Love Potion No. 69 (Sacred River, Book 1)

Two families. One flower. One undeniable attraction.

He’s only 27, but Quinton Henry is running out of time. As the reluctant heir to the world’s most renowned perfume manufacturer, he’s under pressure to craft a memorable scent for the company’s fast-approaching 150th anniversary. And he’s close: all he has to do is convince the owners of a small farm in Sacred River to hand over cuttings of a plant that stopped growing in Canada a century ago.

Clementine Rowan has a plan to stop being known as the baby of the sisters: create the mythical love potion her family was once known for. She’s closing in on the perfect combination, and doesn’t have time to deal with the entitled Canadian who keeps asking about her plants.

Tired of getting the runaround and determined to finally live up to his family’s expectations, Quinton decides to confront the woman who won’t answer his inquiries. Unfortunately for him, he’s woefully unprepared for the sisters of Sacred River.

When Clementine and Quinton finally come face to face, the attraction is more than chemical. It’s explosive.

ONCE UPON A time, there was a princess…
Nope. Not accurate.
Once upon a time, there was a girl…
Scratch that. Everyone treats me like I’m far younger than my twenty-seven years, so let’s try that again.
I hold the glass jar up, the sun’s light refracting through the clear liquid, and hold my breath as I slowly pour the Elysian Blossom essence in.
“Please don’t cloud, don’t cloud, don’t...son of a biscuit eater!” Sighing, I set the jar down, put the vial of essence back in the refrigerator, and grab my notebook and pencil. Love potion number 68, bust.
Once upon a time, there was a botanist who was tired of her sisters treating her like a baby, so she decided to recreate the famous love potion her family was once known for. Except the potion was never written down, and the botanist’s mother only remembered how it smelled instead of what was in it, which was supremely unhelpful. So the botanist toiled day after day in her greenhouse laboratory, her only exposure to sunlight the rays that came through the glass surrounding her, and definitely no prince to speak of.
Better. Except when would I actually have time for a prince? Also, it’s the twenty-first century in America, and unless I’m aiming for the British guy who’s living on the West Coast with his gorgeous wife and family after having told the crown to shove it, then no prince for me.
I finish my notes, then pull my hair into a bun and secure it with a pencil right as my sister Magnolia comes into the greenhouse.
“Hey, Clemmy-clem-Clementine!” she calls, her voice as bright as the sun outside. “Figured I’d find you in here.” She holds out a mug of tea as she approaches, and I take it gratefully.
“Thank you.” I inhale the aroma before sipping, because as grateful as I am for the tea, I also know my family’s tendencies when it comes to tea. Granted, Magnolia is the second-oldest of us and generally behaves herself, but there’s a lot of things growing on our land that can be put to mischievous use. All I smell is lemon and verbena, so I’m going to assume it’s safe. After a small sip, I grin and take a larger drink.
She quirks a dark brow at me. “So suspicious,” she chides.
“Do you blame me?” I ask, taking another deep gulp. It’s the perfect temperature, and none of us have figured out how to keep a ceramic cup heated, so I need to drink it now.
Magnolia laughs. “No, I don’t. But I’m here with a favor.”
I sigh. “I swear, if you’re here to ask me to call Hazel and beg her to come home for a visit—”
“No, not that,” she says. “Not today, anyway.”
“Then what?”
She hesitates, and instantly I’m on edge.
“Mags, out with it. You’re freaking me out. None of you ever ask for a favor, unless it’s to help play a trick on someone, and I’m really busy—”
“Could you come talk to my class on Tuesday?”
I stop mid-sentence, clamping my mouth shut and squinting at her through my glasses. “I’m sorry. Did you just ask me to come speak to your class?”
She nods, a hopeful look in her amber eyes. “I thought I’d let them see what a career that uses chemistry looks like.”
I sigh. “You know how much I hated high school. Why would I willingly go back there?”
“Because your favorite sister is begging you? Because I’m the only one who doesn’t give you shit on a constant basis? Because—”
“Fine,” I cut her off, knowing it’s better to give in than endure the constant stream of reasons she’ll come up with. “I’ll do it. You owe me.”
She jumps up and down and rushes me, wrapping me in a crushing hug and saying “thank you” on repeat. I manage to save the tea, but only barely. When she lets me go, I finish it and hand the cup back to her.
“You need to send me a calendar appointment. Otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for missing it,” I say.
She flashes me a wide smile. “You got it.” Then she assesses my work station. “Now that I’ve gotten the boring stuff out of the way, how’s it going?”
I let out a frustrated groan. “Horribly. I thought I was onto something, but the last batch clouded as soon as I put the Elysian Blossom essence in.”
Magnolia’s eyes widen. “You’re using Elysian Blossom?”
I smile. “Yep.”
She frowns. “But—but it only blooms once every hundred years. It’s extremely rare. Our family is the only one that even has seeds, and you know how important it is to us, Clementine.”
I cross my arms, instantly on the defensive. “Quit using your teacher voice on me, Mags.”
She’s not fazed. “Clearly, someone has to. Does Mom know?”
I grind my teeth. This is exactly why I don’t like my family to come in here. Never mind that I’m a grown woman with a degree and plenty of common sense. All they see are the messes I made as a little girl with insatiable curiosity. The burn on my right hand and arm, the color of an over-ripe strawberry against my olive skin, doesn’t let them forget, either.
“Well? Does she?” Magnolia prompts.
“She doesn’t, and she doesn’t need to,” I shoot back.
Magnolia barks a laugh. “You’re hilarious. Mom will kill you.”
She won’t. But Mags doesn’t know that. “Could you for once, just once, pretend that I might actually know what I’m doing?” I keep my voice calm and even, despite preferring to screech at her. “Pretend, for just a moment, that I have been doing this research for five years. Pretend that I’m the one who tends to our land. Pretend that I might have figured out a way to force the flower to bloom when I want it to, and that I’ve managed to capture its essence in a way that doesn’t harm it.”
She shakes her head. “You’re begging for trouble.”
“I’m really not. I know what I’m doing,” I repeat. And if Mom bothered to pay any attention to me, or to come knocking on the greenhouse door, I’d have happily shown her what I was doing, the progress I was making.
My phone pings from beneath my notebook, and we both turn in its direction.
“Who’s that?” Magnolia asks.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t looked yet. Also, it’s none of your business.”
“Since when has that stopped me?” she asks, angling her body to look at the screen with me. Then she snorts. “Who is ‘Entitled Canadian Asshole’?”
I smash the phone against my chest. “No one.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case.”
I consider her eager eyes and the way they betray her carefully presented patience. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a sister on my side, and honestly, if I could choose the sister to go to battle with, it’s always going to be Mags. She is the one who gives me the least shit, and in my family, that’s saying something. “It’s this man, Quinton Henry.”
She gasps. “The perfume prince of Canada?”
The effort it takes for me to not roll my eyes at that ridiculous nickname should win me an award. “Yes.”
“What does he want?”
“Christ, Mags—why don’t you stop talking and I’ll tell you?” I huff.
Properly chastised for a whole two seconds, she nods.
I continue. “He wants to buy Elysian Blossom seeds.”
Immediately, every part of her goes on high alert. “Absolutely not.”
I smile wryly. “Yeah, no shit. And that’s what I’ve continued to tell him, but it’s not sinking in.”
“So what’s he saying now?”
I hold the phone so we can read it together.
Entitled Canadian
I’m certain I can convince you. Please send me your address. I’ll be there tomorrow.
Magnolia sucks in a breath. “He’s coming here? To Sacred River?”
Forcing down the spike of anger at the man’s audacity, I answer. “It would appear so.”
“Does he have any clue what he’s walking into?”
“Not even remotely.”
She chuckles. “Well. Guess we’ll have to show the perfume prince of Canada a good time.”