October 3rd 2023

Paranormal Romance: Witches & Wizards

Paranormal Romance: General

Romance: Suspense

But but.. this was such a good read. Nicely paced and honestly this author knows how to write to keep the reader fully pulled in. I may have read this in one sitting and forgot about the world😅
I have received this ARC for an honest review, all thoughts/opinions above are my own. - Stephanie - GoodReads

This book let’s just say I loveee it!!! - Jenny - Amazon

Her garden survived.

No one could have been more surprised than Pru to see the flourish of green leaves springing up toward the sun. In her haste to return home to Maine, Pru neglected to ask her foreman, Hank, to tend her garden during her absence. The oversight didn’t hit her until she was on her way home, the shock of it left her breathless.

The acres of fields she farmed were necessary to her survival, and she worked them just as hard as the few farm hands she employed on a regular basis. But those fields were not her heart. No, her heart was in the small patch of earth just beyond her kitchen window.

Whenever Pru looked out her window, her vision filled with the vibrancy of life. Zucchini plants’ wide leaves, larger than a hand span, provide a cool shade for the bright yellow flowers blooming beneath them. Bold red tomatoes standing out against the deep green backdrop. Even the air perfumed with the fresh scent of herbs rejuvenated her.

While pulling into the drive, rocks sprayed out from the oversized tires of her dented pickup. Pru didn’t bother to retrieve her overstuffed suitcase from the scarred bed of the truck. She didn’t go into her house to drop her purse and reassess her life. She didn’t even try to feign an interest in her fields.

No, her focus was on getting to her heart, the magical vitality of her neglected garden, and what she would find. Her eyes brimmed with tears when she rushed to the back of the house, so sure she would find her beloved plants shriveled from the blistering sun.

When the patch of paradise came into view, Pru collapsed against the paint-weathered corner of her house in relief. Her eyes ate up the beautiful sight before her.

Not only had her garden survived in her absences, but it also flourished.

The heads of lettuce were full of deep green leaves, ready to be used in a fresh tossed salad. Her mouth began to water, imagining the cool, crisp leaves in her mouth. Pru’s gaze found the zucchini no longer hidden beneath the protective leaves but full and heavy with ripeness. The tomatoes were a vibrant hue, and the round frame appeared plump and juicy. Her fingers itched to harvest the vegetables, to take them into her kitchen and slice them open, allowing the alluring scent of success to fill her home.

Yet, it was the lack of weeds that made her pause. Pru’s eyes swept the dirt for any intruding blade of grass, but she could see none. Hank had not only remembered to water her garden but had also taken the time to tend to it, much to her surprise. A deep sense of gratitude filled her heart, and Pru wondered how she could ever repay him.

She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. She would thank him the first chance she got. Allowing herself a moment to indulge, Pru let her fingers run over the flourishing leaves. Her eyebrows pulled together as her gaze landed on a deep set of paw prints in the earth next to the rosemary.



***




“You back?” Hank asked as Pru walked towards him along the edge of the cornfield.

Pru flashed him a bright smile. “Yes,” she said as the wind kicked up, blowing a lock of her chestnut hair across her eyes. She brushed the piece aside absently.

“All’s well?”

Not being a man of many words, Hank’s choppy and abrupt questions did not surprise Pru. “Yes. I miss my grandma, and it was good to see my sisters, but I’m glad to be home.” She explained as her eyes swept the fields with a proud sense of ownership. Turning back to Hank, she said, “I wanted to thank you for tending my garden while I was gone.”

Hank gave her a blank stare.

“My garden,” Pru supplied, “behind the house.”

“I know your garden; I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pru’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t water my garden while I was away?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, if not you, then who?” Pru asked, confused.

“Don’t know. Maybe one of the hands?” Hank supplied helpfully before turning. His loose-legged stride headed toward the tool shed.

“Hmmm,” Pru murmured as she watched him walk away. Hank was the only person she could think of who knew how much that garden meant to her. No one else would have taken the time or care to help her in such a way. At least not since Mrs. Bessie had passed away.

Pru gnawed on her bottom lip as she puzzled over the mystery when a loud explosion broke her concentration. Her body jumped in surprise. The earth trembled under her feet, causing rocks to rattle together before settling.

Once the paralysis of surprise had passed, Pru frantically searched for Hank. After spotting him in the middle of the swaying oat field, she made a beeline toward him, running at full tilt, causing a stitch to pull at her side. Doubled over, Pru pulled in a strangled breath of air as she struggled to steady her breathing.

Men came running in from the field; their expressions taunt with worry.

“What was that?” Hank demanded, looking pointedly at each of the farm hands.

Each man returned his stare with blank confusion. Kyle, the youngest of the group, held up his hands helplessly.

“Where did it come from?” Pru asked with a hand up, blocking out the sun.

“Don’t know,” Hank grumbled, his gaze scanning the horizon. “But it felt damn close.”

“Too close,” Tom, one of the older farm hands, added solemnly.

“Look, over there.” Kyle pointed to the southwest of them. A dark brume of smoke billowed into the sky. Its black presence stretched across the sky in a heavy gloom.

Pru’s head snapped around, her eyes widening as she watched the cloud of smoke double in size, blocking out the light with its haze.

“That’s coming from Crocker Farm.” Hank groaned, pushing a hand through his short, cropped hair. “Come on, boys. Let’s go see if they need help.”

Pru watched the men climb into Hank’s dual cab truck. As they drove away, leaving a spray of gravel in their wake. Pru looked to the sky, her face darkening with concern. The implications of that much smoke weren’t good. The Crockers were facing some tough challenges ahead of them.


***


“It was a sporadic combustion,” Hank explained. “Turns out, when you got enough grain dust in the air, it can ignite. The explosion we felt was the Crocker’s silo. It was partially from the last harvest—”

Pru waved her hands impatiently, cutting off his explanation. “Wait, I’m confused. How does a grain silo explode?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Hank admitted, leaning back against the cab of his truck; he crossed his scuffed boots in front of him. “From what Bill Crocker said, it has something to do with dust, oxygen, and an ignition point.”

“Do they think it was arson, then?”

“Nope, just a fluke.”

“But how can that be? You just said it needed an ignition of some kind?”

“The arson investigator said it could have been the heat. There was a small window at the top of the silo, and if it wasn’t properly ventilated, then the sun could have triggered the explosion.”

Pru rubbed her arms to ward off the unexpected chill as she shivered in the cooling temperature, but it was the conversation that made her truly uneasy. This marked the third calamity to have occurred within the past month.

It had started with Johnson’s barn burning to the ground in the middle of the night. Pru hadn’t even learned about the damage until the following afternoon. She had overheard Tom telling Hank that the Johnsons might have to sell their land. It had been the final assault on the long list that had plagued them for months.

Rumor had it Clay Johnson already took out a second mortgage to cover the repairs on his new tractor and make ends meet after a disappointing harvest. Losing their barn had left them without any collateral to support their recovery.
Then, over at Petey’s farm, they’d lost two of their newer tractors in some freak accident. Somehow, the two tractors had collided, causing one to burst into flames. The men driving barely managed to escape with their lives. One had broken his arm, and the other suffered a head injury. Luckily, insurance had covered the damage, but because it had been Petey’s third claim in six months, the insurance company dropped him. With no coverage, when his barn caught fire, it sent Petey into debt.

Since he had no family to inherit his land, he chose to pack up his belongings and salvage whatever he could. Terra Fames Foods came in on a white horse and pulled Petey from ruin. He was now spending his retirement in South Florida in some retirement community, golfing his days away.
“Do you think the Crockers will be able to recover?” Pru worried.

“I’m not so sure,” Hank laid a hand on Pru’s shoulder, “It’s a tough life, you know. Farming. Not everyone can handle it.”

Pru’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Hank had been her right-hand man from the beginning. In some ways, he had even acted the part of a surrogate father, providing her with advice when she needed it.

Unlike Hank, Pru hadn’t grown up here. She was still learning how the farm operated, let alone all the other details of managing something this size. True, she had spent four years with Mrs. Bessie, retaining what she could about life on the farm. But those years had been filled with so much more than that. For her, it had been as if Mrs. Bessie were her grandmother, and she loved her dearly.

When Pru left for college, she always made it a priority to check on Mrs. Bessie when she was in town visiting her mother. It had been during spring break when she was given the heartbreaking news. Mrs. Bessie had passed away. They had her funeral a few weeks earlier; it had been a lovely service. As her mother had calmly described the floral arrangements and who spoke, Pru sat frozen with rage.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mrs. Bessie had died?” Pru demanded, while inside her heart shattered.

Her mother’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it mattered that much to you.”

“Mother, how can you be so callous?” Pru ranted, threading her fingers through her hair, “I visit Mrs. Bessie every time I am in town; of course, it matters to me.”

“There is no need to take that tone with me. You should have said something if you wanted to attend her funeral.” Her mother replied coolly, her face reflecting the same detached expression.

“How could I express a desire to go when I had no idea she had died?” Pru cried, her eyes burning. With a shaky breath, she paced back and forth, her nerves rattling like the keys in her pocket. She knew what her mother was, but it still hurt. As she turned to face the woman who bore her, Pru realized she felt no emotional connection to the person sitting in front of her. It was as if she was looking into the face of a stranger. The loss should have crippled her, but it didn’t. In a way, maybe she was like her mother after all. Why else would she display the same cold indifference as the woman before her? She swiped the tears sliding down her cheeks with an impatient brush of her hand.

“I’m sorry, Pru.”

The apology was surprising, but came too late. “It’s all right, Mother.” She said with a noticeable chill. Leaning down to kiss her mother’s cheek, Pru said, “Mrs. Bessie’s lawyer wants to speak with me. I have an appointment in town with him. I will see you later this evening.”

“All right, dear, have a nice time.”

At the meeting with the lawyer, Pru learned Mrs. Bessie had no family. Last year, she had decided to leave her land and her house to Pru to do with as she pleased. Pru had been so surprised by the news that she was speechless. It wasn’t until the lawyer had finished reading a list of assets that she began to realize what this new development would mean for her.

Once her mind stopped spinning, Pru impatiently drove to the farm. Her farm. She wanted to walk the land with new eyes. The eyes of an owner. It was then she realized she would need help. So, when she’d given Hank a call, he had come over to meet with her. Hank had worked for Mrs. Bessie for the better part of twenty years by this point. Pru counted herself fortunate he promised to stay on for a few more.

But even in her relief to have Hank’s help, his expression told her he’d doubted she had what it would take to run the farm.