Welcome back to week 3 of this month's Author Spotlight!! This week, we are sharing an excerpt of The Bibliophile by Christy Sloat!! So without further adieu, let's get started....
Digging inside the box I found the jewelry box that contained her brooch. She wore the thing everywhere she went. Always on her scarves or her lapel. She always had it on her. I remember as a young child touching its red rubies and thinking that it was the most beautiful thing ever.
I opened the box and there it sat in its red ruby glory, just like when she was alive. So the Bailey family owned a business, huh? This was news to me. My father never mentioned the family and when we had the funeral, he insisted it just be a small gathering; just us. We didn’t hold a memorial for family, and to me that always seemed so messed up. How had they felt about that?
I picked up the scroll that read “one” and untied it. Inside it held a ton of papers with names and addresses as well as numbers to reach guides, whatever that meant. Circled was Angela’s number. I remember meeting her once or twice when I was older. From what I understood, Dad hated Angela and didn’t want her around Mom. So, she saw her in secret. I never cared; I wanted Mom happy and Angela made her happy. In red letters it said: When in doubt call Angela.
I set the scroll down just as confused as I was when I first unrolled it and I picked up a book that grabbed my attention instantly. The aged cover had me believe it was a first edition, as well as the wear and tear. Someone loved this book so much that they destroyed it. The spine felt cracked as I ran my thumb over it. The store had a few first editions and they sold for a pretty penny, so I kept them locked up. One never took too many precautions in life.
The book I held had no title, which was very intriguing. I rated books like I rated women. The average male liked a girl who had a lot going on on the outside; nice hair, great lips, tan skin, big chest, and so on. But me, I chose women who were a blank canvas. I couldn’t wait to see what they were like on the inside, almost like opening a package. At times, it was the way a girl smiled, or how she tucked her hair back, or laughed nervously. It was easy to find a beautiful girl in New York, and sure, I’ve brought a few home to play with. But the minute, and I mean the absolute minute most of these beautiful women opened their mouths, I was not attracted for long.
The same went for books. A cover with too much flare turned me off. This book was going to be perfect. My hands got sweaty at the thought of opening it.
Chewing my lip, I cracked the book open, and before I knew it, my mind was blown.
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