2. Jen

Chapter 2

Jen

D eep breath in through my nose, out through my mouth. I repeat my breathing exercises for several minutes, jumping at the sound of the bell above my shop. The stunning woman from earlier hesitantly steps in.

With a shy smile, she merely says, "Hi."

I can't help drinking her in. It's been ages since I've been with a woman—they tend to get attached—but I'd happily make an exception for this one. Staring for entirely too long, I blink away a brief fantasy of her riding my face with that flowy black dress pooling around my head, and offer a professional smile. With the sexy librarian vibes she's giving off, she may not be up for that, likely more of a ‘lights off and snuggle first' type. Hell, she may not even be into women.

But still seriously out of my league.

"Hello. I apologise, I didn't get your name earlier. "

"Oh, well, that depends," she sheepishly replies.

"Depends?" I frown.

"If I'm here as an author frequenting a bookstore, or if you'd like to join me for a drink."

Unable to hide my grin, I reply, "How about both?"

"I'm Tara Watson as an author, or Tara Allen." She shrugs.

"Tara Watson? The Tara Watson? You're fucking joking." I rush to one of my shelves with novellas I'm collecting for ‘Novella November.' Skimming the titles, I pull Fucking Flowers , which has a flower in place of the ‘u' in the title. "This is you?"

"That's me." She tucks her hair behind her ear, though there's no hair to move; it's neatly tied up in a bun.

"I fucking love your books! A famous author is here in my shop? Bloody hell! Beth and Tawny are never going to believe me!"

Tara moves closer, and the lights flicker in the shop. "Not again," I groan.

"What's wrong?"

I stifle a laugh. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Tara crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to them.

Fuck. When was the last time I got laid?

"Do you believe in magic?" I hand her the title Undecided Heiress from my Regency romance section .

"This looks like a historical romance, not paranormal." Tara cocks and eyebrow.

With my filter nowhere in sight, I word-vomit all over this beautiful creature in front of me. "All right, buckle up for a storytime. Before I left England, strange things were afoot with my friend, Anna. She had a dream that she was stuck in a book—this book. Except, it was Undecided Heir when it all began." I tap the novel and a zing of electricity zaps up my arm. I shake away the coincidence. "A couple weeks later, she met the man from that dream, James. Except, he was was obviously not fictional and they had never met before. None of it made sense. Next thing I know, I'm living here in Coal's Lake. But every so often, lights flicker, like they did just now. I choose to believe it's either a ghost, or some sort of book magic from Anna's adventure."

Tara blinks a few times, then shakes her head. "A ghost? Book magic? I'm sorry, you've lost me."

"I must sound mad. Let me start over. Hello. I'm Jen, and I don't belong in Coal's Lake."

The ground shakes beneath us and she grabs my arm to hold herself steady. Books fall from the stacks, and Tara rushes me under a table for shelter. I've never experienced an earthquake before, but I never imagined it would feel like this—figured it to be more of a ripple of the floor than the building falling down around us.

Once it settles, she lets out a long breath. "Are you okay? We haven't had one that bad that I can remember."

"Yeah, I'm fine. You?" My heart is still racing, likely due more to our proximity than the damn earthquake .

"I'm sorry, but this is a bit much for me." Tara cautiously exits our makeshift shelter and I follow her. "If you'd like for me to sign your in-stock books, I'd be happy to, but this is all too strange. Thank you for the dr?—"

Lifting my hands in front of me in surrender, I rush out, "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. My friends are coming into town later, and my opening… Now there is a pretty author in my shop." I bite my lip, shaking my head. "I'm cursed; it's the only explanation."

"More like certifiably insane," she grumbles under her breath.

"Or that."

Her eyes widen. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean?—"

"It's fine." I huff a small laugh. Glancing around the room, I have my work cut out for me. Books are scattered everywhere, trinkets and candles toppled over.

" She's only here for one night ," a voice taunts. My internal dialogue can take a back seat, now is not the time to play. Tara already thinks I'm mad. Most people do.

Except, the voice isn't my own; it's an older woman's.

Tara's brows pinch. "How do you know I'm here for the night?"

"I don't, didn't . You're only here for the night?"

"Why would you say that?I didn't tell you?—"

" A coven only takes two witches ," the voice murmurs.

"Two?" I shout into the shop. "Not according to my PNR books! "

" Fine, you need three. That's not the point. "

"That's it! I'm out." Tara pivots and makes a bee line for the front door of my shop. I can't say I blame her, I'm a bit startled by all of this myself. She pulls on the handle, but the door doesn't open. Examining it closer she asks mostly to herself, "Is there a hidden lock?"

"Here, allow me?" I hurry over—no need to keep this beautiful creature captive. When I try the door, it doesn't budge.

" The Four of Wands is in play, my pets. So is the Two of Cups. She must not leave. "

"What the fuck are you going on about?" I shout to what is likely an imaginary friend. I sound more ridiculous than Anna when she was having her dreams. But, I double down. "Cups and wands? It's not a bloody tea party with wizards!" Lowering my voice, I ask Tara, "You heard the bit about wands, yeah?"

"Yep," she replies two octaves higher than normal. "What the hell is happening?"

"Fuck if I know."