Last Word to the Wise by Ann Claire EPUB & PDF

Last Word to the Wise by Ann Claire EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Author: Ann Claire
• Language: English
• Genre: Amateur Sleuth Mysteries 
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

Rather Be Reading
Never had I so dreaded a trip to the library.
Me, Ellie Christie, devoted reader, bookseller, bibliophile, and
library patron since infancy. In fact, had I ever approached a library with
anything less than delight? I recalled only joy and anticipation.
Now, however…

From my frosty nose to my mitten-clad palms, I yearned to turn in my
boots and flee. I knew exactly where I’d go. Home to my loft above my
family’s bookshop, the Book Chalet. Once there, I’d dive into flannel PJs,
curl up with Agatha C. (as in Cat) Christie, and read.
It was the perfect evening for a fluffy friend and a good book. Late
January snow, fine as icing sugar, pirouetted to my eyelashes. I sighed.
Wistful sentiment froze into a mocking cloud.

A night in with a book and your cat? No, no, no…Not for you. Not until
you’ve endured this date!
I sighed, launching another taunt.
Hee, hee, ha, ha! Not just a date. A blind double date! In the library!
Every bit of that seemed wrong. Date. Double date. Blind date. Most of
all, the involvement of the library. The library was a readers’ sanctuary, like
the Book Chalet. It shouldn’t be sullied by potentially (no, almost
definitely) stressful blind meetups.

I consoled myself. The library had always helped me out. It would
tonight too, right? If the date went south, I could…what? Excuse myself
and hide among the books?
No. I’d be found. The library was open and orderly. At the Book Chalet,
I could disappear for days. Shelves reached for the ceiling. Aisles twisted
like a maze. Customers could literally find themselves lost among the
books.

My imagination turned fanciful, or perhaps just desperate.
A magical library cart, that’s what I needed. I pictured a metal cart,
rattling to my rescue. I’d jump on. Together, we’d bump down the library
steps and clatter through downtown, speeding for the gondola station,
where a glass carriage would await to carry me up to the upper hamlet and
home. I glanced over my shoulder. Midway up the mountain, lights
twinkled through the snow, beckoning like summer fireflies.

I smiled under my scarf. Riding the gondola was always special. But I
had a magic library cart! We’d fly!
A bookish woman could always dream.
A frigid gust carried away my fantasy. I turned back to reality and my
companion in blind double-date dread, striding a few yards ahead.
“We’ll be early!” I called to my older sister.
Meg was approaching this evening like an impending root canal or
cream pie aimed at her nose: Hurry up and get it over with.

I tried again. “We’ll look overeager!”
Meg stopped in the middle of Galena Street, thankfully free of traffic.
“Can I admit something?” Meg asked when I caught up.
“Of course,” I said and admired the long views from the middle of the
road.

“I’d sooooo rather be home reading.”
“You and me both! Let’s go hide in the Book Chalet! You can sleep over
in the loft and tell me ghost stories like when we were kids.”
“Stop,” my sister groaned. “Too tempting…”
I piled on cozy lures. “Flannel PJs, hot cocoa, a fire in the hearth,
Agatha on your lap…”

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