by T. A. Foster
Date? Who?
I waited for Gina to shoot back a message, but the phone was silent. It was time to head downstairs. One last mirror check and I was out the door. Butterflies flitted around my stomach, making it hard to stand still in my five-inch heels as I descended to the lobby. I was so excited about seeing the movie tonight.
The elevator doors retracted, and I walked into the lobby. The front desk clerk nodded at me and gave me a smile. I was having images of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman as I lifted my chin, pulled back my shoulders, and carried myself through the elegant boutique hotel. Only, I was missing Richard Gere and the private jet to the opera. Speaking of, where were Gina and the answer to my text? I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of her springing a surprise date on me at the last minute. I was nervous enough.
I had opted to stay somewhere other than Hotel François on this trip. There were too many memories there. I didn’t think I’d be able to step through that revolving door without remembering all of the worried hours I spent waiting for Emmy, or the nights I spent wrapped up with Finn. That was six months ago and this was a happy trip, a fun trip. I wanted to make new memories in a new place. I hadn’t bumped into anyone from the movie crew here, and it was a relief to have slivers of anonymity wherever I could find them.
If the Masquerade premiere was going to be anything like the Vegas Star premiere, I knew I was in for a night of Hollywood glitz, glamour, and razzle-dazzle. The doorman nodded, and held open the oversize glass and brass door. The sun was starting to set and cast an orange hue over New Orleans. I squinted a bit to catch my bearings as I walked into the late afternoon air.
My cocktail bag was loaded with powder, lip gloss, touch-up mascara, and my phone. I clutched it under my arm. The fall air was a little chilly, and I was regretting not bringing a wrap. Holly adamantly pleaded with me not to cover up any part of the dress for my red carpet walk.
“Holly, I’m not even part of the star lineup. You realize that, right?” I had tried to give her the lowdown on how this would play out. I was slightly seasoned at this.
“Girl, stop being modest. It doesn’t matter if you are Emmy Harper or not, this is your night. It’s your movie, your words.” She lowered her voice. “And your Time Spell.”
Where was my cousin now when the breezy winds were picking up off the river? Hmmm… and where was my car? I was sure I was going to be late.
Just as I was about to retrieve my phone so I could call Gina, the long, black stretch limousine pulled up to the curb. Finally! I need to get to the theater, and we still had to make it through the downtown streets.
I waited for the driver to exit and open the back passenger door for me, but he sat in the car with his hands locked on the steering wheel at ten and two. Well, I would have to open the door myself. I started to make my way to the end of the limousine when I heard the latch of the car rattle from the inside. Slowly, the car door opened. I saw a man’s shoe hit the pavement. Then I saw him standing on the sidewalk, holding the door open for me.
“Hi. Need a ride?” His dark chestnut eyes smiled at me. Looking in them felt like home. I stopped in awe, drinking in his tall, broad frame in a perfectly starched tux. I could tell he had just shaved; there was no trace of the five o’clock shadow that usually gave him that rugged, oh-so-sexy, outdoorsy look.
“Jack? What are you doing here?” I had to hold myself back from the utter joy I felt when I saw him.
Those butterflies in my stomach might actually take flight and create lift off. I wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, but that could be an embarrassing scene for both of us. In sharp succession, the butterflies’ wings were clipped when I remembered the nightmares and the Foresight that had kept me from having moments like this with Jack. For a second, I let the smile drop from my lips.
“Sorry if I’m crashing your big night.” He paused. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea without talking to you first.” I saw the little worry crinkles form on the sides of his eyes. “Gina mentioned it, and I kind of volunteered and now I’m thinking…”
“No! I mean, no.” I quieted my snappy response. “It’s the perfect surprise.”
I was overreacting. It had been months since the last bad dream awakened me in a cold sweat. This wasn’t sharing my magic, or inviting him to hunt Proxies or evil beings. Maybe it was more than our casual office exchange, but he was here because of Gina, because of work. I wasn’t breaking any rules tonight.
I worried my outburst would cause him to disappear into the limousine and dart back to Sullen’s Grove. But he stood, planted firmly by the car, watching my every movement. He wasn’t leaving.
How many times had I stopped myself from playing walk-down-memory-lane with Jack? Standing this close to him, glimpsing bits of his feelings for me and knowing our attraction to each other, made the distance I had been keeping from him seem that much farther. In Las Vegas, he had opened up about how he had felt about me since the first time we met. I knew all of this time he was hiding behind his professional relationship wall. Maybe he was ready to emerge on his own without my witchy prodding. Way overthinking this, Ivy. He looks hot, and he flew all the way from Sullen’s Grove. Just have fun for the night.
My decision made, I walked to my surprise date to give him my hand, but he stopped me.
“You might not know this about me, but I’m kind of an old-fashioned guy.” I stifled a giggle, remembering this was the same speech he gave me in the Starlight penthouse. “So, let me start over.”
He straightened his tie and adjusted his collar. “Ivy Grace, will you please allow me to accompany you to the premiere of your clever, flawlessly written, and critically acclaimed movie tonight?” He cleared his throat, and I thought I saw brushes of crimson surfacing on his cheeks. “As work colleagues, of course.”
This time I did giggle. Oh, Jack, always the consummate professional. I played along with his work charade. I had become quite practiced at it since Vegas. Plus, it helped to calm the red flag that was rippling in the back of my mind.
I tilted my chin toward him, smiled, and projected my best flirty attempt to make him squirm. “Of course, Mr. Coleman. I would be delighted to attend the premiere with you.” I winked. “As colleagues.”
Well, I couldn’t expect him to do a complete one-eighty. Professional relationship or not, I was going to enjoy being on the arm of my handsome and sexy editor even if it was only for one night.
And with that, I placed my hand in his, ducked into the car, and drove off into the New Orleans sunset, toward the red carpet. Yes, there was no doubt that New Orleans was the perfect place to heal a broken heart.
A Page from Ivy Grace’s Spell Journal
CHARM * Finn’s convincing way of persuasion.
ECLIPSE * Seals the seam.
ERASE * A girl’s best way to clean a room and make sure there’s no trace she was ever there.
ERASER * Holly’s answer to erasing memories, which need to be forgotten.
EXTINGUISH * Quickest and easiest way to turn out the lights, anything electrical really.
FADE * The only way I know how to make myself invisible. Also, involves lots of shimmering, a plus I think.
GLAMOUR * By far, the best spell ever! Makeup, hair, clothes all in perfect order.
GUARDIAN * Performed as a protection spell only by those who can protect, like Finn.
ILLUMINATE * Comes in handy when a girl needs a floating flashlight.
LOCALITY * This one I borrow from my brother. With a little help of a personal object, we can usually find someone’s location on a map.
OPEN * There are those times when you need to get in a locked door or drawer.
RADIANCE * When it’s time to get back in the real world, this sheds the awesome shimmer from the FADE SPELL.
REMEDY * Cool way to repair things I’ve broken (accidentally, of course).
REVEAL * Definitely, the only security system I really trust. The orangey glow particles let me know when someone has stopped b
y.
STUN * I like having a little defense in my back pocket. Still working out my stunning speed.
TWINKLE * Love this one! Throws the night sky on my ceiling wherever I am.
UNFOLD * Opens the seam.
VOILA * I borrow this from Mama every once in a while. It’s great in a hostess pinch! Sets the table, lights candles, might even pour a glass of wine.
Reader Discussion Questions
Besides Ivy’s ring, what symbolic elements of time are in the book?
Do you think Ivy made the right decision in the hotel lobby given the choice between Evan and Finn?
Did Josette have any other options in 1945 other than running away?
Do you have any sympathy for the Consulate Henri? What about Meyers?
If you were Ivy, would you have forgiven Finn for what happened in Savannah?
The Shadow Quest is real for Finn, but can you see it as a metaphor for elements in a relationship?
Do you agree with Madame Chantilly’s “all or nothing” policy to protect her mother’s spells?
Ivy blames herself for what happened to Tommy Nichols. What decisions in her life have been influenced by her first Foresight?
I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful team behind my writing. For every word I type, there are multiple sets of eyes on it, giving me feedback, criticism, and suggestions.
My editor, H. Danielle Crabtree, pushes my writing to be better with each sentence. She might not be Jack Coleman, but I have a feeling she could out edit him any day. Thank you, Dani, for all of your advice and for making sure Ivy’s voice is understood.
Jessica at InkSlinger, thank you for your support and encouragement. Working with you has made this writing journey so much more fun.
Stephanie at Once Upon a Time Covers, you have brought Cover Spell to life in a picture. E.M. Tippetts Book Designs, you have turned this book into a magical reading experience. Thank you for the formatting.
I’m lucky to have such an encouraging sibling. Christopher, thank you for your comedic consultation and daily reinforcement. Never in a million years did I think I would get to thank you in the back of one of my books.
To my best writing partners in crime, Mary-Kathryn and Jennifer, please keep reading and consulting. Ivy wouldn’t be the same without you.
My dear sweet family, thank you for putting up with all of the craziness that comes along with the writing world. I know I couldn’t write without your support, and if I didn’t have it, there would be no reason to write. My husband is patient and giving beyond any fairytale I’ve ever read or could ever write. Thank you.
Last, but definitely not least, a huge thank you to all of the Ivy Grace fans. Thank you for reading!
T.A. Foster is a Southern girl whose heart and spirit are connected to the beach. She grew up catching rays and chasing waves along the North Carolina Outer Banks, and now resides in the state with her adventurous pilot husband, two children, and two canine kiddos.
You can follow the latest on T.A. Foster’s upcoming news and events:
www.tafosterauthor.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from Finding Haven, Evan Carlson’s story and an exclusive preview of Fire Spell (Book 3 in the Ivy Grace Spell Series).
Power. Money. Control. Love.
He has all but one.
When movie star, Evan Carlson, discovers his girlfriend’s picture with another man splashed on the cover of gossip magazines, he decides he’s had enough of his fishbowl life and attempts to outrun the media frenzy his relationships have become. Driving until the road stops, he ends up on the remote and quaint Perry Island, where a heartthrob can blend in like the locals and be a beach bum as long as he wants. All that changes when Evan meets Haven Owen, aspiring songwriter and the girl he just can’t get enough of. A summer romance turns into something much deeper and Evan gets tangled in his own web of lies to keep Haven in his life. But when his ex tracks him down, Evan learns there are some things you just can’t outrun.
Is the cost of love, losing all control?
SULLEN’S GROVE. It was only one exit ahead. The burning sensation had crept to both eyes. Eight hours of driving had that effect. There had only been one stop since Evan set off this morning, and he had made that as quickly as possible—enough time to stretch his legs and convince himself heading north was the right direction.
Evan rubbed his tired eyes before reaching for his cell phone.
There were ten missed calls and too many texts to count. He gripped the phone in his fist. The tightening in his chest wrapped under his ribs and pressed against his sternum, forcing the clamped breath he was holding to escape through his mouth.
When he saw the city’s name splayed across the sign in front of him, his hand relaxed its hold on the phone. Ivy wouldn’t expect his call much less expect him to be only miles from her hometown. She always talked about Sullen’s Grove as if it was the most idyllic place in the world to grow up and live. There were oak-lined streets, artsy shops, even a downtown waterfront where you could buy ice cream and stroll along the boardwalk. The whole time they dated, he had never visited. Maybe that was part of the problem. She had tried; she had invited him. So why, after all these months, was Sullen’s Grove the one place he thought he could find safe harbor?
Pausing before making the call, he debated again whether dragging Ivy into this was such a good idea. She would help, she would want to help, but she didn’t deserve this mess. He tossed the phone into the open passenger’s seat, and twisted the knob on the radio. Ivy would forgive him. Hell, she might not ever know he had driven by without stopping.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her; she was the reason he was headed north and east from Atlanta. She might be the only person who could understand why he had to make a run for it. Let’s be honest, that’s what this was—an escape plan—a full-blown sprint to find freedom. Later. He would call her later. With the Sullen’s Grove exit two miles behind him, Evan eased into the next convenient store he spotted on the side of the road. His legs could use another stretch.
A woman selling peaches at a makeshift produce stand smiled at him as he pulled the brim of his baseball cap firmly over his eyes and popped the cover on the gas tank. He didn’t think she recognized him. At least, she hadn’t reached for a cell phone. Her attention was on restacking a basket of peaches that had fallen too far forward.
He felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. He leaned against the blue Jeep that had become his travel companion only ten hours ago. It didn’t matter that he had paid too much for it. Fifteen thousand dollars cash in exchange for freedom was a bargain. Hopefully, the extra money would be enough to keep the seller from sharing the exchange to the tabloids.
The lever clicked on the gas hose handle. Evan retrieved the nozzle and slid it back into place on the pump. By now, the peaches were perfectly stacked. He sauntered over to the stand.
“What can I get you?” The older woman had shifted her task from stacking peaches to separating a sack of snap beans.
He eyed the rows of blueberries, peaches, and a carton of okra. “What do you recommend?”
The white-haired woman adjusted her visor. “You don’t sound like you’re from here.” She cocked her head.
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He swallowed hard, waiting for the inevitable—an autograph and a selfie shot request. He would have to work on camouflaging his accent. It wouldn’t be the first time he had disguised his deep Texas drawl.
She leaned over the table separating her from Evan, and placed the side of her hand against her cheek to shield the words from any eavesdroppers. “If you won’t say anything, I won’t say anything.” Her forehead furrowed. “These peaches are from South Carolina. We say everything’s local, but it’s not.”
Evan feigned shock and winked at the lady. “Your secret is safe with me.” He reached for one and tossed it in the air. “So, I guess I’ll take some of those illegal South Carolina peaches.”
“Good choice.” She p
laced a basket on the scale and scribbled the weight and price on a receipt. “That will be six dollars.” She picked up each peach and placed it inside a paper bag.
His wallet was halfway around his hip when he remembered all he had was one hundred dollar bills. “I—uh—do you take hundreds?” He pulled one of the crisp bills from his wallet. The plan was to use only cash, that way no one would see his name on his credit card or ask for his ID. Total anonymity was the game.
“For a basket of peaches?” The woman looked at the currency as if he had tried to pay with yen.
Evan smiled, realizing the predicament they were both in. He hadn’t bothered to bring anything with him other than a duffle bag and his phone. The longer he stood there, the more he wanted to try one of those infamous peaches. Sure, he was only twenty yards from the convenient store, but he wasn’t about to undo all of the hard work that had gone into perfecting his sculpted form for a bag of greasy chips.
“How ‘bout this, darlin’? You keep the change, and I’ll take two baskets of peaches.” He placed the bill next to the register.
“Oh, I can’t take that.” The pitch in her voice climbed an octave.
Evan didn’t give her a second chance to argue. He grabbed another basket, dumped the fruit into the paper bag, and strolled back to the Jeep. He cranked the ignition and maneuvered onto the highway, giving the produce lady a wave.