When in Gnome
Gnome Sweet Gnome
Book One
Emily Night
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: September 28, 2015
ISBN: 1515387747
ASIN: B017YGK0WU
Number of pages: 355
Word Count: 90,674
Book Description:
Evangeline Black quickly becomes entangled in the magic that thrives in Gnome, Mississippi, when she spontaneously shifts into a wolf only hours after arriving.
Her life is out of control, and she has to rely on the kindness of strangers: the psychic caretaker of the lovely antebellum home where her mother was born, the sheriff who practices his own version of Native American-inspired magic, and a rocker werewolf. While she struggles at the bottom of the magical learning curve, it becomes apparent that someone is stalking her.
Evangeline quickly learns two things about Gnome. The first is that anything is possible. The second is that magical creatures are much less enchanting when they want you dead.
Excerpt
2
“How’s the aura
practice been going?” Ben asked.
“Well, I’ve read
the book… most of it… and I’ve been practicing.
I’m just too easily distracted.”
“Okay, well,
we’re going to work on that because concentration is key to everything, the
auras and your shifting.” Ben excused
himself for a moment and went to the kitchen.
When he returned a few minutes later, he had a steaming cup of tea. “This is what I call a meditational blend,
just a few herbs I’ve put together that will help you to reach the desired
state a lot quicker.”
“Like LSD?”
Ben
laughed. “Not exactly. The point isn’t that you hallucinate; it’s
that you relax and focus. You won’t see
any pink elephants, I promise.”
I grinned. I already felt pretty relaxed after the
wine. “You should be wondering about the
fact that you offered me some strange drink, and I drank it without question.”
“I assume it
means you trust me.”
I did. “So, will it make the auras more visible?”
“That’s up to the
viewer. The auras are always there. If you are trying to see them, it will
help. I wouldn’t recommend that a person
use this as a crutch, but I feel like you might need a little boost to get
started. So, bottoms up.”
“So, were you
born with power, or is it a learned thing?” I asked, as I brought the cup to my
lips.
“I believe we’re
all born with power. Free will is the
power to choose. Most people forfeit
that power by choosing to accept limitations.
It’s a case of worldwide groupthink.
During our early years, it’s easy to accept the concept of magic. As we get older, that faith in what is unseen
is educated out of us, and we begin to rationalize what we once believed was
magic and force it to fit within the limitations of the mainstream worldview. Once you break away from that groupthink and
accept that there is more, that’s when the magic begins. It may not be much at first, and you are
still tempted to rationalize it.”
I nodded. “It was easy for my friend Aimee to
rationalize some of the things I experienced.
The more she tried to convince me I was imagining things, the more I
began to think I was crazy.”
Ben nodded. “There’s a war inside all of us. Because of your heritage, the part that was
telling you to believe was probably a lot stronger than it is for most.”
“Stronger than
it was for you?”
“Probably,
although, I started exploring at a young age.
I didn’t really allow myself to get to the point where I bought into the
mainstream worldview. I think that made
all of the difference.”
I tossed the
last of the tea back and swallowed.
There was no sugar in the cup, so the taste was a mixture of grass,
bitter plants, and something naturally sweet-tasting like fennel. “It’s not bad, but it’s not great either.”
Ben grinned,
taking the cup from my hands.
I was mesmerized
by how graceful his hands were. They
weren’t big and rough. What can I
say? I’m a hand person.
“Just give it
time to kick in,” he said as he gently set the cup on an end table. I noted that he used a coaster.
“So, out of curiosity,
you just made this using the right plants?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a
combination of things—plants and my own personal power. The plants are completely harmless herbs that
might be used in cooking or sold over the counter as supplements. They probably wouldn’t have any effect
whatsoever without… help.”
I was trying to
focus on what he was saying, but I was distracted by the sensation of tunnel
vision.
“I don’t exactly
follow a recipe,” Ben continued. “I just
kind of go with my gut. Different herbs
are reputed to have different properties, like for curing the sniffles or
having visions, whatever. I pick certain
ones and put them together, but the real magic is in the intent.”
“So, you do a
spell over them?” My words felt thick in
my mouth. The room seemed to be
expanding and getting darker at the same time.
I was sure the walls were breathing.
“No, it’s not
like I recite an incantation or say magic words or anything. It’s more like praying and directing my will
at them.”
“So… if the real
power in the tea is your own, why do you need the tea at all? What can’t you just..?” I waggled my fingers.
Ben
laughed. “Do what? The tea is more like a vessel… or a
conduit. I can use a vessel to store
power and even concentrate power, which can then be transferred without
exhausting my current resources.”
I was feeling
the room beginning to spin, and, although I was sitting cross-legged on the
carpet, I seemed to be slithering to the floor and nearly fell over
backwards. “O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick!”
Ben laughed as
he reached out to catch me. “Don’t leave
just yet. Try to focus. Stay with me, okay?” He propped me up against the couch like I was
a rag doll. Very much unlike a
supermodel.
“I’d say that
was more than just a little boost.” My
head flopped back on the couch, and I looked up at the ceiling and saw the
stars where I was sure there hadn’t been a skylight earlier. The room was falling away from my vision, and
I was looking at the night sky through the trees. Then I was looking down and saw myself
sitting in Ben’s living room with the beautiful man bent over me. I was watching my own eyes, a dead stare, as
my arms lay limp at my sides. I could
hear him urging me to focus, and I sensed the beginnings of concern in his
voice. The tiniest thread of fear that
the worst case scenario might have manifested.
About the Author:
Emily Night grew up in a series of small towns in Mississippi. The youngest of four children, she dreamed of being a writer from the moment she wrote her first story in the fourth grade. At the age of twelve, she rode her bike up to the square of a small town and asked the editor to publish one of her stories. While the editor did not, he was very kind and encouraging. She graduated magna cum laude from Mississippi College and later obtained a Master's from Belhaven University. She prefers reading and writing fantasy because fantasy allows her to test the modern-day limits of what is possible.
Website: www.Emilynightauthor.com
Twitter: @emilynight7
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/emilynight0010/
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