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Miss Penneck and the Pixie's Poem
Miss Penneck was sublimely content when she at last realized her dream of opening a bookstore—until a handsome printer shows up, claiming the shop space is his.
Suddenly, everything is complicated. There’s a Pixie in her shop, her father is obsessed with the notion of her deceased mother returning to visit, and the handsome printer’s enemies have made her a target.
Her life is in a tangle, but a Pixie’s poem will show them all that love and connection are always the answer—and the best that life can give.
Excerpt:
Penneck’s Books. Shining white letters stood out against a beautiful green background, just the exact, bright color of a summer forest. The indented doorway was lined with blooming pots of flowers and gorgeous, carved panels framed the door itself.
No. No.
It was supposed to be empty, waiting for him, and for his poor, damaged press. This was his shop. His future.Numb, he approached on wooden legs, staring at the gleam and polish of the windows. Opening the door, he entered.
He stopped inside, brought up short by the certainty—and suddenly furious about it—that he would have been delighted at the place, had it been located anywhere else upon the green earth.
Light shone in, illuminating shelves filled and tables piled with books of every description, from luxurious, leather bound beauties, to volumes left in their boards, and on down to inexpensive chapbooks.
His gaze roamed, taking in the bright and airy feel of the place, the older gentleman sitting and reading in a chair with a robe across his lap—and swung back suddenly to a bright spot near the back, below a window of brightly colored glass.
He’d seen . . . What had he seen?
The outline of a small creature, no bigger than a bird, with odd, jagged locks of green hair. Wings trailed delicately down her back as she leaned over a book open on the shelf before her. She’d glanced at him . . .
But there was nothing there. The shelf was empty save for the reflection of the colored glass. He shook his head, sure that the old woman’s nonsense had stirred up his imagination. He glanced to his right—and then he stopped thinking altogether.
A young lady stood there. She might also have been dredged from the stuff of his imagination. Slender and fine, she was positioned near to the window, framed in a ray of light that had surely sought her out solely so it could chase the darkness from her heavy, upswept hair.
A whisper of a breeze rustled his own hair and sent a shiver down his spine, right down into the soles of his boots. He could not tear his eyes from the girl.
She hadn’t yet noticed him. It looked as if she’d paused in the midst of straightening a display to take note of an older lady reading out loud to a young, rough-looking lad.
Long fingers—he was not sure how they could strike him as both delicate and capable—curved around a stack of books. Her mouth curved as well, into a soft, satisfied smile that lit her pretty face as if someone held a candle behind her eyes.
He didn’t make a sound or move a muscle, but suddenly she gave a shiver very like the one he’d just suffered. Turning, she spotted him and her expression shifted into one of smiling, practiced welcome.
No. No.
It was supposed to be empty, waiting for him, and for his poor, damaged press. This was his shop. His future.Numb, he approached on wooden legs, staring at the gleam and polish of the windows. Opening the door, he entered.
He stopped inside, brought up short by the certainty—and suddenly furious about it—that he would have been delighted at the place, had it been located anywhere else upon the green earth.
Light shone in, illuminating shelves filled and tables piled with books of every description, from luxurious, leather bound beauties, to volumes left in their boards, and on down to inexpensive chapbooks.
His gaze roamed, taking in the bright and airy feel of the place, the older gentleman sitting and reading in a chair with a robe across his lap—and swung back suddenly to a bright spot near the back, below a window of brightly colored glass.
He’d seen . . . What had he seen?
The outline of a small creature, no bigger than a bird, with odd, jagged locks of green hair. Wings trailed delicately down her back as she leaned over a book open on the shelf before her. She’d glanced at him . . .
But there was nothing there. The shelf was empty save for the reflection of the colored glass. He shook his head, sure that the old woman’s nonsense had stirred up his imagination. He glanced to his right—and then he stopped thinking altogether.
A young lady stood there. She might also have been dredged from the stuff of his imagination. Slender and fine, she was positioned near to the window, framed in a ray of light that had surely sought her out solely so it could chase the darkness from her heavy, upswept hair.
A whisper of a breeze rustled his own hair and sent a shiver down his spine, right down into the soles of his boots. He could not tear his eyes from the girl.
She hadn’t yet noticed him. It looked as if she’d paused in the midst of straightening a display to take note of an older lady reading out loud to a young, rough-looking lad.
Long fingers—he was not sure how they could strike him as both delicate and capable—curved around a stack of books. Her mouth curved as well, into a soft, satisfied smile that lit her pretty face as if someone held a candle behind her eyes.
He didn’t make a sound or move a muscle, but suddenly she gave a shiver very like the one he’d just suffered. Turning, she spotted him and her expression shifted into one of smiling, practiced welcome.
Reviews
A completely wonderful story with cameos from previous characters, Pixies, sweet kissing love scenes, a nasty villain and a wonderful HEA.
---Flippin' Pages
---Flippin' Pages
How fun is this? This is a vision of our Puff, created by graphic artist Rebekah Eggebeen. Don't you love it?
You can see more of her dynamic art at https://mysterewolf.wixsite.com/website
Don't miss all the Castle Keyvnor Pixie Tales!
