Page 2 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

Welcome to Everly Hollow

Raene

M y ass is numb, or maybe I have a blood clot starting to form. I gently sway side to side in the black leather driver's seat to alleviate some of the pressure and breathe life into either cheek.

The sun is low, casting a golden glow through the surrounding trees and over the snow-kissed mountains in the distance.

The air carries a cool breeze, flowing through the cracked windows of my silver BMW M5 alongside the music on my playlist.

I should be heading to my beach condo. Sipping a mojito. Wearing a super sexy, but adorable, bikini with an oversized sun hat so big it won’t allow people to see me or my business. I would be glistening in sunscreen like a dolphin in the sun, surrounded by a salty breeze and large palm fronds.

But no, I’m on my way to Everly Hollow. A sleepy, enchanted town of real magic, where humans, monsters, and mythical creatures coexist. A maple-scented town where fall probably throws up on every storefront from August to October .

I’m excited to see my Grandma Vera. Unfortunately, she has to have hip replacement surgery, but at least I can be there for her. It’s a few months earlier than planned, and luckily, she has a community of people who are willing to lend a hand.

She’s an amazing, beautiful spirit, and my total opposite. She loves fall, and at seventy-one, she feels this is the place to plant roots, enjoy a beautiful garden, make friends, and gossip.

Fall doesn’t arrive for another five weeks. That’s plenty of time to help grandma, be back in my flip-flops, and write my next summer beach read.

But to be surrounded by crisp fall leaves, pumpkins, and apple cider donuts? It gives me the ick. People can have their fall sweaters, pumpkin spice, and everything nice, but not me. I’m not your basic PSL bitch. Miss me with the pumpkin galore.

Give me summer. I live for it. I breathe in coconut body spray and exhale sunshine. My entire brand as an author is built on spicy, summer-themed beach romances that leave readers sweating and panting, wishing their orgasm curled toes could be in the sand with a pool boy named Enrique.

Oceans. Popsicles. Thunderstorms that shake the sky and bare feet in the grass when it rains. I want heat. I want late-night bonfires with a book in hand and sticky fingers from ice cream that melts too fast. Instead, I’m heading into the heart of fall. Into Everly Hollow.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city, and my first time visiting since Grandma moved here a year ago. Giving up my last month of summer, I’m going to spend a season I loathe the most, trapped in a town of magic.

There’s about an hour left of this drive. I should have stretched when I got gas and a snack.

Will opening all the windows further and blasting Tyla help cure deep vein thrombosis? My ass is dissociating with my body.

The closer I get to Everly Hollow, the more the world around me seems to shift, like slipping through into the veil of another, softer reality.

The trees lining the road appear to lean in closer, the last bit of the sun dappling through the forest canopy.

There’s a touch of warmth on my skin. It’s humming around me. My fingertips tingle on the coolness of the steering wheel. There’s faint gold dust floating in the air. Making my melanated skin glow.

Magic.

The scent hits me next. It smells earthy, like fresh rain and moss. Comforting. Relaxing.

A large stone comes into view. Welcome to Everly Hollow, is carved in swirling letters on the moss-speckled granite. A seven-pointed star is etched beneath the name.

Cobblestone roads pave the winding way and a town square. Neighborhoods full of adorable cottages and a treehouse village that peaks through the canopy with tiny balconies, rope bridges with wood planks, and rope ladders. The town square has a few stops and stores.

The one that stands out the most, as I slowly creep by with the focus of a predator is, The Autumn Leaf Bookshop.

The shop is beautiful, like an enchanted bedtime story for book lovers, even though it’s decorated in pumpkins. The large trees in front are already head over heels falling for fall—leaves vibrant burnt orange, golden ochre, and deep crimson. My face is melting into a frown.

It’s still summer. Wasn’t it too early?

“That’s freaking weird…” I mumble to myself, continuing the drive through the town to the wooded area that the map on my phone directed me to.

The gravel driveway curves to reveal my grandmother’s cottage, nestled within the trees like it had just grown here.

Her garden is bursting with a variety of flowers. Hydrangeas, roses, and lavender. A few I don’t recognize, but it looks like this type of lily is enchanted by the glow it illuminates and the way it moves in the light breeze.

I put the car in park and kill the engine, needing to sit. Just for a moment.

The soft ticking and clicking of my car cooling off is the only whisper until the breeze carries in a woodsy cinnamon scent. It curls around me, tightening its grip like it knows I’m resisting and won’t give in. It doesn’t care. It’s going to seduce me into liking fall whether I want to or not.

I take a long exhale, unbuckling my seatbelt .

Finally .

An afternoon of driving and a whole year of burnout, book tours, and deadlines are behind me.

This break couldn’t have come soon enough, and at least I can visit Grandma in a town where hardly anyone should know me.

My agent nearly had an aneurysm when I told her I’d be unreachable for a bit. That my grandmother needed me.

That I needed a break.

"But what about the sequel?"

I’ve written a series of novels, standalone works, novellas...everything. I’ve had bestsellers before. But this one is different. It exploded.

Barefoot & Reckless. A close-proximity spicy romance that’s perfect for summer. Tropes like a stranded couple, enemies to lovers, and one hammock.

It blew up overnight, and my frontal lobe cortex hasn’t known peace since. I needed out. From the pressure and demands. From all of it.

I love what I do. But at twenty-eight, with thirty coming at me like a freight train, I’ve realized something. If I don’t start protecting my mental health now, I’ll burn out before I ever finish the damn series.

But it doesn’t compare to this moment, sitting at the edge of a magical town, surrounded by trees, glowing flowers, and enough peace to hear myself think again .

I want to enjoy this time without three whole months of dancing with scarecrows, jumping in leaf piles, and drinking pumpkin spice-tainted beverages by the gallons.

Ugh. I should be on a beach with a book in one hand and a Mai Tai in the other—not wandering through a leaf-crunching small town where the fall vibes are coming in hot.

But here I am. Maybe this won’t be such a bad thing.

My body relaxes against the seat, as I pull my braids over my shoulder. It's quiet. No buzzing phone because I blocked anyone and everyone important for twenty-four hours. No readers at signings asking me if I really based the hot police officer in Tangled in Blue on my ex.

Just me, the trees, a new town full of magical beings, and the woman who raised me after my parents died when I was just ten years old.

My mouth tugs into a smile.

Let the vacation begin.

Of course, the door is unlocked.

I told her many times when planning this trip, I don’t care how cozy, sweet, and polite this damn town is, lock your doors! Always. I can knock and then get a key later, but no, she left it unlocked.

Turning the knob fully, I push the door open as I juggle my laptop bag, purse, and roll my olive green suitcase behind me.

“Heeeelllo! Is anyone home?”

I shut the door and lock it.

“I’m the masked, big bad werewolf who’s come to take your soul! Thanks for leaving the door open!” I say.

“Raene! Baby, you’re here!” Grandma shouts excitedly as she makes her way over to me with the use of her cane. She’s wearing her favorite jeans and a blush-colored sweater, soft and cozy like everything in this cottage. Looks like the physical therapy before her surgery is paying off.

Even with the deep laugh lines on her rich brown skin and her thick silver curls that frame her face, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Hi Granny!” I smile ear to ear. I drop my things and make my way over to her, our arms wrapping around one another in a tight, warm embrace. She smells like roses. Like home.

“Why didn’t you lock your door?” I ask when she releases me, bending to take off my sneakers.

She waves her hand in the air as if my suggestion was just that. A silly piece of advice, she will choose to continue to ignore. She makes her way back to the couch, where she was enjoying a movie. The wood in the fire crackles in the hearth, spreading warmth in the living room.

“I told you it was safe here. Oh, and a werewolf does live here.”

My eyes widened. “No shit?”

“Yes, Dominik. He owns the flower shop. He knows everything there is to know about flowers, even those that are enchanted. Like the moon-lilies I have in my garden. They begin to glow as the sun sets. ”

A werewolf who is a florist. I shake my head and laugh. Everly Hollow really is magical.

She pats the seat beside her. “I have your room all ready.”

I plop down on the couch and groan in relief. Stretching my limbs, back, and neck until I hear a satisfying pop.

Comfy clothes were the right call for the drive. This cute mustard yellow crop top with a sunflower on the front and butter-soft gray joggers feels like a warm hug.

“Grandma, your surgery is in two days.” I shift my body towards her. “You know I could have handled all of that.”

“It’s okay.” She pats my hand. “I had help. Flora has been helping me. She’s a Goddess sent.”

I remember Grandma telling me about Flora during our phone calls. They’re besties, and she seems very sweet. She’s a troll and not the under-the-bridge-dwelling kind. She lives in the hills, Grandma says. She’s earthy, loves to garden, and especially loves tending to her herbs.