Sydney Logan is revealing the new cover of Mountain Charm. First published in 2013, this second edition has a new cover, new publisher, and new price. Check it out below and be sure to enter the giveaway for an advanced copy!
At the age of thirteen, Angelina Clark followed in the footsteps of her ancestors by casting an Appalachian love spell, which promised she would find her true love. A young Angelina had been thrilled to participate in the ritual, but through the years, her father’s untimely death and her mother’s illness have shaken Angelina’s magical faith to its core. Now, as her twenty-first birthday approaches, she refuses to practice her supernatural gifts and no longer believes in the love charm.
That is, until Dylan Thomas arrives on her front porch.
Dylan, a Nashville writer, travels to the mountain town of Maple Ridge to unearth the family’s supernatural secrets. While her clairvoyant mother is convinced that Dylan is her daughter’s soul mate, Angelina refuses to see the nosy reporter as anything more than a nuisance.
The two grow closer just as her mother’s health takes a turn for the worse. Faced with mounting medical bills, Angelina is faced with selling the family’s music shop to make ends meet. Desperate to help the woman he loves, Dylan explores his own family tree and finds support from an unlikely source.
Can Dylan prove his love is real—spell or no spell?
There are moments in a person’s life that absolutely shake them to their core. Moments that make them re-evaluate their every thought, their every decision.
This was Angelina’s moment.
Through the mountain mist, she took a long look at the black vehicle parked in her driveway.
With Davidson County plates.
In an instant, the moment was shattered. Her short-lived astonishment gave way to something far more familiar—something bitter and suspicious and just downright pissed.
Feeling ridiculous, Angelina furiously slammed her car door and stalked toward the porch. This had nothing to do with that stupid spell. Not at all. This was that snooping reporter from Nashville, and he was at her house, on her porch.
And petting her dog.
The man’s eyes widened as she approached, and by the time she reached the steps, he was already on his feet. Cash, traitor that he was, gave an unenthusiastic bark and rushed to Angelina’s side.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
The man looked a little stunned.
“I’m Dylan Thomas.” His eyes were a deep brown and his voice was kind. Thanks to her rage, both features were fairly easy for Angelina to ignore. “You must be Celia’s daughter. Wow, I heard you were beautiful, but—”
“Dylan Thomas?” Angelina muttered coldly, interrupting his compliment. “What kind of person names their kid after some drunken Welsh poet?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the same kind of person who names their dog after their favorite country music singer.”
Angelina’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh, Angelina, you’re home!” Celia’s voice cut through the tension as she carried a tray out onto the porch. “I was just getting Mr. Thomas a slice of your birthday cake.”
“Mrs. Clark, please. I’ve asked you to call me Dylan.” He smiled at the woman before sitting back down in the rocking chair with his plate.
Cash seemed torn, looking between the stranger and his owner, before finally releasing a resigned whine and plopping down at Angelina’s feet.
The man has charmed both my mother and my dog.
“Dylan has driven all the way from Nashville to meet us,” Celia said.
“Dylan is here to write a story about our family. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he’s been all over town, asking questions about us?”
“He mentioned it, yes.” Celia smiled at the man before turning her attention back to her daughter. “You know, it’s getting a bit chilly. I think I’ll go find a good book and crawl into my warm bed. Give you two the chance to get acquainted.”
“Mom . . .”
Celia’s eyes danced with happiness, and it tugged at Angelina’s heart. There was no mistaking the hope there.
“Happy birthday, Angelina.”
Dylan leapt to his feet, thanking Celia again for the cake and holding the screen door open as they said good night. Angelina had to admit the man was good. Those intrinsic good manners were going to charm the pants off many of the women he would encounter throughout his life.
But not her.
“It’s your birthday?”
“Yes, and it was blissfully uneventful until you showed up.”
“Beautiful and infuriating,” Dylan muttered. “Look, Angelina, I was just given this assignment yesterday. I don’t have a clue about Appalachian magic tricks or devil worshipping or whatever it is you do up in these mountains, but I have a story to write. Just let me interview you and your mom, and I’ll be back on the interstate before you can say abracadabra.”
Instead of pointing out just how ignorant he sounded, Angelina decided what he truly needed was a strong dose of fear.
“Actually, I do have something you need to see. A family heirloom. Wait here?”
Excited for any useful information, Dylan’s eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. Once again, those good manners kicked in, and Dylan opened the door for her.
Angelina raced inside the house. She hadn’t touched it in years, but she still remembered where her father kept the key to the case. She grabbed what she needed and quickly made her way back out to the porch, letting the screen door slam behind her.
Dylan jumped out of his chair. “What the hell?”
Angelina lifted the rifle and pointed it straight at him. He didn’t need to know the safety was on—or that the chamber was empty.
“This is a Remington, passed down from my father and his father, also known as an Appalachian magic wand. Just watch. It’s going to make you disappear.”
Angelina thought it was almost comical, hearing him curse and watching him leap off the porch. All the commotion caused her dog to chase after him, which only made Dylan sprint faster until he reached the sanctuary of his vehicle.
“Are you insane?” Dylan yelled.
“I tend to get a little crazy when someone trespasses on my property. Leave my family alone and don’t come back!”
He slammed the door and had to do some fancy maneuvering to get around her car, but within seconds, the only sounds Angelina could hear were Dylan’s squealing tires, Cash’s noisy bark, and her mother’s hearty laughter.
Sydney Logan is the bestselling author of six novels. She has also penned several short stories and is a contributor to Chicken Soup for the Soul. A lover of music, she fills her playlist with everyone from Johnny Cash to Eminem.
Sydney holds a Master’s degree in Elementary Education and spends her days surrounded by kids and books. A native of East Tennessee, she enjoys playing piano and relaxing on her porch with her wonderful husband and their very spoiled cat.
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