Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Eloise Harris, a talented artist, returns to her beloved hometown of Seaport after years away. With her aunt's prestigious art showcase, the "Endless Summer Exhibit," on the horizon, Eloise is determined to make her mark and catch the attention of art school deans. Little does she know that this summer will be filled with unexpected love and life-changing decisions.
Kiel Collier finds himself in Seaport for an extended family vacation, seeking solace by the sea as his mother battles illness. But when he crosses paths with Eloise on the pier, their lives intertwine in ways neither of them could have imagined. From stolen glances to secret rendezvous, they embark on a passionate affair against the backdrop of sunsets and sandy shores.
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one
Eloise stood at the bow and spread her arms out wide. The wind was on the ferocious side that day, pushing the loose strands of her hair all over the place and making her jacket flap, which sounded like birds flying close by. She could barely catch her breath and was afraid to smile out of fear she’d eat bugs as a midday snack. This was her Titanic moment, and something she had always dreamed about doing since she watched the movie as a little girl with her aunt, Margeaux. Growing up, they spent Friday nights with a bucket of fried chicken and a movie. Saturdays were for painting, along with every other day of the week.
The ferry jostled and Eloise caught herself laughing as she gripped the railing.
“Are you okay?” a woman behind her asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Eloise picked up her backpack and moved aside as the woman took her spot at the bow and posed for a photo. Eloise sighed and wished she had handed someone her cell phone for a photo. But then again, that would mean she would've had to charge it before she left London. She had one percent of battery left when she sent her last text to her aunt, telling her she was on her way. Her phone died before she even boarded the plane and the charger she needed wasn't in her bag.
Eloise considered going into the seating area but stayed where she was and took in the sights as the ferry sailed toward town. She hadn't been back to the picturesque town of Seaport in three years, not since her parents divorced and her mom moved to London and her father went to Iowa for work. They had given Eloise the choice to move with either parent. She chose London because it seemed like a better fit for her. At least there, she had a plethora of landscapes to paint.
Only she hated it. She missed Seaport, her friends—even though they hadn’t kept in contact—and her aunt. They were exceptionally close and shared a love of art, especially in the painted form.
Eloise was truly experiencing the full trains, planes, and automobiles modes of transportation, except she hadn’t yet had to use a car. While she could’ve ordered a rideshare, she opted for the ferry. Her journey started when she boarded a plane in London and flew into Logan International Airport. She hopped the train to Providence, and then grabbed the ferry to Seaport. Eloise figured the crisp fresh air would help with her jetlag. In a couple of hours, she knew she would be dead on her feet from exhaustion.
The thirty-mile trek on the ferry was more beautiful than she had remembered, and she wished she could set her easel up on the deck and capture the majestic beauty before her. The sun sat at the perfect angle, right above the treeline, but not too high in the sky that you couldn’t escape it. Boats of all kinds cruised past, with some sailors waving at the massive ferry. Eloise waved back because why not? She used to do the same thing as a kid and loved getting the attention in return.
When the ferry entered the bay, Eloise smiled, tipped her head back, and sighed. She was finally home and had no intentions of leaving, even though she told her aunt she would be there for the summer. Her parents wanted her to go to college. Eloise had no idea what she wanted to do, except paint. She hated structured learning, but also knew the doors a degree could open for her.
Shortly, the famous Seaport bridge came into view and the voice of the ferry captain came over the public address system, notifying passengers they were almost at their destination. While most people rushed to stand at the entrance, Eloise waited. She had a mountain of luggage and had no desire to maneuver it around people. One case carried most of her art supplies: her favorite brushes, the portfolio her grandfather had given her filled with renderings and paintings, and the palette she used. Another had her clothes, well those she could fit in it. The desk agent at the airport had frowned at her when she set her luggage on the scale. Both were over the limit. Not that Eloise cared. Everything she packed was important to her. The rest, the things she left behind in London, were inconsequential and had memories she didn’t care to remember. She slung her backpack over her shoulders, hefted a bag onto the handle of one of the suitcases, and readied herself for shoulder pain.
Finally, they approached the bustling harbor, with fishing and touring boats coming and going. As they port came closer, Eloise saw just how busy her former town was. People walked the streets or rode scooters. Horns honked and traffic backed up for what appeared to be for miles.