Fire Spell
formatted by
E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
Fire Spell
by T.A. Foster
Copyright © 2014 by T.A. Foster
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Cover Art by Once Upon a Time Covers.
Interior design and formatting by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs.
Books by T.A. Foster
The Ivy Grace Spell Series
Time Spell
(Book One)
Cover Spell
(Book Two)
Fire Spell (Book Three)
Head Over Heels Collection
Hollywood Kiss Collection
To Elizabeth and Hazel
“Y
OU HAVE
got to be kidding me. A western? They want me to write a western?” I wasn’t sure if my bottom lip was actually sticking out from pouting, but at this point, I didn’t care.
“Ivy, it’s not that bad. You’ve already written two period pieces. You can do it again. Think of it as western expansion.” Jack smoothed out the papers on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His broad shoulders filled the frame. I couldn’t believe he looked so calm. Didn’t this go against every editorial principle he had? He should be upset.
“But it’s a western they want? As in, cowboys, tumbleweeds, holsters, can-cans, that kind of thing?” I was out of my seat again.
For over an hour, we had dissected the latest mandate from the Raven Publishing powers that be. The board had met last night, and this was the decision handed to me. Jack and I were making little headway. Up until now, I had been able to pitch and write plot ideas without interference from the corporate decision makers. Things were changing.
“Why are you so resistant to the idea? You’re a phenomenal writer. You can write anything. I’ve seen you in action.”
I blushed, thinking how much action Jack had actually seen, but quickly turned my thoughts back to the discussion that was heating up on another level. He couldn’t possibly be serious about this.
He tried to explain. “It’s more of a pioneer, frontier, country type of novel. Think ranchers and cowboys just starting out in Tennessee. Romance. Intrigue. Mystery. The marketing team thinks this genre is on the upswing, and in a year or so, it will be the most popular script in Hollywood. It’s only a concept. It’s up to you what the story is. You are still in control of the creative process.” He read through a memo on his computer.
I spun on my heels and thought I caught Jack eyeing my legs as I crossed the distance between us. I leaned on his desk and pressed my palms into the smooth mahogany surface.
“Well then, if I’m in control, I don’t want to write a western.” I arched my eyebrows.
He pushed back from his desk in frustration.
Ann piped in on the speakerphone. “Jack, there’s a call for you. It’s Logan from accounting. Do you want me to take a message, or can you and Ivy spare a minute?”
Even with the door closed, I was certain she heard the on-going dispute between us. I had done little to hide my displeasure from my editor.
He sighed before picking up the phone. “Put him through, Ann.” He held up a finger in my direction.
I wasn’t leaving. This conversation was far from over. I sat in the chair with my arms folded while Jack spoke to accounting.
This was unbelievable. I couldn’t produce a book as if it were a
Glamour Spell
. It took time. I had to feel the right vibe. Find the right story. I crossed my arms, hoping Jack knew how irritated I was.
Raven Publishing was a small publishing house in North Carolina, but the attention received from
Vegas Star
and
Masquerade
had put the unknown house on the national radar. Books that turn into blockbuster movies have a way of changing the landscape of even the purest intentions. Board members who used to sit and yawn their way through meetings suddenly seemed interested in the next titles the company churned out. More importantly, they were interested in my titles.
I watched Jack as he ran his fingers through his hair. His white collared shirt strained over the tautness of his upper arms. It was mid-winter and the man still managed to show a hint of a tan. He mumbled something into the receiver then spun the chair around so he was facing the wall. I strained to hear his gruff voice.
“Yep, yep. I’ll tell her. Um-hmm. Thanks, Logan. That’s exactly what we needed.” He placed the receiver on the phone and smiled. “That was Logan in accounting.”
“So I heard. What was that all about?” This entire exchange annoyed me. I don’t think I had ever wanted to
Stun Spell
Jack before this. He had no idea how complicated this directive would make things for me, in addition to how much I detested westerns.
“We’re going on a trip.” He started shuffling papers in his top drawer.
I leaned forward. “A trip? I thought I was supposed to be writing the next great western.” Maybe I had let a little too much sarcasm drip through my words.
“Oh, you are.” He reached into the back of the drawer and pulled out a brochure.
I eyed him. He was acting distracted and giddy at the same time. I hadn’t seen him this happy since a year ago when we were in Las Vegas.
“Care to elaborate, Mr. Coleman?”
He stopped in mid-shuffle and laughed. “Sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Like I said, that was Logan in accounting. I put in a request for us to take a research trip. Usually, all of my requests are rejected because of financial constraints, but he just came back with the approved budget. We can go.”
“What are you talking about?
Research
?” I tried to steady my voice, but there was panic under the surface. This couldn’t happen.
“For your
western
.” He smiled widely. The lines around his eyes were warm.
Ugh! Jack was less than forthcoming with any details about what was happening with the board, the new genre mandate, and now a mysterious research trip.
“Seriously, stop shuffling papers and tell me what is going on. What trip are you talking about?”
“We’re going to Nashville. It’s time you and me get away from Sullen’s Grove and get started on the next great Ivy Grace novel. You need a break from here. When can you be packed and ready to go?”
Oh no. I shook my head and my chest tightened. “I can’t go with you—anywhere.” I didn’t mean for the last part to slip out.
“Excuse me?” The smile dropped from his face.
Clearly, I couldn’t go into how I had his memory erased to protect him, and I had spent nearly a year keeping my distance from him. This wasn’t the time to tell him why I shut the door in his face in New Orleans after the
Masquerade
premier, or why I almost never stopped by the office anymore. I wanted to. I wanted to tell him to stop pushing the trip and most definitely the western. You know, in case it killed him.
“Didn’t I tell you I’m moving?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Yes, but I didn’t think you had a place yet.”
He had me there, but a few white lies wouldn’t hurt.
“I’m meeting with my realtor this afternoon to finalize things. There is no way I can take a trip. Maybe in a month or so?”
He huffed. “I know your stall tactics.”
“It’s not stalling. I have to sign papers, get settled, make sure Cooper’s ok.”
He shoved the folder back in his desk. “Two weeks. We’re setting aside time for this new book in two weeks.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. Two weeks was better than tomorrow. Maybe Holly could help me dissuade him.
“Ok. Deal.” I stood to leave the office.
