The Bookshop On The Corner. Rebecca Raisin

to try. You’re perfect just the way you are, and the quicker you see that, the better.” She sashayed over to me and joined me on the sofa. “I think broadening your horizons is a great idea but don’t go changing who you are.”

      “I won’t,” I promised. “It’s time for this little bookworm to scramble from the pages for a few days, at least.”

      Missy leaned in to hug me. “Who knows? Maybe you won’t need to. Maybe change will blow in on the wind under the guise of a six-foot-tall, dark, and handsome stranger.”

      “You romantic, you,” I said, and rested my head on her shoulder.

      ***

      Later that day, I was finishing an order for a client who collected old comics, when Mary-Rose, a regular, walked in. She worked down the street a way, selling aromatic candles, and beautiful bath products.

      “You literally smell like peaches, Mary-Rose,” I said.

      “I’ve just made a batch of peaches and cream bath bombs. The whole shop smells divine!”

      Mary-Rose made everything from scratch using natural products; often the scent would meld its way down the street, having us scurry up to see what concoction she’d made this time. “I’m still in love with the marshmallow bath bombs. They make my whole house smell gorgeous for days after. You’re an alchemist.”

      Mary-Rose grinned. “That’s what I keep telling Paul, but will he listen? No!”

      Paul was Mary-Rose’s husband, who originally told her it was preposterous opening up a bath shop in Ashford. That she’d go broke before the first week was out. But she hadn’t. It seemed the townsfolk of Ashford adored her products, and what girl didn’t like smelling as if she’d just bathed in a tub of peaches?

      “Paul will work it out eventually, once you’re sunning yourself in Spain, a holiday paid with the profits!”

      “Wouldn’t that be something?” she said longingly before shaking her head. “Must not think of Spain. I’ll get the worst hankering for tapas and I’m not likely to find them around here, unless I get Lil to expressly cater them for me. Now, I’m looking for a book.”

      “What kind of book?” I moved around the counter.

      Mary-Rose scratched her chin. “It’s got a red cover.”

      I tried to keep the grin off my face. “A red cover, right. Do you know the title?”

      “Hmm, no.”

      “The author? Or genre?”

      Mary-Rose crossed her arms, and gazed around the shop. “Well, no…I think it might be classed as romance, but it could also be family saga.”

      It never ceased to amaze me when customers enquired about a book they wanted purely based on the color of the cover. As though there were only a few books in all the world with a red cover, and it was just a matter of narrowing it down.

      “Family saga, well, let’s start there,” I said. “Come down the back, Mary-Rose. I think I have just the book you’re after.”

      I’m sure the books rustled in anticipation, and somehow we found the mysterious red-covered volume Mary-Rose was searching for. That was the inexplicable magic books held over us mere mortals.

      ***

      After a long night at the kitchen table poring over the paperwork for the bookshop, I’d eventually given up, and gone to bed with a regency romance. Debonair heroes were just what the doctor ordered, and I’d ended up finishing the book just as midnight struck.

      I’d fallen into a restless sleep, dreaming about my life and how to make the bookshop a little more successful. Words flashed through my mind, until I plucked a couple from my dream. Book blogging. It couldn’t hurt to start a blog, discussing my love of books, and what the bookshop had in stock. Maybe I’d review books as I read them. Start discussions on the latest trends, including the popularity of the eBook. I knew there were a lot of books being published that were only in digital format, and, being a voracious reader, I didn’t want to miss out purely because they weren’t in paper form. Either way, a daily blog post could only help the bookshop, and who knew what might come of it? Energized, I got up in the pre-dawn darkness and dressed for another day at the bookshop.

      ***

      “Book blogging?” Missy cried. “That’s about the greatest thing I’ve ever heard of! I follow a bunch of lifestyle blogs, and they’re great! I can’t believe we haven’t thought of this before.” Her forehead furrowed. “At any rate, it’s not too late. And, you know, you can have a link to your online store too.”

      I’d been waiting all morning for Missy to arrive to tell her my plans. “Right, well, today The Bookshop on the Corner blog will be born!”

      Missy sipped her coffee and then said, “The possibilities are endless. You can do a monthly book club, or monthly discounts, book bundles, all sorts of things…”

      I inched forward on the high-back chair in the reading room. “Guest authors, interviews, I’m in heaven just considering it.”

      Missy stood, and kissed my cheek. “Let me know when it’s up, sugar, and I’ll send it out to my veritable treasure trove of online friends.”

Chapter Three

      The Bookshop on the Corner blog took off moments after I sent the link to clients old and new and my friends in Ashford. It seemed people loved to read about daily life in a second-hand bookshop. Within a month, I had over three thousand followers, and the numbers grew daily. I’d met a community of other book bloggers who were supportive, and funny, and felt like real friends.

      Orders poured in for vintage Harlequin romance books, so I’d been busy scouring my usual sources trying to find more. I was as busy as I’d ever been, and this new venture had given me a major confidence boost. Women emailed me daily with stories about their lives, and how books had been there for them when times were tough. It reminded me of the Ernest Hemingway quote, ‘There is no friend as loyal as a book.’ And this new cluster of online friends made me cherish our shared passion, always and for ever — reading. I’d found people who were just like me, and it made me feel as though I could do anything, and be myself and that I was enough. It changed me almost overnight, giving me a sense of self-assurance I’d never had before.

      The cloud of feeling lost that had hung over me the weeks before had vanished as quickly as it had come. For the first time in ages I was invigorated, and felt that the world — albeit virtually — was opening up to me, as I tried to open up to it.

      ***

      After scheduling my blog post for the morning I gave into temptation and settled behind the counter with my book, promising myself I’d only read for ten minutes. Twenty if I finished on an odd-numbered page. Thirty if I was stuck halfway through a chapter. OK, I’d stop when a customer walked in.

       A silhouette loomed through the open doorway blocking out the last vestiges of the summer sun. The half-shadow seemed rugged, masculine. A second later, a man stepped over the threshold of the bookshop dipping his hat. The girl held her breath, hoping the stranger would be as handsome as his powerful saunter implied. She gulped as he stood in front of her; the orange glow of the overhead light lit up his face, highlighting his chiseled cheekbones, and piercing gaze, making her mute with desire…

      “Excuse me, miss?”

      The book fell from my hands as the presence of a man startled me. There he was, the rugged stranger with chiseled cheekbones, and a look in his eye that screamed take me to bed!

      It took a moment for my brain to unscramble and realize I was not in fact living out the scene I had just read. Actually, it took far too long for me to understand that I was staring at him, my eyes wide, jaw hanging open, like some kind of fool. Gathering my thoughts, I coughed,