Maine, hed have had gloves. But hed expected to be at home in New Orleans. Hed expected to be painting.

The resentment burned deeper, welled in his throat. His eyes stung and teared. He blinked, then turned away from the ocean, letting his gaze dart past the dead grass, brown and bent and broken under the weight of blade-clinging ice. Feeling equally burdened, he looked on toward the nest of firs and the hints of rooftops beneath the steely gray clouds in the sleepy village to the south, then up the western path leading back to the house that once had seemed to heal and now had become his prison.

Seascape Inn.

Across the road and atop a little hill, it looked so... ordinary. Just three floors of gray Victorian clapboard with stark, white shutters. A widows walk. A wide porch strewn with rockers and a swing. A north tower stretching up into the heavy clouds.

Ordinary.

Yet no one knew better than Tyler James MacGregor that Seascape Inn was anything but ordinary.

During his time here, most guests had attributed Seascapes special assets to its caretaker, Miss Hattie, an angel if ever one walked the earth. But some had claimed Seascape itself the haven: a wonderful old house with seemingly magical, soothing powers where a person could come broken-bodied, or broken-spirited, gaze out upon the star-spangled sea, and heal.

On departing, three guests had seemed disturbed, though theyd refused to disclose their reasons, which could have been entirely unrelated to the inn. But the majority of the guests had said nothing out of the ordinary and had radiated silent contentment. A rare two guests, however, actually had called Seascape The Healing House. With those particular two, T.J. closely identified. Though cynical now, hed felt that same way years ago, on his first visit here.

Miss Hattie swore that during her lifetime Seascape had seen more than its fair share of miracles, and everyone in the village considered her word bankable. Forced to agree with them, T.J. rubbed at his neck. Pure and simple, the woman could never lie. But she could be a victim of distorted perception.

Living here as a prisoner for the last nine months had opened his eyes in a way only forced, constant exposure can. What hed known about the seaside inn back then hadnt been the entire picture, and the entire picture had him wondering. Was Seascape a haven or hell?

Still uncertain, he squinted up at the thin rays of weak sunlight seeping through cracks in the early morning haze. They slanted against the attic room window, and the glass sparkled gold like a cocky, winking sentry, mocking him. His stomach churned and, seething, he glared at the glass. How had he been so blind? So enraptured with Seascapes false sense of calm and peace back then that hed convinced himself the house held the ability to heal? How had he been so arrogant as to truly believe it held magic and hed captured that magic on canvas?

T.J. grunted. That was the trouble. He had believed. God, had he believed. So much so hed neglected to remember something very basic in art, and in life: every object casts shadows.

Hed once experienced Seascapes light, its healing magicthe object. Now, he experienced its dark side, its curseits shadows. The light sucked a man in and blinded him to his troubles. The shadows lured him, then tortured his mind and smothered him until the man inside threatened to wither and die.