The Shucker's Booktique

By J. C. McKenzie

After her fiancé dumps her and her beloved Aunt Jenny goes missing, Willa Eklund travels to Lobster Cove with a broken heart to search for Jenny while running her bookstore. When a mysterious man visits the Shucker's Booktique on a stormy night drenched in rain and covered in mud, Willa's heart melts under his stormy gaze. She wants Lon and the answers he may have, but he also has a secret. Can Willa trust him? Lon Devlin is a Tempest, a water sprite who can only take a human form during stormy nights. He rides the waves, lives by the tides, and nothing can hold him down, not even a beautiful woman. When he visits his mortal friend, he discovers she's missing and her intriguing niece has taken her place. He wants Willa, but he also wants answers. What happened to Jenny?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781628306590

Book preview

Inc.

The Shucker’s Booktique

by

J.C. McKenzie

Lobster Cove Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Shucker’s Booktique

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by J.C. McKenzie

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Faery Rose Edition, 2014

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-659-0

Lobster Cove Series

Published in the United States of America

Praise for J.C. McKenzie

"From the enticing smells of cooked lobster and melting butter, to the feel of the ocean breeze caressing your skin, the images and characters created by J.C.McKenzie wrap their arms around you and draw you into the wonderfully vivid world of THE SHUCKER’S BOOKTIQUE and Lobster Cove."

~Author Charlotte Copper

~*~

"Not only is the [SHIFT HAPPENS] world well developed but the characters really brought the story home."

~Stacy, Urban Fantasy Investigations

~*~

"Shifter stories aren’t my first choice, but SHIFT HAPPENS [Carus Series, Book 1] was so fun to read—fast-paced, action-packed, and a heroine who made me both chuckle and snort."

~Author C.J. Burright

~*~

"I loved [SHIFT HAPPENS]...I have never read a shifter or were book like this...I am so ready to read more of this story...I give this a 5 fang review."

~Paranormal Romance and Authors that Rock

~*~

"SHIFT HAPPENS is a wonderful new book from debut author J.C.McKenzie...It’s not just Andy but the wonderful cast of supporting characters that had me hooked."

~Author Charlotte Copper

~*~

Coming Soon—BEAST COAST (Carus Series, Book 2)

Dedication

This story is dedicated to the ocean lovers

who see magic in every wave.

Acknowledgments

To my wonderful critique partners: Jo-Ann Carson, Charlotte Copper and Shelly Chalmers...

To my beta reader and childhood friend, Kristi Kyle...

To my other beta reader and kindred spirit,

Jackelyn Ford…

To the Lobster Cove crew

for letting me be a part of the creation process...

To my publisher, the Wild Rose Press

for picking up this story and others...

To my cover artist, Debbie Taylor

for yet again creating a beautiful cover...

To my editor and fellow science geek, Lara Parker...

To my supportive family, amazing friends,

and my wonderful in-laws...

To my loving husband and beautiful son...

Thank you.

Your support and feedback mean the world to me.

~

May your joys be as deep as the oceans,

and your troubles as light as its foam.

At the beach, life is different. A day moves not from hour to hour but leaps from mood to moment. We go with the currents, plan around the tides, follow the sun. We measure happiness by nothing we can hold...nothing we can catch. Everywhere…Life is jumping and elusive and momentously momentary. We want to [stretch] the days, distill the memories, make them last. At the same time, we know that the beauty is in the evanescence. Every wave comes in, then retreats. Every day promises, then turns its back and slips away. Every joy has a little tease in it, a give and a take, and leaves a wake of longing.

~Sandy Gingras, How To Live At the Beach

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Willa bolted upright in bed. The white sheets clung to her damp tank top and shorts. Her gut clenched, and foreboding trickled down her spine like sweat. The shapes of the furnishings in her aunt’s second floor guest room slowly materialized as her eyes adjusted to the dark night. Rain pounded against the bedroom window, and the birch trees groaned in the gale force winds outside. She closed her eyes and inhaled the lingering smells of sea breeze air with evening primrose and night-blooming cereus.

Must’ve been thunder.

She dropped back onto the soft pillows and let sleep slide over her body again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Willa flung back the bed sheets and set her feet on the rustic wood flooring. That didn’t sound like thunder. Sounded like someone slamming his or her fist against the storm door downstairs. Her room sat above the novelty bookstore her aunt owned and operated. Currently, the other bedrooms were empty, including her aunt’s.

Who the heck would come to call at… Willa glanced at her bedside clock, and the ugly green lights glared back at her. Who the heck would knock on the door of the Shucker’s Booktique at three in the morning? On a weeknight?

The banging continued, and she lurched from the bed. Maybe someone had found her aunt. She’d been missing for five weeks, vanishing without a word from this bookstore.

Maybe it was Aunt Jenny!

Or maybe it was the cops.

She hustled to throw on her robe. Her heart thudded in her chest as she raced down the stairs and through the house. When she reached the front of the bookstore, she flipped the three deadbolts and flung the heavy oak door open.

It wasn’t her aunt.

A giant hurricane of a man stood in front of her. Easily standing above six and a half feet, his wide shoulders took up most of the doorway. Flashes of lightning illuminated porcelain, almost translucent skin, and dark, stormy eyes—thunderous clouds of gray changing to the deep blue of an angry ocean. Ink-black hair, dripping with rainwater, plastered his chiseled features and added to his severe, angular face.

His eyes had widened when she opened the door, but now they narrowed to study her. He hesitated and then stepped forward.

Willa squeaked and slammed the door closed.

Or at least tried to. He stuck his foot out and the door bounced off it to rebound into her face.

****

Lon jumped in surprise and stared at the nymph-like woman. She flailed, arms flapping in the air like a nubile chick, before she hit the floor. Her head smacked against the bookstore’s tiles with an audible crack.

Oh shit!

He slipped into the bookstore and shut the heavy door against the raging storm outside. When he knelt beside the petite brunette, he checked her pulse, nice and steady. Her skin tingled under his fingers, shooting feather light wisps of energy down his arm. He paused to close his eyes and enjoy the sweet vibrations as they radiated through his essence. Delicious and unique.

His eyes popped open and raked her body. With her robe flung open and transparent white tank top beneath, he could see everything in the streaks of lightning. The wet clothing clung to her pale skin, showing the soft curve of her breasts and pink nipples.

What was this delectable creature doing in Jenny’s booktique? At first he thought Jenny had dyed her hair; this woman a younger carbon-copy in a different colour palette. Definitely related.

Lon reluctantly got up and walked through the bookstore to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom in the back of the building. Even with the limited light, the place looked as it had the last time he’d visited, as if stuffed in some invisible time-capsule. He flicked the lights on as he moved through the old house.

Jenny? he called out at the base of the stairs. You here?

He waited, but no sing-song voice answered. Maybe she finally took that much-needed vacation. He shrugged and walked into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and soak it under the tap.

Could’ve used rain water.

As he walked back into the store’s main room, he ran his hand against the book bindings. He loved the smell and feel of books, old and new. Jenny’s place offered both. She’d converted the living and dining area of this house into a bookstore with character.

The smell of old paper and leather comforted him almost as much as spending time with his human friend. He didn’t have to pretend with Jenny. He didn’t have to be someone else. She already knew his deepest secret.

He faltered when he reached the woman at the store’s entrance. Jenny’s relative. She remained prone, sprawled out like a stunned