Come have a peek inside Asylum Harbor by Isla Grey
The waves of Asylum Harbor crashed against the hull of the ferryboat that dared to cut through its churning waters. Devon Brown’s long tresses whipped in the wind as she clung to the deck’s railing and looked toward the shrouded Shell Island. Her view of the mainland wasn’t much better. The fog and mist obscured what she was leaving behind in a fitting goodbye.
Devon strengthened her deathlike grip when the boat swayed in the heavy surf. Her palms grew sweaty. “What was I thinking?” she mumbled to herself as she strained to see the outline of the island ahead.
Another spray of salty water made her release her hold on the railing and step away. She cautiously took another step back. Just as she began to turn around, she collided with another ferry rider. The bump was enough to send her off balance, and she spiraled down to the deck.
“You should watch where you’re going.” The looming figure towered over her.
Devon shook the grime from the deck off her hand and could feel the salt water seeping through the denim on her backside. She looked up, about to give him a piece of her mind, but was immediately tongue-tied as she admired the snugness of the white T-shirt he had on. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Take my hand.” He leaned over and extended hisarm.
She eagerly accepted the offer, and he effortlessly hoisted her up. Devon grasped his biceps as she tried to steady herself. The man’s icy blue stare shifted from her face to the hand on his arm.
“Sorry.” She took her hand away and glanced at her watch. The ferry ride was supposed to take twenty-five minutes, but they were eight minutes behind schedule.
“Do you know how much longer…” She darted backward before she could finish speaking to avoid another stream of water.
The man shook his head. “You should have stayed on the mainland if you’re that paranoid.”
“Maybe I’ll just wait in my vehicle.” Devon rolled her eyes and walked over to her Jeep parked a few feet away.
“You drive that?” The man’s voice growled behind her. “Well, I hope you can handle driving a Jeep better than riding a ferry.”
Devon brushed off the snide comment. “Hey,” she called to him as he grabbed the door handle of a white pickup truck parked in the row in front of her. “Do you live on Shell Island?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Yeah, what of it?” He slid into the driver’s seat without uttering another word.
Great. She cringed at the thought of running into him again. Devon hopped in her Jeep, packed with the few belongings she had bothered to bring. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel and began to count the seconds until she was on dry land again.
Did you like what you read? Would you like to read more? You can purchase your copy of Asylum Harbor at the following locations.