Sunshine Bookstore Novels & Stories

Turning, I don't see what attracted my attention, but something in my head is shouting, jumping in the air and waving arms at me. What was it...? Ahhh.... Across the street is a small second-hand bookshop; the kind with tiny windows and a narrow entrance which only opens on the second Sunday of the month. The door stands open, seeming to lead no-where except dark shelf-stacks that a Victorian explorer would lose himself in. And through the entrance, just visible, a head of copper-red hair. I find myself smiling. Tossing the dregs of the soup into a bin, I follow my feet across the road and into the store.

He looked around in an attempt to change the subject, and to his relief, that beautiful smile was back on Bianca's face. "Yeah, this is it, our little shop. C'mon I'll show you around." It was a cute little place—exactly what he pictured with the exception of the corner of the shop she called the library. They had shelves full of books, a table with a couple of carafes of coffee and cups, and a cheery sign that read "Help yourself!" Then there were comfortable chairs and a sofa strategically placed to face the picturesque window. "We're all insatiable readers." Bianca explained. "My grandma thought it'd be nice to have a reading area for the customers to sit and read by the window. We actual

The little triangle thing, he suddenly wondered if it had a name, was pointing to yes. The window on the other side of the door asked “Do I really need another candle?” The magic 8 ball underneath it had the answer of “Yes – Definitely” On the door in elegant script was Botanica Wiccan Bookstore, established 2006 Ciara Goode, Proprietess In both windows were elaborate and beautiful displays of books, candles, crystals, tarot cards and novelties. Working up his courage, Knuckles got off his bike and walked inside. He had expected the whole place to be dark and broody.

“Thanks. Gonna need brain-bleach to get rid of that image.” Cassie chuckles and takes a half-bow. “My pleasure.” I sigh, doing my best to repress images of Martha Wilkins (all three-hundred pounds of her) enjoying the latest Mills & Boon novel, say Midnight in the Desert, Midnight in the Summer, or, predictably, Midnight in the Harem. “All right, then. You’re free. Nothing coming until Monday morning. Got a shipment of comic books due. The York Book Emporium from Pennsylvania is sending us some of their overstock.”

SAM I let my eyes wander around when Phoenix ushers me outside the car. This place is an old books store which is renovated in to a big and modern one. Many well-known authors used this venue for book signing events. A woman around my age approaches us wearing a bright smile on her face. “Mr. Williams, Ms. Anderson, good evening! Please, follow me.” I am surprised to hear my name, and I grin at her in return. I feel Phoenix’s hand gripping my waist. “Let’s get inside, beautiful.”

She got up and left. Frances yawned. "Good night mom." She turned off the lamp and shut her eyes. Frances worked as a salesclerk at the Soft View Bookstore, along Huxely Street, Boston. The bookstore was well known, not because it was a large establishment, but due to the style of book display ordered by Mr. Yamato -- nearly half of the books were displayed outside in a heavy show glass. This could be the most reason why each morning of a working day wore Frances out. She just hated everything about the book store.

Like a flame in the hearth, I was sure that he could switch from warm and comfortably cosy to alight and dancing in a matter of seconds, and part of me wanted to be there to see it when it inevitably happened. “Well, there’s not that much to tell,” I said, cocking my head from side to side, considering. “Down here, that’s where Prue’s bookstore is. It’s not actually owned by anyone called Prue. Actually, an older man, Winston, runs it. I think it might be named after his wife, or his daughter.” I shrugged again. “I can’t remember.” Cyrus grinned. “You’re a really great tour guide, you know that? I mean it. Have you ever considered starting up your own business?”

“Tuesday nights. The Spined Fox bookstore. We read everything from literary fiction to trashy romance. No judgment.” I took the flyer. “I’ll think about it.” “Don’t think. Just come.” I came. The Spined Fox The bookstore was everything I’d dreamed of. Old wooden shelves, creaky floors, the smell of paper and dust and something sweet from the café in the back. The owner, a retired English professor named Martha, greeted me like an old friend. “New face,” she said. “Welcome. We start in ten minutes. Grab a seat.” I sat in a worn armchair, clutching my copy of that month’s book—a debut novel about grief and gardening—and tried not to look as nervous as I felt.

Sofia The morning sun on the island was unforgiving. I sat at the small bistro table on the deck, peeling a mango with my fingers, completely naked. The stone beneath my bare feet was already warm, and the breeze lifting my hair was heavy with the scent of salt. Across from me, Luca leaned back in his chair, drinking espresso. He was naked too, his legs spread casually, looking like a pagan king surveying his domain.

Instead, he reached for the plate of toast Ashwin had set on the counter and took a bite. “I’ve got work in a bit,” Ashwin said after a moment, settling into the chair across from him. “It’s a busy day at the shop.” “Yeah? Anything special happening?” Ashwin shook his head. “Not really, but we got a new shipment of books, so I’ll be stocking those for most of the day.” The small bookstore and café Ashwin worked at was one of the town’s more popular spots, a cozy little place filled with old books, warm lighting, and the scent of fresh coffee. He’d been working there for years, and while it wasn’t particularly exciting, he loved it.