Page 25 of Highland Hearts Holiday Bookshop

I stopped, mid-reach, as my eyes landed on the Celtic heart book. I’d put it on the table the night before, promising out loud to the shop that I’d look more deeply into it the next morning, and it had stayed put through the night. Except for one small difference. Now, a magnifying glass attached to a long gold chain was on top of the book.

Finishing the pastry, I wiped my hands on the paper towel I’d brought with me, and then reached for the magnifying glass. It was small, maybe three or so inches in length from the handle to the top of the glass, and hung from a thick gold chain. The handle was ornate, gold vines twisting around a pink quartz heart, and lightly etched flowers lined the circle of gold around the glass.

“Isn’t this pretty?” I was a sucker for fun and unique pieces, and this looked to be vintage. Immediately, I pulled it over my head and beamed as I held it up to my eye.

Blurriness greeted me through the lens.

“Oh, right. Duh.” I laughed at myself. I was trying to hold it like a pair of glasses when it was meant to be held against the papers. A thought occurred to me. “So if this was left with the book, am I meant to use this with magick? With the love spells?”

The speaker behind me flicked on and began to play Mariah Carey’s hit single,All I Want for Christmas is You.

I winced.

“Admittedly this song is a banger, but I’m also about to hear it four thousand times in the next month, so can we not?” The song switched to instrumental Christmas music, and I nodded in relief. “Thank you. Whomever you are.”

I still wasn’t certain if the shop was sentient, if there was a ghost, or if the actual magick that lived here was what was making the calls. I’d read enough fantasy books that anything and everything could be charmed or hold magick, so I was holding out on landing on any theories until I collected more evidence. Speaking of which…

Pulling out a fresh notebook, I opened it and started a new list of magickal observations. It wouldn’t hurt to take notes to reference. Once I noted the few oddities I’d seen so far, I put my pen down and reached for the Celtic heart book.

“Okay. I’m going to use this magnifying glass”—I held up the glass around my neck—“with this book.”

The music kept playing so I took that as a positive sign and opened the book to a random page.

“‘Susan and Sean.’” I read the names out loud at the top. “‘Susan is a single mum who doesn’t believe in love after divorce but hopes to find a father to be a good role model for her son. Her favorite book isThe Hunger Games.’” I tapped the magnifying glass as I thought about the book that was a global phenomenon.

“‘Sean has never been married but comes from a big family, and he’s looking to settle down. He loves working with his hands and specializes in building customcabinetry. His favorite book isFour Blind Miceby James Patterson.’”

And their books brought about a match? How? One was about a woman sacrificing herself in a game of death to protect her sister and another was about a hero cop who solved murders.

Remembering the magnifying glass, I held it over the page, though I could read the words clearly enough without it.

Protect.

The word hovered briefly in the air beneath the magnifying glass, above the page, glimmering softly in the dark shop.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, putting the glass down and catching my breath.

If this was some magickal ink trick, well, it was a damn good one. Taking a healthy gulp of my coffee, I leaned forward and studied the words written on the page. Nowhere was the word “protect” written that could be seen. Even if it was invisible ink or something like that, there was no reason it would hover off the page in such a manner. Holding up the magnifying glass again, I sucked in my breath when the word “protect” lifted off the page and danced in the air beneath the lens.

That was the common link.

Both of these people liked to protect others. To nurture. Which would make them good partners, of course, because neither would feel like what they were giving wasn’t being reciprocated.

“Ohhhhh, okay, okay, okay. So, I’m looking for waysthat their ideologies complement each other. I think I get it. This is so cool.” Excitement zipped through me as I flipped the page and read another pairing.

“Eat, Pray, LoveandClimbing Mount Everest?” Before I used the glass I wanted to see if I could guess the commonality. “Hmmm. Travel?”

Holding the glass up, the wordadventurepopped off the page.

“Not bad, not bad. Okay, so it’s like finding a common thread. Even if the books are different. I think I get it now.” Pleased at this new discovery, because it made matchmaking seem a touch less daunting, I hummed my way through reading several other matches. “This is fascinating.”

Updating my list of magickal observations, because already my mind was spinning with potential book ideas for my half-finished novel, I paused, tapping the pen against the paper.

“Wait, how long does this all take?”

Would I just have to wait for someone to walk in the door and ask for the perfect book? Or was there a database of previous people who had ordered the “special” and were waiting to be matched? I glared at the computer, certain that the info I needed was in there, and sighed. In theory, this could work. But in practice, matchmaking, particularly with the use of magick, sounded like a full-time job.

A notebook in the pile of ledgers on the table shook.

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