Enter Lily Sweet. A struggling artist from New York State who discovers a mystery unfolding around her when a letter from her deceased mother shatters everything she has ever believed about herself. When Lily opens the package, she finds an ornate key, a careworn journal, old photos, and a peculiar letter with curious instructions to head to Sweet Briar, Georgia. Lily not only discovers her birthplace, a bevy of hunky men to keep her distracted, a plethora of wacky relatives that are all witches (and that she herself is a dark witch!) but unearths (literally!) a decades-old murder and stumbles across a new body! Despite all this, Lily finds a place to call home!
Enter Lily Sweet. A struggling artist from New York State who discovers a mystery unfolding around her when a letter from her deceased mother shatters everything she has ever believed about herself. When Lily opens the package, she finds an ornate key, a careworn journal, old photos, and a peculiar letter with curious instructions to head to Sweet Briar, Georgia. Lily not only discovers her birthplace, a bevy of hunky men to keep her distracted, a plethora of wacky relatives that are all witches (and that she herself is a dark witch!) but unearths (literally!) a decades-old murder and stumbles across a new body! Despite all this, Lily finds a place to call home!
What have I done? I had already worried most of my nails down to nothing. Now I was gnawing at the skin around my thumb and staring at a man staring back at me who could give Uncle Jesse from Dukes of Hazard a run for his money. I am not into stereotypes, but someone forgot to give this guy the memo.
My truck had decided to give me issues once I crossed over from Otto, North Carolina, into the small tourist town of Dillard, Georgia. I was driving along just fine, Depeche Mode cassette cranked high, straining what life was left in my speakers. Yes, cassette. My truck was so old it didnât have a CD slot or Bluetooth anything. The cassette head unit was the newest installment that truck had and was probably done in the early eighties. I had just crossed the state line and looked down at the space under my passenger seat and whispered, âYou are home, Mom.â Thatâs when my truck had a fit. Not a good omen.
It made a bang sound then started making a repetitive clunking noise from somewhere under it. I pulled into the gas station with a service shop attached to it and tried to explain to the lone mechanic what I thought might be the problem since I had never heard that noise before, especially coming from my vehicle. He stood there, scratching his head for a long moment, squinting and blinking at me like I had several multi-colored heads and was speaking in tongues.
I was apprehensive, because while the gas station seemed to be thriving, the mechanic shop looked like it was being cleaned out and closed down.
âYou ainât from these parts none, are ya?â
Oh, lovely, the stereotype was indeed alive and well. âUm, no, I am from New York.â I waited for the commercial for hot sauce to come to life with folks popping up all around me yelling, âNew York City?â But nothing else happened other than a wad of tobacco flying out of the manâs mouth and narrowly missing my left boot.
âYou know, my great-great-great-grand-daddy fought in The War. Mebbe he met up with some of your kin.â
Lovely. I was about to tell Bubba here that I was born in these parts when I remembered at the last minute to curb my revelations in light of me supposing to stay incognito for the time being. I smiled wanly at him instead and said, âAbout my truck? Do you think that noise means something critical?â I glanced over at his name tag. âStan? Do you think you could figure out whatâs wrong and if I need to stay here, or can I go on to Sweet Briar like this?â
âNameâs not Stan. That was my daddy. Iâm Stu.â
Have you ever gotten so frustrated you felt the next thing to set you off would result in you finding yourself in a jail cell once you woke up from having blacked out? The reason you blacked out had everything to do with the fact you were probably bludgeoned from behind by the police because they found you pummeling an idiot repetitively all the while screaming obscenities. No? Huh, must just be me, then.
I had an excuse. I hadnât eaten todayâŚheck, I didnât even have any coffee because I couldnât find a coffee shop open since leaving the Asheville, North Carolina, area in the wee hours of the morning, hoping to get to my location by nine. I needed my coffee. I remembered heading out thinking surely someplace would be open twenty-four hours and have decent coffeeâŚnope.
âOkay, Stu, do you think this is serious, the noiseâŚfrom my car?â
âMight could be.â A long pause. âMight not.â
I turned away and began rummaging through my purse on the front seat and pulled out a Chapstick, which I uncapped and began liberally applying to my lips. Stu did not see that this was a tactical maneuver to keep me from wrapping my hands around his neck. I didnât think he appreciated just how close he came to death at that moment.
âWell, what is it? Can I keep driving this thing, or should I leave it here and come back for it when youâve fixed it?â
The sheer exhaustion of my trip finally hit me, and I was about to walk away from my truck, Stu, and the State of Georgia and find a one-way ticket to New York State. However, thatâs when a man in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt that fit him like a second skin, showing off a lithe but muscular frame, came around the building. He had sandy medium blond hair and matching five oâclock shadow. What? I can look. Stu suddenly became animated and rapid-fire explained to the mystery man just what he thought might be wrong with my truck.
Huh.
Stu almost seemed to know what heâs talking about.
Mr. Lithe turned and gave me a friendly once over. No, I was not offended. I mean, Iâd just done the same thing to him. Iâm not a hypocrite. He must have liked what he saw because he walked right past Stu, heading in my direction. He gave me a flash of a smile, which showed off perfect straight white teeth and a tiny dimple on his cheek, and introduced himself.
âNameâs Jake. I donât know much about fixing trucks, though. Iâm from Sweet Briar, a few towns over. Stu tells me you are new to our area?â He said this as he peered over the top of his sunglasses, giving me a peek at his light baby blues.
Well, there was a God if this was what the men of Sweet Briar, Georgia, were made of.
âUm, yes. Lily. Lily Hogan.â I had decided to use Mollyâs last name for the time being to remain anonymous since I didnât know who a relation might be. âIâm down from New York State looking for a change of scenery and thought this part of the country would have what I need for my art. Iâm an artist.â
I knew I sounded like a dork, but I couldnât help myself since I suddenly morphed into a teenage girl swooning over the cute jock. Shoot me now, please.
âAn artist? Nice. What media do you work in?â
Oh, good looking and had some depth. Most people would just ask what kind of art I didâŚbut media? Thatâs got intelligence written all over it. Of course, now it made me feel self-conscious because even the most enlightened people gave me strange looks when I told them I scoured garbage bins and flea markets. Not to mention that I went through peopleâs garages and even drove around picking up random crap on the sides of the road to turn into sculptures and whatnots. It wasnât that I was embarrassed about what I did; I just had a hard time with peopleâs perceptions and prejudices. Some people warmed to my work right away and saw the beauty and hard work I put into it, while some people wrinkled their noses and asked, âYou make actual money with that stuff?â
Yeah, those folks had given me a bit of a complex.
âI sculpt. I actually do modern pieces out of found things.â
âWell, that sounds like a fun profession.â
Jake smiled, and I felt a bit dismissed until I realized he was distracted by a U-Haul pulling in when he said, âNow, here is someone who can help you with your truck issues. Thatâs Lorcan Reid. He owns a mechanic shop in Sweet Briar. If he canât figure it out, itâs time to call in the wrecking crew.â
Another handsome man with dark brown hair and abundant laugh lines started walking toward us. I felt a fissure and chalked it off to the sight of another hunk in my presence. He, too, filled in what he was wearing nicely, a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Yeah, there was a God. I could immediately feel a bit of tension in the air between the two men, though, and Stu actually looked a bit nervous. Interesting.
âWhat lies have you been telling this lady about me, Carter? Whatever he said, it isnât true.â
He directed that last bit down at my five-foot three-inch frame with a smile and extended his hand, which I was surprised to see was smooth and clean. Bad me for immediately assuming all mechanics would have greasy, stained hands like my buddy Stu. We shook, and I looked into his warm brown eyes. He really did seem like a lovely person, but I couldnât deny that charge in the air between the men.
âNo lies. Just told Miss Hogan here, who is visiting from New York State, that you were the best mechanic in all of Sweet Briar, if not the state of Georgia.â
Even with that glowing accolade, both men stared a long minute at each other. I supposed there was definitely some unpleasant history between them. Lorcan smirked and looked away first, back at me. Stu looked between the two men and nervously mentioned hub bearings and tie rods and differentials, which was all Chinese to me. Lorcan held out his hand, and for a minute, I thought he wanted to hold mine. Down, girl. Then I realized he probably wanted my truck keys. I knew I was blushing and ducked my head while I dug through my bag again but was unable to find them. I heard a throat clearing.
âYou might want to try the ignition. Itâs where ye left âem.â
Stu chose that moment to contribute and just added to my embarrassment, for I was most definitely flustered by all this testosterone floating around. Jake and Lorcanâs, anyway. Stu could keep his testosterone to himself.
I moved out of the way of the driver door and sheepishly smiled up at Lorcan while motioning that he should get in. As he climbed into my truck and turned over the engine, he paused and looked at me as if to say, âComing?â I scrambled around to the other side, embarrassed when I realized I left my giant bag of black jellybeans open and had managed to spill a plethora of the little buggers everywhere as I drove and munched. Lorcan didnât seem to notice, though. I put on my seat belt and made a little wave toward Jake and Stu and prepared myself for the clunking racket that freaked me out. âIâll load Stuâs things into the U-Haul then drive him back to town in my Mercedes. You got this?â Jake called out as we began rolling. Lorcan nodded yes and waved out the window. âIâll leave the U-Haul key with the attendant!â
Jake smiled at me, and I thought, He drives a Mercedes, nice.
As we eased out of the parking lot and onto the roadway, Lorcan reached out and patted the dash.
âThis is a sweet ride you have here. Sixty-seven?â
âSixty-eight. I got a great deal on him two years ago and have been keeping him going with religious oil changes and prayer.â I smiled and fondly patted the dash myself. âHeâs a good truck, but I donât think he was quite prepared for an eight hundred and eighty-odd mile journey south.â
âHe?â Lorcan smiled to let me know he wasnât belittling me.
âHis name is George. Itâs a good solid name for a Ford truck, I think.â
âGeorge it is, then. Is your family into the hardware busi- ness or some such? I noticed the logo on your truck.â
I chuckled and informed him that not only was I probably the second or even third owner of the truck, I didnât think Scramble Hardware even existed any more in New York. But I liked the old-timey look of it painted on the doors.
âWhat part of Upstate New York are you from?â
Lorcan was a stranger who seemed nice enough, but I didnât feel I should give him too much information, especially since I didnât know who in these parts might know my mother and where she ran off to, so I thought it best to fudge a little.
âOh, the Catskill Mountain area, a small town no one has ever heard of. What about you? Have you lived inâŚwhat was it called? Sweet Briar? Have you lived there your entire life?â
Lorcan nodded yes and went on to tell me that he inherited his mechanic shop from his father Henry, who inherited it from his father Malcom. Henry was retired, driving his mom, Eileen, nuts and spending most of his days fishing. His dad was good enough in his hobby to have some for his mom to clean every night if she wantedâshe didnât. I laughed along with Lorcanâs description of both of his parents and the trials and tribulations of retired life. It sounded idyllic to me, who had only known what it was like being with an undemonstrative parent and no close relations.
âAnd your name, Lorcan, that is a different one Iâve not heard before. Gosh, and I am sorry if that was a rude thing to say!â There I went embarrassing myself again. Maybe it was a family name or had special meaning, and here I was making what could be construed as a negative comment about it, however unintentionally. But Lorcan just laughed and didnât seem all that upset about my asking.
âItâs Irish. It means âLittle Fierce One,â or so my mother insists. She is Irish, and I think she named me that just to vex my Scottish dad. Theyâve had this hilarious rivalry going on for as long as I can remember. Besides, he wanted to name me Angus.â
âOh, that just would not do. You definitely do not look like an Angus! Lorcan suits you!â
âDoes that mean I look fierce?â His eyes crinkling in the corners made me see this was just friendly banter and that he was teasing me.
Wait, was he flirting with me? I was so out of practice with men and flirting. Even just talking to people had been limited. Iâd been sequestered away in a hospice, and I didnât have many deep conversations with my coffee customers. They were all in such a hurry to get to their jobs in the morning and get their java fix.
âYou lookâŚnice.â Oh, mental palm slap to the forehead.
Good one there, Lily. Such. A. Dork.
My truck saved me from more embarrassment by making its loud, nerve-wracking noises and distracting Lorcan into what I assumed was diagnosis mode. He pulled over to the side of the road, got out, and dropped to the ground, rolling under the back end and staying there for quite some time. I waited for a few minutes then undid my seatbelt and hopped out of the passenger side, wandering over to where his legs were poking out from under my truck. He made some mechanic âhmmmâ and âhuhâ noises then crawled out from under it. When he came back up, he had a bit of grease on his forehead as if he swiped the lock of hair that kept being unruly back in place. Hey, I noticed these details!
âWhat engine do you have in this baby? Do you know?â
âUm, I think it still has the original Ford 300ci six- cylinder engine in there, but thatâs as much as I can tell you. I only know that because my friend back home is dating a guy who is a car and truck nut, and he kept saying how impressed he was that it had the original Ford engine in thereâŚand that it is knocking on two hundred ninety-eight thousand miles.â
At first, Lorcan seemed impressed with my knowledge, then his eyes dulled a little as I went on and on with my explanation. I got it, a chick who knew nothing about cars, sue me.
âAt least itâs not a Caterpillar engine. Iâve spent the last two weeks fighting with one before it finally gave up the ghost.â Lorcan laughed a little, shaking his head at the memory, so I guessed it was some battle he wrought against it.
âThere ainât nothing like a Caterpillar engine.â Where did that come from? I really needed to stop my mouth from inanely running like it was.
âJack Crews, aka Patrick Swayze, Black Dog, 1998.â
Whoa. That was the fastest anyone ever came back with an answer after I made one of my lame movie quotes, and Lorcan was one hundred percent correct.
âIâm impressed, sir. That was an obscure quote from an even more obscure movie that wasnât a hit or anything.â
Lorcan smiled with a flash of white teeth. âYeah, but they filmed part of it down the road a bit in Cleveland, Georgia, and my cousin Fred got to be an extra in it and everything. Did you know that?â
I smiled right back at this man who was truly easy on the eyes and stated, âHeck, I didnât even know there was a Cleveland, Georgia, let alone that a movie was filmed there. And I donât know your cousin Fred!â
That got a full-on laugh out of him, and we both stood there a minute smiling at each other. Okay then, I deduced I wasnât too bad at this communicating with another human being stuff. At least he found me somewhat amusing; it could be worse.
âHere, letâs get back in your truck. These mosquitos are eating me alive!â
I agreed and turned to hop back in when I saw my Pisces charm had fallen out of my pocket and was lying on the ground. I made a small âEep!â sound and bent over to retrieve it then continued to my seat, slightly embarrassed, although I didnât think Lorcan noticed. It was a little girlsâ charm, and I felt a bit foolish carrying it around, butâŚwell, it was a link to my past. A past I had forgotten.
Lorcan joined me in the truck cabin, put his seatbelt on, and turned my truck on.
âWell, I have good news and bad news, and I wonât beat around the bush about it and keep you in suspense. The bad news is you seem to have an issue with your driveshaft, looks to be a u-joint has worn out. Thatâs whatâs causing the noise, and before you ask me, yes, it can be fixed. The good news is I can take it to my mechanic shop and would be happy to take care of it for you if you tell me where you are heading to. I can at least try to get you settled inâŚunless you want it towed somewhere else?â
I blinked up at my hero and told him my plans.
âWell, you are heading my way, in fact. I am heading to Sweet Briar to scout some areas for a possible art studio since Iâve been considering a permanent move there if I like what I find.â
I wasnât sure what I said wrong, but Lorcanâs eyes clouded over, and he began looking at me with some suspicion. What had I said wrong to break the convivial mood we were sharing? I opened my mouth to say more, but Lorcan stopped me with a dire statement.
âWhat are you up to, miss? When we just spoke a minute ago, you pretended not to know the name Sweet Briar. Now you tell me that was your destination all along. Moreover, no one heads to Sweet Briar to move permanent like. Not without being invited first.â
What a fun, entertaining start to this new witchy mystery series!
Lily is smart and snarky and funny, and she's not the only one! The author did a great job giving us many clever characters to populate Sweet Briar, Georgia. However, I have to admit that I especially enjoyed Lily's great-grandmother, Adriana, (whom she physically resembles in the most uncanny fashion), and loved their snappy verbal sparring. There is a scene where the two square off with each other that is hilarious. Lily and Adriana are very alike even though they are generations apart and have been separated for most of Lilyâs life. I look forward to more interaction between the two in the future, especially as Lily begins to come to grips with her new-found witchy powers and learns from the familyâs matriarch. In addition, I was glad that Lily finds some nice relatives and friends in the town after her isolated, emotionally-deprived, younger life.
Then there are the love interests! First of all, I liked that there is a romantic plotline, and that in this book, it remains at the beginning stages. Lily doesnât just jump at the first pretty face. (There are choices!) She takes note, but displays some natural hesitation and common sense. And there is tension from her not knowing who she can trust and who has hidden motives or agendas. We don't really know for sure who the good guys are as the story progresses and because there are still secrets and unanswered questions at the end of the book, we are going to have a niggling uncertainty for a bit longer. But I liked that, and I think it will be fun to see where this goes in future books.
The town of Sweet Briar is full of surprises and engaging characters, and it is depicted as Small Town USA. Just like your typical small town, everyone knows everyone else, their background, and most of their secrets. It just happens to be a haven for witches hiding in plain sight.
There are a lot of secrets to tease out in this town and these witch families. And because all the mysteries that arise in HOME SWEET WITCH are not resolved by the final page, there is a lot of room for future novels in the series.
I recommend this book for cozy mystery readers that enjoy elements of magic, romance, witches, and witchcraft in their stories.
I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving a free copy.