Welcome Readers,
Stephanie Damore here and I'm excited to share with you the first chapter in my Mystic Inn series.
The series is set in the enchanted village of Silverlake—a place where a witch can find more than rest and relaxation. Nestled amongst the mature pecan groves and winding creeks are plenty of magical mishaps, spellbinding curses and bewitching spells. All of which offer tourists more than the travel brochures promised.
So let's dive in, shall we?
Make sure you're paying attention because at the end of the chapter, I'm going to ask you a question and tell you how to enter the giveaway.
Chapter One
“Nailed it,” Lacey said when we were the last two people remaining in the boardroom. “I don’t know how you do it. No one closes more deals than you. I swear, it’s magic,” my friend and associate quipped.
“Magic?” I scoffed. “Hard work and determination are more like it.”
“Whatever you say. But Dower Corp. was ready to book their convention at the Westin until you convinced them to talk to us first. Next thing you know, boom! Half a million-dollar contract for us. First the corner office and the next it’ll be the top floor. You’ll be an executive yet.”
I beamed under my associate’s praise. “Well, let’s not jinx it. They haven’t signed yet.”
“But you know they will,” Lacey said.
I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d be shocked at this point if they didn’t. I didn’t have time to dwell on that success, though. I had a lunch meeting with another potential client in twenty minutes, and I’d be lucky not to be late with Chicago’s traffic.
“Where’s the United file?” I asked Lacy after reaching my desk. I lifted up my leather padfolio and searched for the folder below it, but came up empty. With any luck, the airline would be hosting its elite members for a luxury weekend at the hotel before whisking their A-list fliers off to exotic locations. That is if I ever made it to the meeting on time.
“Oh, sorry about that. I think it’s on my desk. Let me go grab it.” Lacey walked briskly out of my office.
There was a knock on my door as Kevin, my assistant, peeked his head in.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Great, I think. They didn’t sign yet, but I’m pretty sure we got them.” I smiled as I continued scrambling for my next meeting. “They said they’d call with their decision shortly. Do not let that phone go to voicemail.” I pointed to the multiline telephone that sat on my desk. A couple of red lights blinked back, alerting me to a voicemail and another caller on the line.
“About that. There’s someone on the line that needs to speak with an Angelica?”
I stopped dead at the use of my formal name. The blood rushed out of my head. I steadied my fingertips on my desk.
“They said it was an emergency. Something about your aunt?”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll take it from here.”
Kevin nodded and ducked back out of my office. I scrambled after him to shut the door and raced back for the phone before anyone else accidentally picked up the call.
“Hello?” I spoke fast, and my voice sounded raspy.
“Angelica, is that you? Heaven’s child. I can barely hear you. Hello?” the older woman’s voice said.
“It’s me, Clemmie,” I said, recognizing my aunt’s best friend on the other line. I hadn’t spoken to her in a decade but had known her most of my life. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I’m afraid your aunt’s time has come. She’s asked me to call you home to say goodbye.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “What are you talking about? Aunt Thelma is fine.” She had to be. Nothing bad could ever happen to her. She was one powerful witch, and I was convinced she would live forever.
“I’m sorry, honey. You need to come home.”
“What? You’re not making any sense.” I lowered my voice even more. “What about Constance? She’s still around, isn’t she?”
“There are some things that even magic can’t heal. Can I tell her you’re on your way?”
I nodded before finding my voice. “Yeah. I’ll leave right now.”
“Oh, and Angelica?”
“Yeah?”
“Hocus pocus.”
“What?”
“New password to get into town.”
Oh, yeah. “Got it.” I didn’t bother to write the words down.
* * *
The good thing about living near one of the world’s busiest airports is that you can almost guarantee a same-day flight to any place in the continental United States. Instead of meeting with United, I took one of its direct flights from Chicago to Atlanta.
Feet back on southern soil and rental car keys in hand, I got behind the wheel of a white Mercedes-Benz and headed southeast toward Silverlake. It had been thirteen years since I’d been back, and my aunt’s dying wish was the only thing that could ever make me return.
Not that she was really dying.
I loved my aunt. Growing up, she was all that I had, and I wouldn’t believe she was on her deathbed until I saw her with my own two eyes. Us Nightingale women were a stubborn bunch.
I guess I would soon see for myself. In a little over an hour, I’d be back in my hometown. My stomach filled with dread as I repeated the words in my head—hometown.
Silverlake was enchanted. No, really. You wouldn’t find the town on a map or listed on any tourist website. That is, unless you were a witch. Witches were sure to have heard of it, but the good old normal folk—mortals—wouldn’t see it even if it was right in front of them thanks to the charms placed on the land. Not to mention the secret password, and even that changed with the seasons. No, Silverlake was a supernatural safe haven, a place where visitors and residents could escape the restrictive real world and be free to be who they truly were—witches.
As I navigated my highway exchange, curving off of I-75 and venturing onto the back road that would lead me straight to the enchanted town, my cell phone rang, and I saw that it was Allen, my boyfriend of sorts. We weren’t putting a label on it, and that was perfectly fine by me. Our relationship was very new, and what were we anyway, teenagers? Did people even refer to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend anymore? Well, regardless of the title, I had to take the call.
“Hello?” I said while being careful to keep my eyes on the road.
“Angela? Is everything all right? Your assistant told me you had to go out of town for a family emergency.”
I cursed Kevin under my breath, wishing he wouldn’t have even said as much. I worked hard to keep my past separate from my present, and I wasn’t about to let those wires cross anytime soon, if ever.
“Yeah, I did. It’s okay, I’m only going to be gone for the weekend. Do you want to meet for dinner Sunday night?” Allen was silent on the other end of the line. “Allen? Are you still there?”
“It’s just that Paulina’s isn’t open on Sunday evenings.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Paulina’s was Allen’s favorite restaurant. Make that the only restaurant we ever went to. What could I say? The man had high standards and a taste for fine Italian dining that only Paulina’s could deliver. “Maybe next Friday then.”
“Next Friday it is. You have an enjoyable visit with your family, and I look forward to reconnecting when you return.”
“So do I. Have a good weekend.” I hung up and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, where it landed with a soft plop before I reached for it once more. “Siri,” I said to my phone’s personal assistant, “remind me to send Kevin an email in an hour.”
“I’ll add it to your calendar,” the automated voice responded.
“Thank you.” It was time to remind my assistant to keep his mouth shut, especially to guys I was dating.
*Okay, that's the end of Chapter One. What do you think? I hope you enjoyed it. (You can continue reading the book for FREE on all major retailers BTW. I'll just drop that link here: books2read.com/u/bQyJlD)
Now, to enter to win a paperback copy of the book, tell me what big city is Angelica in at the start of the book? Put your answer in the comments section below. I'll announce the winner here in the blog comments section afternoon EST tomorrow. Be sure to check back and see if you won and don't forget, there's a new contest to enter each day! (Not to mention a gorgeous grand prize.) GOOD LUCK!
*****GIVEAWAY CLOSED********
Congrats to Katie Cunningham!
You won the paperback copy of the Witchy Reservations. Please email me the address you'd like the book to be sent to: steph.damore@gmail.com.
