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Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One
Enter to win one of eight digital copies of Marsha A. Moore’s first book in her Enchanted Bookstore Legends series, SEEKING A SCRIBE.
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Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One
Genre: Fantasy romance
Description:
Lyra McCauley is a writer and loves fantasy novels, but
until she opens a selection from bookstore owner Cullen Drake, she has no idea
he’s a wizard character who lives a double life inside that volume…or the
story’s magic will compel her from the edge of depression to adventure, danger,
and love.
His gift to Lyra, the Book of Dragonspeir, was actually her
copy, misplaced years ago. Lost in her pain following divorce and death, she
fails to recognize him as her childhood playmate from the fantasyland.
Friendship builds anew. Attraction sparks. But Lyra doubts whether a wizard is
capable of love. She’s torn—should she protect her fragile heart or risk new
love?
Opening the book’s cover, she confronts a quest: save
Dragonspeir from destruction by the Black Dragon before he utilizes power of
August’s red moon to expand his strength and overthrow the opposing Imperial
Dragon. Lyra accepts the challenge, fearing Cullen will perish if evil wins.
Along with magical animal guides, Cullen helps her through many perils, but
ultimately Lyra must use her own power…and time is running out.
Get it at Amazon
Excerpt:
Chapter One: Licorice Memories
The smell of anise greeted Lyra as she opened the door to
Drake’s bookstore. It took her back to happy childhood memories.
Licorice-shoe-string-rewards for following her parents’ requests to stay on the
dock while they secured the family’s pleasure boat to its trailer. The aroma
brought a fleeting remembrance of times long gone, a treasure now that her
folks had recently passed. At ease with the familiar scent, she settled into
browsing through rows of antique bookcases.
The shop owner stuck his head around a set of shelves. “Do
you like tea?”
“Yes, I do.” Before she could finish speaking, he
disappeared. “Is that the wonderful smell?” she called out.
Kitchenware clinked in the back room. Receiving no answer,
Lyra followed the noises, scanning collections as she walked. This bookshop
appeared established, but surely she would have remembered it from her last
visit to the Lake Huron village five years ago. Books were her passion,
especially fantasy. She paused in front of that section and studied its titles.
The owner appeared, holding a pewter tray with a teapot, two
cups, sugar jar, spoons, and napkins, which he laid on the corner of an old
library table. She watched him carefully pour the tea and hand her a cup. He
was about her age, mid thirties or a bit older, and handsome. His medium brown
hair, peppered with gray at the temples, grazed his shoulders in wavy layers,
and his beard was trimmed into a neat goatee. He wore long shorts, a knit golf
shirt, and sandals—typical casual attire for this island resort community.
She set down her bag from the drugstore and accepted his
offer with a smile. “Thanks. My name’s Lyra.” She blew across the hot surface
of the tea to cool it and then inhaled the anise-scented steam. She closed her
eyes to fully enjoy the memory. “Ah!”
“Afternoons of boating and licorice with your parents?
Right?” he asked.
Her mouth dropped open. How did he know that?
He slurped from his cup. “Go ahead, take a sip. My folks
gave me the same reward for taking my kid sister along on bicycle rides.”
Forgetting all about the tea, she asked, “How do you know my
childhood memory?”
“Taste it.” His lips curled into a sly grin as he took
another gulp.
She cautiously took a tiny sip, just enough to wet her lips
and the tip of her tongue. The flavor
flooded her mouth, and her mind swam with wonderful memories. The taste
transformed into that of gigantic popcorn balls the sheriff’s wife down the street
made for Halloween trick-or-treaters, accompanied by images of Lyra’s costume—a
red, fringed gypsy skirt borrowed from Mom. Next came a pumpkin flavor and
vision of holding a cold piece of “punky-pie” in her five-year-old hand.
Another swallow returned her experience back to anise. “What is this? How did
you know?”
“Let me introduce myself.” His grin spread into a smile as
his eyes met hers. He took a step closer. “I’m Cullen, Cullen Drake, and I know
many things. What I don’t know is what sort of books you like to read.”
His keen interest caused heat to rise in her cheeks. “Well,
actually I have several favorites, all fantasy and magical realism. You have a
number of authors I like in this section.” She turned to refer to the shelves
behind her, but found non-fiction hunting guides instead. “This case held
classic fantasy a moment ago!”
Cullen put down his cup. “It moved. It’s over here, and I
have just what you want.” He slid an old-fashioned library ladder along its
track, set the locking device, and climbed straight up to the top shelf.
Lyra followed, walking between four comfortable leather club
chairs grouped on a Persian rug. A portrait of a young girl and a man wearing a
cloak caught her attention. Something seemed familiar in the child’s smile.
The noise of books sliding on shelves distracted her. She
moved to the base of his ladder and glanced up. The ceiling of embossed tin
panels decorated with Victorian teardrop chandeliers and paper Chinese dragons
made a unique combination, to be sure.
But Lyra was more curious about the strange happenings in
the store and its owner. He was
certainly odd, although not the bookish, geeky sort who usually ran bookshops
she frequented. He had an athletic frame and strong legs.
“Can’t find it!” he exclaimed and quickly descended. His
brow furrowed, he dusted off his hands on his shorts. “I’ve got to find that
volume for you. If you don’t mind me saying, there’s a sadness about you. The
book will make you happier than you’ve been since those days of licorice shoe
strings.”
“After magical tea and shifting bookcases, I almost believe
you.” She laughed to cover her concerns. Even four months after it was final,
she worried that the loneliness she felt after her divorce blazed like a beacon
on her forehead. But, Cullen knew so much—it startled her…actually, intrigued
her. Her ex didn’t ever see inside her, didn’t want to. This man read her as
though he knew her. Did he? He seemed so familiar.
“Once I find that book, I promise, you’ll be pleased.” He
stroked his goatee. “Hmm. Where did I last see it?” The twinkle in his
gray-blue eyes captivated Lyra. “Will you be here for the week? I can look for
it and call you later.”
“I’m staying the rest of the summer with my elderly Aunt
Jean. She owns a lovely cottage at the end of Walnut overlooking Lake Huron. I
thought I’d keep her company and give her time away from her nurse during my
teaching break. While I’m here, I plan to write my novel.”
“Great! You’re a writer? What do you teach?”
“Yes, and I teach American Literature at Southern University
in Florida. Seems like you already would’ve known that since you jumped into my
childhood memories,” she stammered, attempting some humor. Taking a long
draught of the tea, her mind filled with memories of her pet dachshund wiggling
next to her, displacing a row of dolls. Another part of her past he
knew—impossible! Her forehead beaded with sweat.
“No, only thoughts associated with a lot of emotion, like
the happiness of snuggling with your dog.”
“How?” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I don’t
understand.” Her mind swam, trying to grasp what happened. She desperately
needed some fresh air. With trembling hands she set the cup down.
“I realize it must seem odd, but the book I’m looking for
will help explain.” He leaned closer with a smile that somehow reassured her.
“This is Saturday. If you can come by next Wednesday morning, I think I should
have it for you by then…if you’d like.” He paused and looked into her eyes,
waiting for a reply.
“Yes…I’m curious.” In spite of the confusion, she found
herself agreeing. “Wednesday will work.”
“Fine. Let me take down your number in case I can’t find
it.” He walked to the counter and located a notepad and pen. She dictated her
number and full name, which he repeated, “Lyra McCauley, a lovely Celtic name
for a pretty lady.”
“I think I need to go now. Thanks for the tea.” With shaking
fingers, she collected her shopping bag and headed toward the door.
He escorted her out and offered his hand to shake, the
corners of his goatee lifting into an inviting grin. “Enjoy the rest of your
weekend.”
Lyra smiled and looked into his eyes, trying to discern his
unusual clairvoyant gift. “You too.” The initial touch, of his palm against
hers, sent electrical shivers along her arm. She jerked, yet didn’t let go,
fascinated by the strong emotions flashing through her mind—attraction,
excitement, and acceptance. After an awkwardly long pause, she dropped his
hand, half-stumbled over the threshold into the sunshine, and took a long, deep
breath.
She ambled to an outdoor café a couple blocks farther down
Tenth Street, while her mind buzzed with questions. How did he know those
things about her? She dropped onto a seat at an empty table, shaded by an
umbrella. He was fascinating and frightening at the same time…and familiar. Her
divorce and loss of her parents left her lonely. He intrigued her.
“May I get you
something to drink while you look over the menu?” The waitress interrupted with
a bright young voice, a college student working a summer job.
Startled back to reality, Lyra murmured, “Just water,
please.” Alone in a crowd of lunch goers, her thoughts returned to the
bookstore and many unanswered questions.
The waitress placed a glass of water in front of her.
She almost hated to drink and remove the sweet aftertaste of
anise from her tongue.
Author Bio:
Marsha A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of
art and nature spark life into her writing. Her creativity also spills into
watercolor painting and drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008,
she’s happily transforming into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy
about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning
kayaking and already addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade
and that spiritual quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She
never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new
stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!
Website:
http://MarshaAMoore.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore
Fantasy Faction staff page: http://fantasy-faction.com/staff-members?uid=38
Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore
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2 comments:
Mila, thanks for featuring my book today at your place!
Thank you so much for being here!! I appreciate it!
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