About the Book
Title: The Other Side of Summer
Author: Elyse Douglas
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Joanna Halloran, a best selling writer and astrologer, lives in a beach house overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. After a violent storm, she roams the beach, glances seaward and spots a man clinging to a piece of wreckage, being tossed helplessly. She dives in and pulls him to safety. Robert Zachary Harrison is from a wealthy, political family. As he slowly recovers from a private plane crash, he and Joanna fall in love and spend passionate and secluded weeks together. But because of family duty, Robert departs, not knowing Joanna is pregnant.
Twenty five years later, Senator Robert Harrison is running for President of the United States. In the midst of a contentious presidential campaign, Joanna’s beautiful daughter, who has a passion to expose secrets, seeks revenge on the father she has never met. She also begins a passionate relationship with her father’s adopted son.
Joanna and Robert must confront the past and present. While the world watches, they struggle with old passions and new secrets that could destroy them both.
Elyse Douglas is the pen name for the married writing team Elyse Parmentier and Douglas Pennington. Elyse grew up near the sea, roaming the beaches, reading and writing stories and poetry, receiving a degree in English Literature. She has enjoyed careers as an English teacher, an actress and a speech-language pathologist. Douglas has been a musician, a graphic designer and an equity trader.
Elyse Douglas, have completed seven novels: The Summer Diary, Christmas for Juliet, Wanting Rita, Christmas Ever After, The Christmas Town, The Christmas Diary and The Other Side of Summer.
Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1KdVjvg
Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R90y3L6eC_U
Joanna roamed the beach in the windy, unstable afternoon, shading her eyes as she viewed the expanse of sea. It was after and the beach was deserted. The waves were breaking heavy on the shore. It was one of her favorite times to walk the beach—just after a storm. She drifted to the edge of the tide as waves splashed and foamed around her ankles. The water was cool and refreshing and helped to ease some of the aching in her right foot. She strolled with her hands locked behind her back, squinting into the gray moving sky. She watched the raw surf curve and break across the beach, observing sandpipers skitter along the edge of the foam, pecking for food.
She lifted the binoculars to her eyes and scanned the horizon, looking at white caps and distant sails. Smoky white and purple wisps of clouds hugged the horizon. She picked at the shells and toed the sand, exploring the stringy seaweed, driftwood and plastic trash, all pushed to shore by the storm. Again she pointed her binoculars toward the sea. She spotted something bobbing in the waves.
She jolted erect, adjusting the focus. At first she thought it was a kayak. She moved toward the water, straining her eyes. Was it some kind of raft? The current was drawing it toward the shore.
Her eyes shifted, and then focused. She saw a body—a person—clinging to a piece of something, floating in toward the beach. It drifted toward a large swell, was seized by the current and then tossed helplessly, bobbing and twisting in a surging wave. It was a man! He was desperately holding on.
Joanna dropped her bag and binoculars, darted into the water, plunged into the cold surf and swam toward him. Coming up for air, she saw him clinging to a piece of debris, wearing an orange life preserver.
As she closed in, another wave struck, smashing down on top of them, spinning him away from her. She dropped under the wave, came up, recovered and relaxed, feeling her shirt swimming around her. She allowed the current to do the work; to carry her in the same direction as the man. Drawing near, she kicked and swam, using all her strength to reach him, before the next charging waves impacted. One threatened, gathering rolling strength, rumbling toward them like thunder. The man reached for her weakly, arms flailing, his pallid face stretched in agony.
“Help me…,” he called.
With her outstretched hand, she reached and snagged him by the collar of his shirt. She yanked him toward her.
The wave struck. Joanna wrapped him with her arms as it pounded them, shoving them carelessly toward the beach.
Together, they thrashed toward shore, gasping. Catching her breath, Joanna struggled to her feet, stumbling for balance across the rocky bottom. Anchoring herself, she helped the man to find his footing. She wrapped an arm around his waist and led him up the beach to safety.
Back at the house, Joanna removed the pants and shirts from the bags and handed them to Robert. They didn’t speak. When Robert left the living room to try on the clothes, Joanna sat, stood and paced with the adolescent body language of desire and nerves.
Robert emerged, feigning a playful, rakish charm, and their eyes danced and their faces grew flush. He stood in olive green Khakis and a yellow polo shirt, and for a moment, Joanna allowed herself to think that she and Robert would fall in love and grow old together. It was a thought she’d never had before; not this exceptional and private thought—not even with her first husband.
When Robert approached and leaned toward her, intimately, she grew in height. “Joanna…I don’t want to go just yet. I don’t want to call them…They’re out there—way out there—somewhere. I don’t want to go back. Not now.”
Joanna’s lips parted, as their private passion expanded. “Then don’t go back. Don’t ever go back.”
Joanna’s muscles softened. She leaned against the door of her heart and it opened, releasing the blazing light of desire that she’d tried to smother. She could already feel Robert’s breath on her. She could hear his voice in her ear, calling her name in the night. She could feel his hands exploring her, finding her, delighting her.
It was clear, in that little doorway of light, that she’d always wanted him. She would reach for him and close the door behind them.
His face moved close to hers. She felt his warm breath. She felt the raw sexual power of him, silently reaching for her. His lips lightly brushed hers. She shivered. She ached for him. Her eyes went vague and unfocused and she closed them, feeling the sting of tears when his tongue slipped between her lips and probed her mouth.
She traced his cheekbones with her hand, touched his hair and ears, fading from consciousness to a rising ecstasy. He broke the kiss gently, and reached for her hand.