Page 2 of Goldie's Grumpy Grizzly
“Need me to send you a chef for the week so you can focus on getting it done? It’d be like old times.”
I laugh, remembering how she’d rallied our group of girlfriends into bringing me food and snacks while I worked tirelessly to meet my deadline after the first book sold. They kept me alive, kept me going, and let me fully focus on the work.
That isolation let me immerse myself in nothing but the world I was creating without any concerns for the outside world. I lived, breathed, and dreamed about the enchanted forest where Bruno, the hero of my books, resided.
Maybe that environment is just the sort of thing I need to recreate the magic of the first book that flew out of my fingertips.
An idea forms, slowly but surely, while my gaze remains transfixed on the tree branches waving in the gentle wind. It’s odd. It’s as if the trees are beckoning to me, coaxing me along the path I should be on.
“You don’t have to do that, but I think I know what I need to do.” I whirl away from the view and head back indoors. I reach for my laptop, and close the window to shut out the internet voices with all their demands and threats and gushing praise.
“What? Did I spark something? I did, didn’t I?”
I can hear the smile in her voice.
“You did.” I pull up a search engine. “I’ve got to go back to the start, Janelle. Back where it all started.”
“To the dorms?”
“No, to the place where Bruno the Bear Shifter was born. But for real this time. I’ll talk to you next week. Don’t call me, I won’t be reachable.”
I disconnect the call, cutting off her protest, and search for Wilderwood Lodges and Campground in Fable Forest. The forest and surrounding towns are well known to have a diverse population of multi-species residents. Shifters of all types, giants, orcs, and more.
It’s the town I’d used as a blueprint for the fictional setting in my own books. Visiting the source of my inspiration and spending time in the picturesque setting would be an ideal way for me to rejuvenate my passion for my characters and their stories. It’d be true immersion in a magical wood (not just my dreams), away from distractions and the pressures of staying holed up in my parents’ beach condo. It worked for me once, why not this time?
Besides, then I’d have a chance to experience the place before next year’s fan event.
Within minutes, with a few clicks and keystrokes, I’ve booked my flight, accommodation, and car rental. Then I fire off a quick email off to the owner of the lodges and get packing.
Maybe I’ll even meet a devastatingly handsome dark-haired bear shifter like Bruno.
I snort. What are the chances?
Chapter Two
Cole
“Happy birthday, dear Mama! Happy birthday to you!” my brothers and I croon loudly, alongside the crowd crammed into her favorite off-site bar on the outskirts of town.
Ordinarily, we would’ve held the party on our own grounds, inside the restaurant my younger brother, Connor, runs, but he’s having the whole place renovated before the summer holiday rush of visitors. So, while the hoots and hollers break out, Mama looks around the room with her eyes shining and the candles flickering on the enormous cake Connor created.
“Y’all didn’t have to do this,” she says, rounding up the three of us into her arms and giving us a squeeze. It’s like we’re cubs again, nestled in her strong, warm embrace. “Makin’ a big fuss over nothing.”
“It’s a milestone birthday, Ma,” Connor says. “Sixty. It’s a big one.”
Mama makes a face and gives him a little cuff by the ear. “I didn’t want a party. I wanted some grandbabies. Gimme some cute little cubs to coo over and cuddle. That’s what you should’ve been doing.”
We all groan as she leans over. Mama is nothing but persistent in her pursuit of grand-cubs.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not for lack of trying. Especially in Connor’s case,” Clayton teases.
With an arched brow leveled at each one of us, she leans over the cake, closes her eyes—undoubtedly making a wish for those precious cubs—and blows out a breath. As the candles blink out, applause erupts around us along with a round of “For She’s A Jolly Good Fellow.”
“C’mon, Osbornes, tuck in tight. Let’s get a photo.” The bar’s owner, a lumbering green orc with a gleaming golden nose ring, holds up her phone and gestures for us to assemble. I throw my arms around my brothers as we stand behind Ma. The three of us tower over her, all six-foot-plus-er’s to her barely-skimming the five-foot mark. Big, strapping bear shifters, all with her signature dark hair and wide grins. But I’m the only one who inherited her dimple—not that anyone can see it under my thick beard.
The flash goes, and I drain the last of my beer as Connor gets to work slicing and serving up the chocolate monstrosity he’d baked. And before I can slip away to let my mama be swarmed by the masses, she tucks her hand into the crook of my arm.
“You know, if y’all don’t get a move on, I’m going to be as old and gray as Miss Maebeth before I ever get to help out with any cubs of yours.” She nods in the direction of Maebeth Thierault, one of the oldest witches around Fable Forest. She’d once been a very powerful, knowledgeable witch, but in her advanced years, her mind hasn’t been nearly as sharp. Hardly anyone can make sense of the things she says these days. Doesn’t keep her from turning up to work every day, running the Mystica gift shop alongside her half-fae niece.
