Storiebook Charm
A Spellbound Novel 1
by Melissa Bourbon
Genre: Light Paranormal Romance
From National Bestselling author Melissa Bourbon comes a small town magical story with a heart-stopping hero, a sigh-worthy romance, beautiful writing, and characters that jump off the page. Get ready to be charmed by Storie and Reid, and watch out for the twist!
Storie Bell is a witch. Not the kind that lives in Harry Potter's world. No, she is more like Glinda, the good witch of the North, minus the munchkins and Dorothy. But a witch trying to blend in in a small southern town is no easy feat. She’s grown up believing that mortals and witchcraft don't mix.
Storie thinks the biggest threat to her future—opening The Storiebook Cafe, where happy endings begin— is Reid Malone, the very man she ran away from years before. He seems hell bent on getting in the way of her bookstore’s grand opening. But when a mysterious woman from Storie’s past shows up and makes claims that leave Storie confused, she rethinks her entire future.
Read a Sample of Storiebook Charm…
Prologue
Eight years ago…
Whiskey Creek,
Texas, wasn’t far from Austin, but to Reid Malone, it might as well have been
light years away. Thank God for the lake. No matter how much he hungered for
city life, this place—especially on a day like today—was his solace.
He parked on the bluff in between the trees near the old haunted fishing
cabin, popped open a beer, and readied his fishing pole. Maybe it was college
life and worrying only about himself that he missed when he was stuck in his
hometown. Back here he had his dad and the bar to worry about. He needed to
earn a little cash over the summer, but he was already counting the days till
he could get back to the city and put his newly minted diploma to use.
Dark clouds pooled in the distance. A storm was coming in, and it made
him breathe easier. There was nothing like the vast Texas sky. In the distance,
loud rolling thunder cracked and flashes of lightning streaked through it.
Before long, the sky would open, the rain would fall, and the temperature would
drop twenty degrees in a matter of minutes. Being here helped put things in
perspective for him. The big sky and the power of the storm helped him to not
take things so seriously and made the long summer months ahead seem manageable.
The thunder cracked again, and that’s when he saw her.
Storie Bell.
She tore over the dirt road in her daddy’s beat-up old truck, the tires
kicking dirt until she skidded to a stop not a hundred yards from him. But she
never looked his way. He cast out his line, just watching her. She had to be
twenty years old now. What was she was
doing here by herself?
It took her a good while to get out of the cab, but when she did, he
nearly dropped his pole. He’d seen Storie around town a few times and he knew
she was pretty in an offbeat way, but now? In her cutoff jeans and white
T-shirt knotted below her breasts—luscious, beautiful breasts, from what he
could see—she was all curves and flesh and bronzed skin. Her hair, like no
color he’d ever seen, shimmered in the fading afternoon sunlight. The coppery
tint was almost otherworldly, he thought, leaning forward in his lawn chair.
He’d heard tales about her strange behavior and quirky habits, but all he
could think was that she was a damn siren. A girl next door who could bring a
man to his knees with one crook of her finger.
She released the tailgate and climbed into the back of her daddy’s truck,
standing on the edge, raising her arms like she was trying to harness the
thunder that was slowly rolling in. At first he thought she was just trying to
capture a breeze and stay cool in the humid July heat, but then the clouds
moved faster and turned in the sky in time with her rotating hands. He couldn’t
tell what she was up to, but a silent alarm sounded in his head. “What the
hell?”
He was so enthralled that he finally gave up trying to fish. He tossed
what was left of his beer into the garbage and moved into the shadows of the
trees. She might need help, he reasoned. What woman came out to the lake in
this kind of weather unless something was wrong?
His attention never wavered as he got closer. God, she was beautiful. And
now he had the best view he could get out here in the open. He didn’t know her,
and certainly wouldn’t act on his attraction for her, but hell if he didn’t
want to memorize every last detail of her face and body now that he was seeing
it spotlighted as she stood on the tailgate.
She moved like a blade of grass, softly swaying in the fading sunlight.
Her arms stretched upward, her head tilted back. She stiffened, just for a
split second, and a shudder passed through her. Thunder cracked overhead, a
flash of lightning sparked through the dark clouds…was it seconds later?
He stared at the
sky. That wasn’t right. The order was wrong. Lightning came first. Thunder came
from the shock wave from the heat, then cooled off the lightning bolt.
Before he could
wonder about it any more, Storie jumped down from the tailgate and plowed
headlong into the lake. Somewhere in the distance, a cat wailed, as if sounding
the alarm. Shit. Reid jumped up, starting toward the water’s edge. “Christ,
woman, what are you doing? You don’t swim during a lightning storm!”
She kept going, striding forward against the force of the water. He
froze, waiting. Watching. She stalked through the muck, finally bringing her
arms overhead and diving under the water.
A network of light broke through the clouds, a crash of thunder
following. The right order this time. Maybe he’d imagined the reversal.
His breath clogged his throat as he counted to ten in his head, waiting
for her to break the surface. Ten came and went. And then fifteen. He searched
the dark water. Where the hell was she?
Something had to have really upset her for her to come up to the lake
alone with a storm brewing, and what in the damnation had she been trying to do
up there on the tailgate? Had she been drinking? Was she trying to get
electrocuted? Could she even swim? Oh, Christ, if she were drowning…
Without another thought, he ripped off his shirt as he raced to the
water’s edge.
He just hoped they both didn’t get electrocuted.
He dove under the water, but it was brown and murky and he couldn’t see.
He swam, breaking the surface to get some air, then ducking down again to keep
searching. Above him, the sky flashed with light. The boom of the thunder
traveled through the water like a muffled drum.
For a brief moment, the lightning allowed him to see under the water, but
there was no sign of her. Panic swarmed his cells until he could hardly think.
He was too late.
But then his arm brushed something that recoiled from his touch. Storie!
He kicked off the soft, smooth bottom, pushing himself in the direction
he thought she’d gone. He peered in front of him, frantically searching until
he made contact again. This time, he shot upward, dragging in a ragged breath
and getting his bearings.
The clouds had grown darker, but it was still light enough to see.
Bubbles popped where he thought she was. So she’d come up for air. He lunged,
but then stopped as her head appeared, breaking through the surface of the
water. And then, just as he’d imagined it, she rose like a mermaid, water
cascading off her dark hair, off her skin, off the T-shirt clinging to her
body.
“You’re okay.” He exhaled, catching his breath and reorganizing his
thoughts.
Wide-eyed, she gasped, turning to him. He wasn’t positive, but her eyes
looked red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. She blinked and sank back down so
that only her shoulders and head were above water. Her eyebrows knitted
together and she dipped her chin, peering at him. “Reid Malone? Is that you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before asking, “What in tarnation are you doing?
You scared me half to death!”
And just like that, she’d turned the tables, making him feel guilty for
trying to help her. “I thought you were drowning.”
“I wasn’t.” She’d reached the part of the lake where she could stand.
This time when she rose from the water, she was like a phoenix, all fire and
glory against the backdrop of the orange, yellow, and red streaking the
horizon. She walked toward her truck, water dripping from her cutoffs, from the
white T-shirt still knotted at her rib cage.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, coming out of the water behind her. He
swallowed, stifling every bit of his physical reaction to seeing her. “Next
time you’re not drowning,” he said with a low growl, “I’ll just leave you to
it.”
She stopped at the tailgate, putting one hand on the edge of the beat-up
truck, and then, like the damn siren he knew she was, she turned to face him.
“You do that, Reid,” she said, real slow, her soft Southern accent as luscious
as her body. Her gaze flicked to his chest—and below, before rising to his eyes
again. “You take yourself a good long look, because this has been a crap day.
I’m leaving Whiskey Creekin the morning, and this is the last you’ll ever see
of me.”
He heard what she said. Crap day. Leaving Whiskey Creek. But all he could
do was swallow and drink her in. Long legs, curvy hips in those low-rise shorts
heavy with water, the corners of the pockets slipping down farther than the
edge of the shorts themselves. And that T-shirt, sticking to her body,
plastered against her curves.
Oh yeah, he took a good long look—every bit of her seared into his brain,
from the light dusting of freckles across her nose to the beauty mark on her
stomach.
And everything in between.
Melissa Bourbon, the author of the Magical Dressmaking Mysteries (A Seamless Murder, A Killing Notion, A Custom-Fit Crime, Deadly Patterns), sometimes answers to her Latina-by-marriage name, Misa Ramirez. She gave up teaching middle and high school kids in northern California to write full-time amid horses and Longhorns in north Texas. She fantasizes about spending summers writing in quaint, cozy locales, has a love-hate relationship with yoga and chocolate, is devoted to her family, and can’t believe she’s lucky enough to be living the life of her dreams.
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I enjoy this genre, sounds good!
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