Jasper Beach, Maine — where quiet moments linger and mysteries begin.

Settle in and take a quiet moment by the coast.

Here’s a printable coloring page inspired by the Great Maine Mysteries.

Jasper Beach is calling Emily.

Read the excerpt from Murder Most Eastern below:

“Turn around when possible,” the robotic voice interrupted, slicing through the damp air as thunder rumbled overhead. My windshield wipers skittered frantically across the glass, struggling to keep up with the downpour.

I slowed down on the narrow, two-lane road, squinting past the rain drops in search of a place to turn around.

My first day in Maine wasn't going as planned. I’d already been unsure about accepting this unexpected inheritance, and the storm only made me feel more uneasy. My struggle to navigate the Downeast region wasn't helping either.

With a shake of my head, I cursed my sister Rebecca’s untimely death that prompted the bequeathing of her old house, with all its secrets.

I’d never been to visit her since she bought the two-story Victorian.  

With a grumble, I continued along the road, fighting the rain as the robotic voice continued to badger me.  

“This is why I chose to live in a city, Becky,” I mumbled as I continued down the bumpy road with no turn-around in sight.  What was I thinking, moving out here?

But I’d left my Bostonian life behind, trading my one-room apartment that was way overpriced for having roaches and rats to move into the wilds of Maine.  I needed a change and more money than my artwork provided.

Guilt had eaten away at me, too, when I’d heard of my sister’s untimely death.  I thought we’d have plenty of time, yet here I was at thirty-four alone in the world.  My sister hadn’t even made it to her forties.  

Tears burned my eyes again as I veered to the side of the road and eased my car to a stop.  

As I sniffled for the dozenth time since I’d heard about Becky’s death, a car buzzed past me, leaving a wide berth and offering a wave as they passed my beat-up clunker.  

With a creased forehead, I automatically raised a hand back, wondering why they had waved and not flipped a crass gesture like I would have gotten in the city.  

A shaky sigh slipped from my lips as I wiped the tears from my cheeks and turned to check the road behind me. Empty, unsurprisingly. In this area, it was a wonder I had seen even one car. Since I hadn’t passed another vehicle the entire time I’d been traveling, I could probably turn around right here in the middle of the road, without risking my life or getting yelled at. I lifted my foot off the break and whipped my car around, turning back in the correct direction to satisfy the demands of my my GPS.  

“Your destination is ahead on the left,” she said after being appeased.  

I huffed with a roll of my eyes.  “No kidding.  But where?”

“You will arrive at your destination in four hundred and fifty feet.”

I wrinkled my nose at the screen.  “That means nothing to me.”

Why GPS’s insisted on giving you distances that seemed meaningless was beyond me.  I had no idea how to gauge this.  Before I could think more about this flaw in the system, the voice was yapping at me that I’d arrived at my destination.  

I slammed on my brakes, bracing myself against the steering wheel as I searched for the driveway.  

After squinting, I spotted the tip of the house hidden behind the hill and the gravel driveway.  

I swung my car into the driveway, the tires crunching over the stones.  Just clipping the grass on the side, I bounced toward the house, praying my shocks would hold up.  

The pristine white Victorian stood out against the gray skies and the lush green grass, the scent of fresh rain mingling with the salty sea air.  I ducked to take in the large windows, some featuring charming window boxes.  A spacious porch wrapped around the side of the house toward the back which faced the sea.  A short path led to the pebble-covered shore of Jasper Beach.

Read more of Murder Most Eastern.

Some houses carry more than memories.

This one has watched generations come and go—families arriving, leaving, and sometimes disappearing without ever truly being gone. Names change. Stories fade. But the house remembers where it stands, and what came before.

Emily believes she arrived in Maine by chance. An inheritance. A coincidence. A place she never meant to call home.

But there are threads woven through this coastline that run deeper than she knows. Roots that stretch farther back than the stories she’s been told. And connections to Maine that haven’t yet been revealed.

For now, the truth waits quietly—tucked away like old belongings in the attic.

Not forgotten.

Just waiting to be found.

Emily doesn’t seek out the visions.

They come without warning—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore. When the tourmaline bracelet is against her skin, the world sometimes slips away, replaced by something else entirely.

She sees it.

Not a feeling. Not a hunch. A clear, vivid image that takes hold of her mind, pulling her out of the present for a heartbeat—or longer. Sounds dull. Time stretches. And when the vision releases her, she’s left blinking, breathless, trying to piece together what she’s just witnessed.

The bracelet doesn’t show her everything.
It offers fragments. Moments torn from another time or place.

Some visions make sense immediately. Others linger, unsettling and incomplete, revealing their meaning only when it’s almost too late.

In Great Maine, seeing the truth doesn’t always make things easier.
Sometimes, it makes them far more dangerous.

Grayson isn’t just a character in the Great Maine Mysteries.
She’s real.

Fifteen years ago, she appeared outside my kitchen window—tiny, scruffy, and clearly not just a lost kitten. She was a malnourished young mother with four babies, and she made herself comfortable beneath a tree until I noticed her.

Once she decided I was acceptable staff, Grayson moved herself—and all four kittens—into the house at the first opportunity.

She’s been with us ever since.

If you’re wondering whether her attitude in the books is exaggerated… it isn’t. Grayson truly does stomp from room to room and announce her displeasure with a sharp, unmistakable meow, usually directed at whoever has most recently inconvenienced her.

Some cats are adopted.
Grayson did the adopting.

Many of the places Emily visits in the Great Maine Mysteries aren’t imagined—they’re real locations woven into the story.
• Helen’s Restaurant is a real spot in Machiasport.
• Charlotte and Charlotte’s Legendary Lobster Pound are real.
• Devon Biggs is an actual meteorologist based in Bangor, Maine.
• The Breeze is a real location, owned and run by the real-life Snow and Kermit, who appear just as themselves.
• Angelo’s Pizza Grille is also a real place.

And yes—every lighthouse mentioned in the series truly exists. Many other locations visited by Bill, Emily, and Martha can be found along the Maine coast as well.

Even Emily’s home has roots in reality. The house she lives in was inspired by a real house on Jasper Beach, whose presence helped shape the setting and atmosphere of the series.

Blending real places with fiction allows the story to feel grounded—like these mysteries could be unfolding just beyond the page.

Emily has learned that the smallest details often matter the most

Take a moment and see how observant you are.

Can you find the hidden objects tucked into this coastal scene?

Start your journey along the Maine coast with the Great Maine Mysteries, best read in order.

Start with Murder Most Eastern
.

Thanks for exploring the house.

As a small thank-you for stopping by, enjoy 20% off anything in the Great Maine shop.

Use code: GREATMAINE20

Whether you’re picking up a book, a bundle, or something cozy inspired by the series, this one’s just for you.

Shop the Great Maine Mysteries Collection