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Hatteras Girl

Hatteras Girl

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An excerpt from Hatteras Girl by Alice J. Wisler, published by Bethany House Publishers

Jackie Donovan prays for two things: an honest, wonderful man to marry and to own a bed-and-breakfast on the beautiful Outer Banks of North Carolina. In the meantime, she works for Lighthouse Views, writing articles about local business owners, and intrepidly goes on the blind dates set up by her well-meaning but oh-so-clueless relatives.

There's one specific property Jackie dreams of purchasing: The Bailey House, a fabulous old home located right next to the ocean, a place where Jackie spent many happy childhood afternoons. But the Bailey House has strange stories and secrets surrounding it—not to mention its outrageous price tag.

When Jackie meets handsome Davis Erickson, who holds the key to the Bailey property, she believes God has answered both her prayers. But as Jackie learns some disturbing details about Davis's past, she begins to wonder if her heart has lead her astray. Will she risk her long-held dreams to find out the truth?
An excerpt from Hatteras Girl by Alice J. Wisler, published by Bethany House Publishers

Jackie Donovan prays for two things: an honest, wonderful man to marry and to own a bed-and-breakfast on the beautiful Outer Banks of North Carolina. In the meantime, she works for Lighthouse Views, writing articles about local business owners, and intrepidly goes on the blind dates set up by her well-meaning but oh-so-clueless relatives.

There's one specific property Jackie dreams of purchasing: The Bailey House, a fabulous old home located right next to the ocean, a place where Jackie spent many happy childhood afternoons. But the Bailey House has strange stories and secrets surrounding it—not to mention its outrageous price tag.

When Jackie meets handsome Davis Erickson, who holds the key to the Bailey property, she believes God has answered both her prayers. But as Jackie learns some disturbing details about Davis's past, she begins to wonder if her heart has lead her astray. Will she risk her long-held dreams to find out the truth?

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Published by: Bethany House Publishers on Sep 01, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/19/2011

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 1
Seated at the mahogany counter 
on a wobbly barstool, I wait forMr. Wealthy and Available. As I sip my Diet Pepsi, I run my indexfinger across the grooves in the wood, pretending that I’m admiring the surface and the way the overhead lights bring out the soft shine.
Really, I’m eavesdropping. Other people’s conversations are wonder-
fully fun
particularly those of Outer Banks tourists.At a table near me, a father with a Boston accent tells his sonsthat tomorrow they’re going fishing in Pamlico Sound and then tosee the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. One of his sons slurps his drink and then asks when they’re going to see the alligators at the wildlife
place. I imagine he must be talking about Alligator River National
Wildlife Refuge.“Dad, you promised,” the boy says eagerly.Dad agrees, but not without clarifying the rules: “You two needto eat all your chicken tonight. And no texting at the table.
 James Taylor’s melodic “Carolina in My Mind” fills the restaurant,
but I tune my ears to other fragments of chatter.“I know he’s balding and a little round,” I hear a woman confess
 
10 
 Alice J. Wisler
to another at the right side of the bar. She sounds like she might befrom New York. “But I love the way he treats me.”
“He’s a Red Sox fan,” someone
I presume her friend
says with
disdain.
“I know,” comes the reply. “And my team will always be the
Orioles.” A sigh follows. “He told me I’m the glittery constellation inhis sky. Isn’t that romantic?”“That is.”“With true love, baseball shouldn’t matter.”
A giggle forms in my throat, and to squelch it, I quickly lower my
head, pick up my pen, and open my notebook. Flipping to a clean
page, I draw clusters of miniature globes, add stems to their bases,
and place leaves near the petals. After shading them with the tip of my pen, I’m pleased with the garden of geraniums I’ve created.
I’m not as pleased with my reason for being at the Sunnyside
Grille tonight. My aunt Sheerly has set me up with yet another man. Ihope this one will be all she claims he is. My relatives here in Hatteras
have a goal this year
to see a diamond on my finger by December31. They’re a bunch of sweet folks, worth far more than Blackbeard’streasures to me, and as hardworking as the summer sun. But lately,I think they’ve gone into overtime trying to find Mr. Right for me.
I don’t want to appear finicky; I appreciate their efforts and that’s
probably why I’ve been on four blind dates just this spring. Also, I’llbe thirty in August.The unsuspecting staff of the restaurant thinks I’m here writing up an article for
Lighthouse Views 
, the Nags Head magazine I work 
for. Betty Lynn, barely twenty-one and dressed in a pair of khakis and
a yellow T-shirt
the uniform for the Sunnyside Grille employees
stops beside me on her way to a table of guests. She whispers, “Always
busy writing. When are you going to interview me?”

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