Summer's Glory: Seasons of Faith Book One (Arcadia Valley Romance 2) by Hathaway Mary Jane & Valley Arcadia

Author:Hathaway, Mary Jane & Valley, Arcadia [Hathaway, Mary Jane]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.”

― Emma Goldman

Silas stepped into Page Turners and felt himself automatically relax at the smell of books. He was a carpenter and was most at home working with wood, but books were a close second. Simply the sight of the packed shelves made him smile.

Irene, the owner, was at the front desk and they exchanged friendly waves. “I’ve only got about fifteen minutes to find a book,” he called over to her.

“Or two,” Irene said with a knowing look.

Her niece, Kenia, looked up from where she was opening a box and flashed a smile. “Or three,” she said.

“You know me so well.” Silas turned toward his favorite aisle, feeling the warmth of belonging to a community large enough to have a little privacy, but small enough that the bookstore owners knew your reading habits.

That feeling of warmth turned to surprise as someone walked directly into Violet Tam. He managed to check his speed the second before they made contact so instead of knocking her backward onto the hard floor, he merely pushed her off balance. She let out a grunt of surprise and dropped the book in her hands. Gripping her arms, he struggled to avoid stepping on her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. Just his luck that the moment he got close to her again, he’d run her over like a raging bull.

She looked up at him and laughed softly. “We’ve got to stop meeting this way.”

Was she flirting with him? His face went hot. He wanted her to be flirting with him but it seemed so unlikely. It was much more likely to be her dry sense of humor rather than any romantic overture. “In the mystery aisle?”

“Around corners.”

He tried to think of a witty response but his brain seemed to have shifted into neutral. Letting go of her arms, he bent down and picked up her book. He glanced at the cover before handing it to her.

“You’re a Dennis Lehane fan?”

“I think so.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I read a few of his short stories and really liked them. Animal Rescue was great. I’m just not sure if his books are as good, but I’m willing to give them a try.” She shot him a look. “At this point, most people say how much they liked Shutter Island and ask whether I thought Leonardo DiCaprio great.”

“Well, I can if you want,” he said, trying not to smile. Taking off his cowboy hat, he ran a hand through his hair, wishing he hadn’t come straight from the workshop and wasn’t covered in sawdust. They not only had a shared love for the mystery genre, they seemed to agree that the movie was never as good as the book. “But do you know why Dennis Lehane doesn’t write the screenplays the movie adaptations?”

She shook her head.

“He said he has no desire to perform surgery on his own child.”

She laughed and Silas felt a surge of happiness at the sound. He’d

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