LOVE AT FIRST BOOK BY JENN MCKINLAY – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jenn McKinlay
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.8 MB
- Price: Free
“Em, are you all right?” Samantha Gale, my very best friend,
answered her phone on the fourth ring. Her voice was rough with
sleep and it belatedly occurred to me that nine o’clock in the morning in
Finn’s Hollow, Ireland, was four o’clock in the morning in Oak Bluffs,
Martha’s Vineyard.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Damn it, I woke you up, didn’t I?” I asked, feeling awful
about it.
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“No, it’s fine,” Sam said. “I told you when you left that I’m always here
for you.” There was a low grumbling in the background and she added,
“And Ben says he’s here for you, too.”
That made me laugh. Sam and Ben had become couple goals for me.
Not that I thought I’d ever find anything like the connection they’d made,
but they kept the pilot light of my innermost hope aflame.
“Thank you and Ben,” I said. “I’m going to hang up now. Forget I ever
called.”
“Emily Allen, don’t you dare,” Sam said. Now she sounded fully awake.
Oops.
“No, really I—” I began but she interrupted me.
“Tell me why you’re calling, otherwise I’ll worry.” There was more
grumbling in the background. Sam laughed and said, “Ben says he’s
begging you to tell me so that I don’t drive him crazy with speculation.”
I grinned. She would, too. Then I grew serious.
Glancing around the Last Chapter, the quaint bookshop in which I was
presently standing, I noted objectively that it was a booklover’s dream come
true. A three-story stone building chock-full of books with a small café,
where the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, berry-filled scones, and cinnamon
pastry permeated the air. I felt myself lean in that direction as if the
delicious aromas were reeling me in.
One of the employees had unlocked the front door of the shop, and I had
trailed in behind a handful of customers who’d been waiting. I’d been agog
ever since.
This was it. The bookshop where I’d be working for the next year. My
heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. The black wool turtleneck
sweater I was wearing, in an attempt to defeat the early November chill, felt
as if it were choking me and I was quite sure the pain spearing through my
head meant I was having an aneurysm.
“I’m supposed to meet my boss in a few minutes, and I think I’m having
a heart attack or potentially a stroke,” I said.
There was a beat of silence then Sam said, “Tell me your symptoms.”
I listed them all and she noted each one with an “uh-huh,” which told
me nothing whatsoever as to what she thought about my condition. I was
three thousand miles away and starting a new job in a bookshop, having put
my career as a librarian on Martha’s Vineyard on hold to chase some crazy
fantasy where I traveled to a foreign destination and lived a life full of
adventure.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I groaned.
“Inhale,” Sam said. “You know the drill—in for eight seconds, hold for
four, out for eight.”
I sucked in a breath. Ouch. “I can’t. It makes my head throb. See?
Aneurysm.”
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