Hastings Bookstore Novels & Stories

“Actually... we can order them on A****n, but the person who wrote them has a store in Edmonton and sells the books there.” “Oh? I have some people in Edmonton right now, I can get them to stop in and pick them up, if you’d like.” “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience them.” “You said it was a store front? Like a bakery store front?”

“I’m opening a bookstore.” Silence dropped over the room like a heavy blanket then Ruth burst out laughing so hard she nearly choked. “A bookstore,” she repeated. “In this town?” “Yes,” he said proudly. “Right on Main Street. Small, cozy, lots of used books, local writers, coffee in the corner and comfy chairs the whole thing.” I stared at him, stunned. “You already did this?” I asked. He shrugged. “I put a deposit down before I came back I didn’t want you talking me out of it.”

Holy. Lena closed the door, her hand skimming the edge as if shutting a holy vessel. She did not rush to turn off the lights. Rather, she walked between the shelves, letting her fingertips trace worn spines and whitened covers, breathing in the scent of paper and years. The bookstore was her sanctuary. Her cathedral.

Ashwin adjusted the display of freshly baked pastries at Mount Haven Bookstore and Café, his fingers brushing against the warm surface of a croissant as he arranged them neatly on the counter. The smell of coffee, sugar, and aged books blended into a comforting atmosphere that made it one of his favorite places in the world.

It felt good to imagine being one of them again. I pulled up a list of nearby shops that were hiring. Nothing fancy. A bookstore. A small bakery. A florist. I decided to start with the bookstore. It was tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop, the kind of place where time moved slowly. The sign read HARROW & SONS BOOKS, letters fading at the edges. I pushed open the door, and a bell chimed softly above me. Inside, it smelled of dust and old paper. A man behind the counter looked up, his glasses sliding down his nose.

She mustered a half-amused, half-haughty tone and smoothed down her skirt, red dusting her cheeks. After another five minutes or so, we finally stopped in front of a tiny shop with a striped awning and the words Beacon Hill Books stamped in gold on a big placard above the entrance. Piles of books filled the display, obstructing my view of the shop’s interior, and two royal blue carts groaned beneath the weight of discounted tomes on the sidewalk. The street here was only wide enough for pedestrians and bicycles. A car didn’t have a chance of squeezing through it. The same went for the surrounding streets. The neighborhood was quaint and half-sketchy.

Victoria teased, blowing on her nails as she peeked over at Celeste's. Celeste gave a faint smile. "And you’re so… loud." "Loud is called stylish, thank you very much." Afterward, they wandered toward the bookstore on 5th, where the storefront was lined with ivy and sun-faded posters of upcoming signings. Celeste slowed near the entrance, eyes already scanning the display windows with that soft, distant look Victoria had come to recognize. Victoria groaned dramatically. “Do we have to go in?” Celeste arched a brow, amused. “Yes.”

Her days of serenity appear to be coming to an end. By the way, if you're wondering why Hannah is so cold to Clyde, it's because of that. FLASHBACK. Hannah took a stroll through the mall before deciding to visit the National Bookstore. She looks through the shelves to see if Nicholas Sparks' book has been restocked. This bookstore is always stocked with the most recent releases. Some popular books are always in stock here, but not at other bookstores.

I found him so cool whenever he shared his faith with the whole family. I marched right up to the bays and handed my card to a teenager cashier at the counter to make a purchase. She was wearing a cute and tiny hairpin on the left side of her ear, her above shoulder-length black hair made her even more gorgeous. "Hello, Miss Astrid! It is good to see you here again." She cheerfully greeted me while placing my books on a paper bag printed with the name of the shop. "Hello, Marianne! Are you done with your class already?" She is the daughter of Mrs. Williams, who owned this bookstore.

“No one is sending any one to hell. We are meeting in fifteen. Reach as soon as possible.” I hung up the call. I wished that I knew what this was about but as far as I was about demons they were never going to let you know something until you really were needed to know about it. Finally we reached the bookstore. It was named beautifully. Books and Blues. Well for people who did not know the irony would not understand it but it was a good business and Hannabelle was an astute businesswoman. And I did not know but I was sure that something was up with the coffee of this house which would only mean that she had magicked the place in such a subtle manner that people flocked here for the coffee a