Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Read online

  ENCHANTED BOOKSTORE LEGENDS

  AN EPIC FANTASY ROMANCE SERIES BY MARSHA A. MOORE

  Seeking a Scribe, Book 1

  Heritage Avenged, Book 2

  Lost Volumes, Book 3

  Staurolite, Book 4

  Quintessence, book 5

  THE ENCHANTED BOOKSTORE LEGENDS are about Lyra McCauley, a woman destined to become one of five strong women in her family who possess unique magical abilities and serve as Scribes in Dragonspeir. The Scribes span a long history, dating from 1,200 to present day. Each Scribe is expected to journey through Dragonspeir, both the good and evil factions, then draft a written account. Each book contains magic with vast implications.

  Lyra was first introduced to Dragonspeir as a young girl, when she met the high sorcerer, Cullen Drake, through a gift of one of those enchanted books. Using its magic, he escorted her into the parallel world of Dragonspeir. Years later, she lost that volume and forgot the world and Cullen. These legends begin where he finds her again—she is thirty-five, standing in his enchanted bookstore, and Dragonspeir needs her.

  When Lyra reopens that enchanted book, she confronts a series of quests where she is expected to save the good Alliance from destruction by the evil Black Dragon. While learning about her role, Lyra and Cullen fall in love. He is 220 years old and kept alive by Dragonspeir magic. Cullen will die if Dragonspeir is taken over by the evil faction…Lyra becomes the Scribe.

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2012, 2013 by Marsha A. Moore

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Cover Art © 2016 by Marsha A. Moore

  Edited by India Drummond

  Visit Marsha A. Moore at:

  MarshaAMoore.com

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  Contents

  INSIDE COVER

  SEEKING A SCRIBE, BOOK 1

  HERITAGE AVENGED, BOOK 2

  LOST VOLUMES, BOOK 3

  STAUROLITE, BOOK 4

  QUINTESSENCE, BOOK 5

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARSHA A. MOORE

  ~*~

  SEEKING A SCRIBE

  Enchanted Bookstore Legend One

  by

  Marsha A. Moore

  ~*~

  Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One

  An epic fantasy romance novel by Marsha A. Moore

  Lyra McCauley is a writer and loves fantasy novels, but until she opens a selection from bookstore owner Cullen Drake, she has no idea he’s a wizard character who lives a double life inside that volume…or the story’s magic will compel her from the edge of depression to adventure, danger, and love.

  His gift to Lyra, the Book of Dragonspeir, was actually her copy, misplaced years ago. Lost in her pain following divorce and death, she fails to recognize him as her childhood playmate from the fantasyland. Friendship builds anew. Attraction sparks. But Lyra doubts whether a wizard is capable of love. She’s torn—should she protect her fragile heart or risk new love?

  Opening the book’s cover, she confronts a quest: save Dragonspeir from destruction by the Black Dragon before he utilizes power of August’s red moon to expand his strength and overthrow the opposing Imperial Dragon. Lyra accepts the challenge, fearing Cullen will perish if evil wins. Along with magical animal guides, Cullen helps her through many perils, but ultimately Lyra must use her own power…and time is running out.

  Chapter One: Licorice Memories

  The smell of anise greeted Lyra as she opened the door to Drake’s bookstore. It took her back to happy childhood memories. Licorice-shoe-string-rewards for following her parents’ requests to stay on the dock while they secured the family’s pleasure boat to its trailer. The aroma brought a fleeting remembrance of times long gone, a treasure now that her folks had recently passed. At ease with the familiar scent, she settled into browsing through rows of antique bookcases.

  The shop owner stuck his head around a set of shelves. “Do you like tea?”

  “Yes, I do.” Before she could finish speaking, he disappeared. “Is that the wonderful smell?” she called out.

  Kitchenware clinked in the back room. Receiving no answer, Lyra followed the noises, scanning collections as she walked. This bookshop appeared established, but surely she would have remembered it from her last visit to the Lake Huron village five years ago. Books were her passion, especially fantasy. She paused in front of that section and studied its titles.

  The owner appeared, holding a pewter tray with a teapot, two cups, sugar jar, spoons, and napkins, which he laid on the corner of an old library table. She watched him carefully pour the tea and hand her a cup. He was about her age, mid thirties or a bit older, and handsome. His medium brown hair, peppered with gray at the temples, grazed his shoulders in wavy layers, and his beard was trimmed into a neat goatee. He wore long shorts, a knit golf shirt, and sandals—typical casual attire for this island resort community.

  She set down her bag from the drugstore and accepted his offer with a smile. “Thanks. My name’s Lyra.” She blew across the hot surface of the tea to cool it and then inhaled the anise-scented steam. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the memory. “Ah!”

  “Afternoons of boating and licorice with your parents? Right?” he asked.

  Her mouth dropped open. How did he know that?

  He slurped from his cup. “Go ahead, take a sip. My folks gave me the same reward for taking my kid sister along on bicycle rides.”

  Forgetting all about the tea, she asked, “How do you know my childhood memory?”

  “Taste it.” His lips curled into a sly grin as he took another gulp.

  She cautiously took a tiny sip, just enough to wet her lips and the tip of her tongue. The flavor flooded her mouth, and her mind swam with wonderful memories. The taste transformed into that of gigantic popcorn balls the sheriff’s wife down the street made for Halloween trick-or-treaters, accompanied by images of Lyra’s costume—a red, fringed gypsy skirt borrowed from Mom. Next came a pumpkin flavor and vision of holding a cold piece of “punky-pie” in her five-year-old hand. Another swallow returned her experience back to anise. “What is this? How did you know?”

  “Let me introduce myself.” His grin spread into a smile as his eyes met hers. He took a step closer. “I’m Cullen, Cullen Drake, and I know many things. What I don’t know is what sort of books you like to read.”

  His keen interest caused heat to rise in her cheeks. “Well, actually I have several favorites, all fantasy and magical realism. You have a number of authors I like in this section.” She turned to refer to the shelves behind her, but found non-fiction hunting guides instead. “This case held classic fantasy a mom
ent ago!”

  Cullen put down his cup. “It moved. It’s over here, and I have just what you want.” He slid an old-fashioned library ladder along its track, set the locking device, and climbed straight up to the top shelf.

  Lyra followed, walking between four comfortable leather club chairs grouped on a Persian rug. A portrait of a young girl and a man wearing a cloak caught her attention. Something seemed familiar in the child’s smile.

  The noise of books sliding on shelves distracted her. She moved to the base of his ladder and glanced up. The ceiling of embossed tin panels decorated with Victorian teardrop chandeliers and paper Chinese dragons made a unique combination, to be sure.

  But Lyra was more curious about the strange happenings in the store and its owner. He was certainly odd, although not the bookish, geeky sort who usually ran bookshops she frequented. He had an athletic frame and strong legs.

  “Can’t find it!” he exclaimed and quickly descended. His brow furrowed, he dusted off his hands on his shorts. “I’ve got to find that volume for you. If you don’t mind me saying, there’s a sadness about you. The book will make you happier than you’ve been since those days of licorice shoe strings.”

  “After magical tea and shifting bookcases, I almost believe you.” She laughed to cover her concerns. Even four months after it was final, she worried that the loneliness she felt after her divorce blazed like a beacon on her forehead. But, Cullen knew so much—it startled her…actually, intrigued her. Her ex didn’t ever see inside her, didn’t want to. This man read her as though he knew her. Did he? He seemed so familiar.

  “Once I find that book, I promise, you’ll be pleased.” He stroked his goatee. “Hmm. Where did I last see it?” The twinkle in his gray-blue eyes captivated Lyra. “Will you be here for the week? I can look for it and call you later.”

  “I’m staying the rest of the summer with my elderly Aunt Jean. She owns a lovely cottage at the end of Walnut overlooking Lake Huron. I thought I’d keep her company and give her time away from her nurse during my teaching break. While I’m here, I plan to write my novel.”

  “Great! You’re a writer? What do you teach?”

  “Yes, and I teach American Literature at Southern University in Florida. Seems like you already would’ve known that since you jumped into my childhood memories,” she stammered, attempting some humor. Taking a long draught of the tea, her mind filled with memories of her pet dachshund wiggling next to her, displacing a row of dolls. Another part of her past he knew—impossible! Her forehead beaded with sweat.

  “No, only thoughts associated with a lot of emotion, like the happiness of snuggling with your dog.”

  “How?” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.” Her mind swam, trying to grasp what happened. She desperately needed some fresh air. With trembling hands, she set the cup down.

  “I realize it must seem odd, but the book I’m looking for will help explain.” He leaned closer with a smile that somehow reassured her. “This is Saturday. If you can come by next Wednesday morning, I think I should have it for you by then…if you’d like.” He paused and looked into her eyes, waiting for a reply.

  “Yes…I’m curious.” In spite of the confusion, she found herself agreeing. “Wednesday will work.”

  “Fine. Let me take down your number in case I can’t find it.” He walked to the counter and located a notepad and pen. She dictated her number and full name, which he repeated, “Lyra McCauley, a lovely Celtic name for a pretty lady.”

  “I think I need to go now. Thanks for the tea.” With shaking fingers, she collected her shopping bag and headed toward the door.

  He escorted her out and offered his hand to shake, the corners of his goatee lifting into an inviting grin. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

  Lyra smiled and looked into his eyes, trying to discern his unusual clairvoyant gift. “You too.” The initial touch of his palm against hers sent electrical shivers along her arm. She jerked, yet didn’t let go, fascinated by the strong emotions flashing through her mind—attraction, excitement, and acceptance. After an awkwardly long pause, she dropped his hand, half-stumbled over the threshold into the sunshine, and took a long, deep breath.

  She ambled to an outdoor café a couple blocks farther down Tenth Street while her mind buzzed with questions. How did he know those things about her? She dropped onto a seat at an empty table, shaded by an umbrella. He was fascinating and frightening at the same time…and familiar. Her divorce and loss of her parents left her lonely. He intrigued her.

  “May I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?” The waitress interrupted with a bright young voice, a college student working a summer job.

  Startled back to reality, Lyra murmured, “Just water, please.” Alone in a crowd of lunch goers, her thoughts returned to the bookstore and many unanswered questions.

  The waitress placed a glass of water in front of her.

  Lyra almost hated to drink and remove the sweet aftertaste of anise from her tongue.

  Chapter Two: The Patina of Life

  Her mind occupied, Lyra missed the trolley car at the stop. Instead of waiting for the next, she decided to walk the mile to Aunt Jean’s. Maybe fresh air and exercise would help her sort through the strange happenings at the bookstore.

  The cool breeze off the lake rippled through pine boughs. Maple leaves turned and exposed their silvery undersides. Dappled light danced on the sidewalks and soothed her nerves. On either side of the narrow street stood the same cottages she remembered from years of visits. Passed from one generation to the next, they took on new lives with brighter paint, new porches, and vivid beds of perennials dotted with charming garden art.

  Turning the corner onto Walnut Street, she waved to a neighbor, a good friend of the family. Maybe a bit of familiar conversation would help clear her thoughts.

  “Well, hello, Lyra! Nice to see you again!” the lady called from across her picket-fenced yard.

  “Hello to you, Mrs. Kendall!” Lyra opened the white-washed gate, and a barking collie ran up to greet her. She bent to rub the dog’s ears. “And hello to you too, Buddy.”

  “It’s been at least five years since you were last here. How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

  She gently hugged the elderly woman. “I just got in yesterday. Still don’t have my legs about me after that long drive. I’ve missed you too. So much has happened since last time.”

  “Your hair’s lovely, long like this, all layered and wavy.” She ran her hand along the length of hair down Lyra’s back, then motioned to the covered porch. “Come sit a spell and visit with me, if you have time.”

  Lyra checked her watch. “I’ve got to relieve Aunt Jean’s nurse in half an hour. I can stay until then. I’m here for July and part of August to help since there are no other family left.” Taking a seat on the far end of the couch, she saved the closer end for the frail woman.

  Buddy obediently lay at his mistress’ feet, head resting on his paws.

  Mrs. Kendall looked so much older now, more deeply wrinkled, stooped in posture, and although her white hair still shone in a braided bun, her eyes no longer held their usual glint. What aged her? It’d only been five years.

  “I’ve heard she’s not accepting her treatments well. It’s too bad that her cancer returned after ten years. It’s sad that we must suffer, just when we have time to enjoy life. My dear Harvey passed a year ago last October…seems like just last month.” Her voice crackled. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel right without him.”

  Lyra reached over and took hold of her hand. “Life’s hard all the way along. I’m sorry about Mr. Kendall. It’s difficult. I know.”

  “Jean hasn’t been about much since her surgery in April. I help out with some casseroles for her now and then. Most all my friends around here have died, and now their children only come to use the properties on vacations. Awfully lonely.”

  “Thanks for helping, Mrs. Kendall.” She gave the old lady’s hand
a squeeze and then released it. “I’m grateful I have time to spend here now, although for the wrong reason—Jeff and I divorced this spring.” Lyra briefly pulled at a hangnail before disciplining her nervous habit, folding her arms across her stomach.

  “Aw, I sure don’t like to hear that, Lyra. I thought you two were a fine pair.”

  “I thought so too.” It was hard to admit. Guilt and failure still screamed in her mind.

  “You sure do look slim, but worry will do that to a body. I’ve known you since you were a little girl with golden ringlets, chasing butterflies in my garden. You’re the daughter I never had, and I always wanted a good life for you. Are there any children? You didn’t have any last time you were here.”

  “No, no children.” Lyra sighed, feeling even more alone saying that aloud. How could she explain what happened when she didn’t understand herself? Tears welled into her eyes.

  The older lady placed a thin hand on Lyra’s knee. “Well, you can sure visit with me anytime you need company.” Her eyes sparkled with a hint of her former self, possibly now that someone needed her.

  Lyra leaned forward, rubbed Buddy’s coat, and rose. “I should to be going. Thanks for your kind offer. I’ll take you up on it when the nurse is there. Take care, Mrs. Kendall.”

  “You too, dear. Say hello to Jean for me.”

  “I will.” She stepped off the porch and let herself out the gate. Walking the half block to her aunt’s house at the end of the street, she reflected upon the suffering around her—illness, grief, loneliness. Mrs. Kendall was right; there needed to be more happiness and fewer hard times.