Page 164 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

I hesitated, then “caught” his kiss in my hand. I held it, but I didn’t know what to do with it.

I watched until I could see him no more. Then I faced forward again and headed home.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Six Months Later

“Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.”

—Alice Sebold,The Lovely Bones

I straightened the stacks on the table of “Staff Favorites,” my hand running over the embossed cover ofDeadly Treasure, thinking about all the trouble this book had caused.

Thebookdidn’t cause any trouble, I thought. It was the book’s owner.

None of my customers knew what had transpired on St. Claire last summer. I’d told Jane and Amanda most of it. Everything, in fact, except about my broken heart. Because even though Ethan Valentine’s lie had hurt, I knew he didn’t lie to hurtme. He lied because he didn’t like who he had become and wanted to be someone else.

ThatI understood.

I’d fallen in love with a fictional person.

But Ihadfallen in love, and I think Jason Mallory fell for me. Too bad he wasn’t any more real than the heroes in the books I surrounded myself with.

Beach Reads and Mysterieshad opened for business the first weekend in November. Now, the weekend after Thanksgiving, we were getting more traffic with holiday shoppers and peoplefrom the neighborhood enticed by either our creative window display—thanks to Grams—or the scent of spiced cider that filled the large space.

It was everything I had ever dreamed of owning.

Nooks to read or chat; a small café with local-made pastries, salads, sandwiches, and of course a coffee bar. There were books everywhere, but also gifts for your favorite book lover. Shirts, book bags, handmade bookmarks, fabric book covers. The children’s section was perfect for little people to explore, and tables were strategically placed with hidden power strips so older kids could study.

And an idea I stole from St. Claire: thousands of tiny white lights winding through the shop. Around the pillars of the open ceiling, draping down the bookshelves, decorating the plants, and framing the windows. They made me happy, and several times a day, I heard customers exclaim when they noticed the small details that made my store unique and inviting.

I might have fallen in love with a fictional person, but he gave me the world by opening my mind, and my heart, to my dreams.

Jason had told me—no,Ethanhad told me—that my dream store should be a destination. It should fill readers with the desire to browse and buy, to provide peace like their favorite comfort read, or open whole new worlds with books that entertained, that made them laugh, cry, feel.

It did just that.

I hoped it did. I’d put all my money into this place and taken out a loan for the building.

I wasn’t acompleteidiot. I didn’t open in Manhattan—that would have cost five times more. I didn’t even open in New Jersey or back where I grew up in Connecticut.

Instead, I’d found a corner building four blocks from the beach in Miami, Florida.

Downstairs was my bookstore; upstairs I leased to an accounting firm because having another source of income never hurt. It wouldn’t cover the mortgage on the building, but it was enough so I didn’t panic every time I got the bill.

And, I bought a house. A tiny two-bedroom house near the beach where Grams and I lived and shared a single bathroom. It had a porch and a small yard, and I built a catio for Nick and Nora. They seemed to like it.

I knew that opening a small business was one of the riskiest gambles anyone could take. I knew most closed within three years. Many owners were left with nothing to show for it. I had invested everything I had into this business—not just money, but my time, my dreams, my tears, my fears, and my whole heart. For the first time in my life, I was taking not only a risk—but a risk that could wipe me out. A risk that, if I failed, would hurl me to ground zero. Worse. It was a risk that I wouldn’t be able to bounce back from if I didn’t succeed.

But every time I walked into my bookstore, I smiled. I might fail, but if I didn’t even try, I didn’t deserve my name on the door.

And it was.

Beach Reads and Mysteries

Mia Crawford, Owner & Manager

My heart was full.

---