Legend goes that long ago a Flores woman offended the old gods, and their family was cursed as a result. Now, every woman born to the family has a touch of magic.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Raquel Vasquez Gilliland’s Witch of Wild Things, which is out September 12th!
Sage Flores has been running from her family—and their “gifts”—ever since her younger sister Sky died. Eight years later, Sage reluctantly returns to her hometown. Like slipping into an old, comforting sweater, Sage takes back her job at Cranberry Rose Company and uses her ability to communicate with plants to discover unusual heritage specimens in the surrounding lands.
What should be a simple task is complicated by her partner in botany sleuthing: Tennessee Reyes. He broke her heart in high school, and she never fully recovered. Working together is reminding her of all their past tender, genuine moments—and new feelings for this mature sexy man are starting to take root in her heart.
With rare plants to find, a dead sister who keeps bringing her coffee, and another sister whose anger fills the sky with lightning, Sage doesn’t have time for romance. But being with Tenn is like standing in the middle of a field on the cusp of a summer thunderstorm—supercharged and inevitable.
“Want me to distract you?”
I put the phone on speaker and place it in the cup holder next to the mug. “Go for it.”
“You’ll never guess who I saw last night. At Piggly Wiggly of all places.”
I sit back in my seat. I get the key in the ignition as I say, “Piggly Wiggly?” I think of who wouldn’t be caught dead there. “Amá Sonya?”
Laurel draws out the response long and slow. “Tennessee. Reyes.”
It may well be the absolute last name I’d expected her to utter. I think I would’ve been less shocked if she’d announced it were Amá Sonya at Piggly Wiggly, naked as birth, juggling plums in the middle of produce.
My breath’s gone way too shallow, my hand gripping the key so tight it’s cutting into my fingers. I turn the ignition, hard, but stay in park while clearing my throat. “Tennessee Reyes?” As though there were any other on the planet. “You’re certain?”
“It was him, Sage. Trust me.”
I close my eyes. “But . . . he moved to Denver and then got off social media and, like-”
“Disappeared off the face of the earth? Yeah. But I guess he’s deigned to walk the earth’s face once more, because he is in Piggly Wiggly, in Cranberry, Virginia. Or was, as of yesterday.”
My heart’s finally gone back to a normal rhythm and so I slowly begin reversing the van, angling my head back. “How does he look?” The question’s out before I can stop it.
“Oh, gosh. Somehow better.”
“Better?” It comes out like a squeak. Better doesn’t seem possible.
“He’s . . . I dunno. He’s grown into those legs. And he’s got this yummy almost-beard thing happening . . . hold on.” Her voice gets distant. “No, hon, of course I’m talking about you! Well, I mean if you grew a beard thing!” Laurel sighs. “I think my husband just heard me verbally ogling another man.”
Normally I’d laugh and keep up with their teasing each other, but my stomach keeps making stupid, roller-coaster-y loops somehow in my rib cage. Because Tennessee Reyes is back in Cranberry.
Tenn is back in Cranberry.
“Well, that’s something.” I’ve made it to the edge of the lot now without hitting any parked vehicles in my emotional state. That’s also something.
“Guess that distracted you good, huh? You sound like you’ve morphed into some kind of zombie.” When I give a flat chuckle in response, Laurel adds, “You okay, Sage?” in a soft voice. I hate that voice. It only comes out when I’m near tears. And to me? The consequences of crying are worse than those of offending gods.
I blink and blink and then respond. “Oh, yeah.” I try to make my voice smooth, but it’s as useless as ironing linen. “I’m just not looking forward to-you know. Moving back with Nadia.” With Teal.
Laurel hears what I don’t say. “Maybe she won’t be as bad as you remember.”
The last time I saw my sister, she cracked my lip open so wide, I needed four stitches. Later she said she didn’t mean it-that she’d forgotten she’d worn such a sharp ring that day-but that just tells me that she did mean everything else. As in, the whole situation of her fist in my face.
“Oh, yeah.” I finally make a right onto the main road as someone starts honking behind me. “It won’t be that bad.”
“I’ll make you pollo a la plancha the second you get here.”
I manage a smile. “Now you’re talking.”
“Nothing like Cuban comfort food to get settled in.” There’s a muffled noise in the background. “Ah, I gotta go.”
“Tell Jorge I said hi.”
“Drive safe and text me the second you get to Nadia’s, yeah?”
“Of course. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
When I merge onto the highway, I do a double take at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes are wide, the brown almost citrine in the sunlight, and my mascara is already smudged even though I applied it less than an hour ago. My hair-a mass of curls I’d braided and pinned up-looks like it’s trying to break the hair tie keeping it from reaching down and steering this car without any of my help. I look like a twenty-nine-year-old who is freaking the fuck out.
I am a twenty-nine-year-old who is freaking the fuck out.
Why on earth is Tenn back in Cranberry?
I take a deep breath as I veer toward my first exit. It doesn’t matter. What happened between us, it was over a decade ago, which feels like a dozen lifetimes by now. And that’s exactly where anything between Tenn and me will stay-buried in the memories of seventeen-year-old me, back when I thought heartbreak was the worst thing that could happen to a person.
Excerpted from Witch of Wild Things by Raquel Vasquez Gilliland Copyright © 2023 by Raquel Vasquez Gilliland. Excerpted by permission of Berkley.
