The Wizard of her Heart

By Terry Newman

Sydney Thomas doesn’t believe in romantic love. She moved to Zen, Ohio with her young daughter following a dismal marriage and disastrous divorce. Her new boss says he’s a wizard who helps people fall in love by casting spells over jelly beans. The last thing she needs is to get entangled in a relationship. Why can’t she stop thinking about him?
Wyatt Ginn is spellbound by the woman he met at the post office when he rear-ends her car. Not a great first impression. When he discovers she’s the social media director hired for his publishing company, the second and third impressions aren’t much better. And she doesn’t believe in magic. So why is he attracted to her?
There’s no way they can live happily ever after. Is there?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781509250189

Terry Newman

Terry Newman worked in the fashion industry for more than twenty-five years, both as an editor at i-D, Attitude, and Self Service and as a contributing writer for newspapers including the Guardian, the Independent, the Times, and the Sunday Times. She has also written and presented fashion programs in the United Kingdom for Channel 4 (She's Gotta Have It and Slave). The author of Legendary Authors and the Clothes They Wore (Harper Design), she has contributed to books including i-D's Fashion Now, Fashion Now 2, and Soul i-D. She currently lectures at the University for the Creative Arts in Epsom, England and lives in London with her husband and two children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A man comes with entanglements.

Sydney Thomas concentrated on applying shipping tape to a box. She deliberately aligned the two sides of the flaps, then pulled the tape over them before she gave her full attention to her sister.

They’re called relationships. Valerie plucked a piece of candy out of the dish on the dining room table and popped it in her mouth.

Yeah, well, I call relationships messy. And that’s a lot like entanglements. She drummed her fingers on the table. And that is exactly what my marriage to Nate was. An excruciating, nearly decade-long entanglement. She put the tape back in the red toolbox that held all their essential shipping supplies. And I say no thank you to that.

You’re letting your experience with Nate sour you on all men. There are good men out there. And you deserve one.

Sydney shook her head. So much to unpack in your comments, Sis. She sighed. If she’d had this discussion with her sister once, she’d had it a gazillion times. First, I’m newly divorced. I don’t want any rebound man. She took a piece of candy from the dish, too, then said through her chewing, And if there are plenty of good men out there, why are you still single?

Only newly divorced because the paperwork just went through. You haven’t been living with Nate for years. Once again, Valerie had expertly sidestepped the question. She was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.

But she couldn’t deny the validity of the statement. Even before she kicked the man out, they were nothing more than roommates who got on each other’s nerves.

I’m not even sure how we’re sisters, she said. We’re complete opposites. You’re not only all romantic, you’re idealistic. You dive into every good cause you encounter, trying to save the world. You spent all last summer working to raise money for the new high school swimming pool—and you don’t even have any children.

And I told you why I worked so hard on that project. Because I believe everyone should have the opportunity to learn how to swim. She picked up another piece of candy. Remember when we were lifeguards how many people didn’t know how to swim? If the Zen High School swimming pool can save even one person from drowning, then my efforts were well worth it.

And I commend you. But me? I’m convinced my meager attempts at anything won’t make much of a difference. And don’t even get me started on romance. Nope, not even going there. She ran a hand through her chestnut shoulder-length hair. You’re the big sister. You’re supposed to be the level-headed one. And look at you. She waved a hand in her sister’s direction.

We look alike, Valerie replied, apparently ignoring Sydney’s short exposition of their differences. People confuse us all the time.

That was true. Except for the slight height difference—she was five-two to Valerie’s five-four—they could be twins. And Sydney’s friggin’ freckles. God, she hated those. Otherwise, their chestnut hair hung at their shoulders, accented by high cheekbones and green eyes.

Remember when Mr. Cacciatore asked me why I was sitting in a sophomore English class instead of a senior one. She closed the toolbox lid. He thought I was you.

Valerie laughed. You know, we didn’t use that to our advantage nearly as much as we could have. I could have aced algebra for you.

Sydney glanced at the large blue clock on the wall. Oh, look at the time. I have to get these packages to the post office and pick up Madison from school. She ran a hand through her hair.

She doesn’t know I’m in town. She’ll be surprised. She’s expecting you.

Her eight-year-old daughter had been staying with her sister for the past week while she took care of the loose ends of their move from Cleveland to Zen, Ohio. She had fallen in love with a small cape cod along Meditation Trail. Not only was the house just what she wanted, but she thought the name of the street sounded refreshing. I could use more meditation in my life, she’d told Valerie at the time.

Madison will be so excited. She’s missed you.

She wouldn’t let me know it. All I hear when I call her are all the wonderful things Aunt Valerie lets her do. I thought maybe she wanted to stay with you permanently. She paused. It’s enough to make a mom wonder what she’s doing wrong.

She collected the five packages, orders they had just filled for their fledgling business, Pretty Clean. While they had been making soap since their high school days, they only recently turned it into a part-time business.

Look at this. We budding entrepreneurs just might make it in the business world, yet.

Of course we will, Syd. And tomorrow we get the keys to our new office workspace. I can’t wait to start organizing. Don’t forget we meet the landlord at ten.

And wait—Valerie retrieved Sydney’s purse from the back of one of the dining room chairs—don’t forget this. She held the purse high and quirked an eyebrow.

How could I possibly forget that?

The purse or the appointment?

She lowered her shoulder as her sister tried to get the purse over it without disturbing the packages.

The appointment. That’s one of the major reasons for moving down here. To seriously pursue our soapmaking.

The plan was brilliant in its simplicity—or so she thought. They’d rent office space that would serve several purposes. The storefront provided them with a brick-and-mortar business. They’d have limited hours for local traffic.

The storage space in the back would be their warehouse-distribution center. And they would transform the large area with the industrial sink and other amenities into their new soapmaking headquarters. That way, neither had to deal with the sometimes-messy process in their homes anymore. And they had a place to store inventory.

And I start my first day of work Monday. Sydney juggled the packages after the addition of the purse.

Pretty Clean was their business of the future, but for the moment it was just their passion. While profitable, it didn’t make anywhere near the money to afford a comfortable living for one person, let alone two, especially when one of them had a child. They both had set their sights on quitting their day jobs one day. Hopefully soon.

Sydney had been a social media specialist for a publishing company in Cleveland and felt fortunate enough to find the same position in Zen. Her new employer, though, was a much smaller company and specialized in paranormal literature, both fiction and nonfiction. She thought the subject matter, well, odd. What exactly did paranormal mean?

She was nevertheless glad to find something she would feel comfortable with. Her life and that of her daughter seemed to be in a perpetual upheaval the past several months. She anticipated a quieter, even boring, life.

I interviewed with the vice president. She seemed nice enough. I didn’t get to meet the owner. He was out of town. But Brenda had nothing but good things to say about him—and the company. It almost sounds too good to be true.

The short drive to the post office gave her time to think about her new start. Madison seemed to love her new school. And truthfully, she thought, I can’t wait to start over free of Nate’s haranguing. I was never good enough for him. He thought soapmaking was a stupid business. You could never attract enough customers to make it profitable. Those words still stung.

Sydney arrived at the post office…and drove past it. This can’t be right. Maybe I missed it because I wasn’t concentrating. She went around the block and kept a close eye out for a parking lot. While she had never entered the post office before, she’d been past it several times. How come I never noticed this before?

She was in front of the building, and much to her horror, concluded the only parking available was the off-street. What kind of city doesn’t have a parking lot for its post office? she mumbled to herself as she maneuvered her car into a spot.

It’s been years since I’ve parallel parked. She looked in her rearview mirror, ensuring she didn’t back into the car behind her. She inched her vehicle forward and backward several times in order to get close enough to the curb. Satisfied, she shut off the engine. She walked around to the passenger side and retrieved the packages.

Not bad, she said as she assessed the result of her struggle. Close enough.

She pulled out her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then juggled the parcels. What a glorious spring day, she said to herself. April in northeastern Ohio could be cold—and she was used to the lake effect—but today was that rare balmy spring day, nearly cloudless.

She fumbled her way up the steps and into the building. Even though several people stood in front of her, she found herself at the counter in no time. And much to her surprise, the clerk behind the counter was pleasant.

I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before, the short brunette said as she weighed the packages. By the way, these smell good.

She explained she was new and then told her about the business.

Do you have a business card? I’d love to order from you.

She pulled out her card as she paid for the shipping.

Have a nice day. Hope to see you here often.

So not like Cleveland, she thought as she exited the building.

She got into the car and rested her hands on the steering wheel. She found herself optimistic about her future. She was determined—whoa! What the hell was that?

Something had hit her car from behind, jolting her forward. She leaped out, muttering a few choice phrases. This, she said to herself, is why I hate parallel parking.

She discovered a man staring at the damage. If he hadn’t just hit her car, she might have considered him attractive. She couldn’t help but smile as he ran a nervous hand through his thick black hair. His other hand clutched a black cane.

His appearance almost made her feel sorry for him—until she looked at what he had done to the fender.

****

Curses. Wyatt Ginn’s car seemed to leap forward on its own and, damn, hit the parked car in front of his. Panicked, he threw the car into reverse. He had been trying to parallel park. "Why doesn’t the post office get a flippin’