The Appalachians are a land of mystery even today but this is a journey into their past–to a place of Native legends and rural magic, before the turn of progress stole the enchantment from our world. Where one woman will risk everything to save the people she loves. The asking price of their salvation? Her heart. Welcome to Wright’s Holler.
Before the white man settled the Appalachians, he stood over the people of the Tribe, providing all they needed to flourish in the shadow of the mountains.
The many tribes have given him many different names. Wakan Tanko. Maheo. To the people that first hunted the corner of Appalachia known to later generations as Wright’s Holler, he was Weshemoneto, the Great Spirit.To Anna Madeline Wright, he would simply be Wes.
Born in the holler that bore her name, “Annie” Wright came from people that had learned to live on the land, people who believed in the magic saturating the woods around them. People who knew how to survive.
Circumstance of birth gave her power. Her skills gave her respect. Her magic gave them hope. In a town not yet influenced by the progress of the industrial revolution, Annie was a pauwau. A witch. The winter of 1836 hit the town of McAllen hard and with her people in danger of annihilation, Annie called on the spirits for the power to save them. Her desperation called Weshemoneto himself . When they collided, she had to make a choice: Lose her town or lose her heart.
What happens next would become the stuff of legend for centuries to come.
Wes’s brows shot into his hairline, still reeling from hearing the words on her lips and not fully grasping what she was asking him until her hands moved over his chest. Her seared palm throbbing with a humming current where it lay over his heart. His lips peeled back off of teeth sharpening with his desire. “I would not take you while you are weakened, ni’wa,” he tried arguing, but it was too late. Her need filtered to his senses, a heady perfume that the animal in him wasn’t going to let go unanswered.
“You make me strong, Wes,” Annie insisted, face tipping up to brush her lips to his throat. “The first time was to trap you,” she frowned, her guilt still weighing heavy on her. “This time, I just want to love you, n’ I want you to love me. No traps. No tricks. Just us for however long we got.” Annie took a deep breath and took the chance, her hands smoothing down the muscled plane of his chest until she reached his answer.
Harper L. Jameson was born in South Eastern Ohio and raised on the stories of the family seat in the holler–a tiny hamlet nestled in the shadow of the Appalachians. Her imagination ran wild, fueled on tales of folklore and superstitions…of Indian burial sites and haunted woods where magic still runs free. Beginning with her debut novel “The Spirit”, she’s putting a new spin on paranormal romance by bringing the old legends back from our forgotten past. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and children, but she never really left the holler. No one ever does.
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Official Site: harperjameson.com