The Book Waitress Series Volume One

The Book Waitress Series

Volume 1

Includes
:

The Book Waitress

Devil Du Jour

Demon a la Mode

By Deena Remiel

The Book Waitress Series, Volume One

By Deena Remiel

Copyright ©2013 by Deena Remiel

Cover Art by Scott Carpenter

The Book Waitress Series, Volume One
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published by Firewalker Press

Dedication

To my family here and
the ones who have crossed through Heaven’s portal…

Acknowledgements

A village doesn’t begin to describe what
it takes to bring my novels to publication. Countless days of waking up super early to write, along with ridiculously late night writing marathons, have left me with permanent dark circles under my eyes. But my stories have to be told. Family plays a major role in the successful endeavor. There are many nights of fending for themselves for dinner, and I can testify that all members can wash and dry their own clothes.

My editor and proofreaders are critical to the process, as is my phenomenal cover artist. Nicole Hicks has a wonderful feel for my stories
and voice, while Elena Gray, Kali Maddox, and Lilly Bastian use their eagle eyes to get my stories as close to perfection as possible. Scott Carpenter works artistic magic, immortalizing my characters on the covers.

Once the stories are
done, then there are many other people that I must acknowledge- all the folks who promote them! From blog tour hosts, reviewers, and FB fan club administrators to fans and mega-fans known as Street Angels, it takes a tremendous amount of work to get my stories noticed, and I thank them most sincerely.

And now, I’d like to personally thank
you
for loving my stories and continuing to support my brand of paranormal and urban fantasy romance.

Chapter One

“Watch your step there, young lady.” A deep, raspy voice broke through Camille Dutton’s frantic mind. “Just up those stairs to the upper deck. It’ll be about eight minutes to the island once we shove off. Enjoy your trip.”

“Thank you.”
Eight minutes? It might as well be eight years!
Ignoring the nausea threatening to erupt and drown the ferry before it even left the dock, she smiled graciously. The weather-beaten gentleman, the deckhand, she supposed, nodded at her with a crinkled smile and ushered the next person onboard. With every step she climbed up the steep metal stairs, she repeated a mantra to soothe unsettled nerves.

It’s not forever. It’s not forever.
Finding an opening at the bow of the ferry, she took up temporary residence against the railing, and dropped the heavily laden backpack from her shoulder to the deck. The churning clouds mirrored her dark mood and hovered dangerously low over the expanse of water. Eight minutes of deep, dark wetness would now separate her from the life Camille had known for twenty-four years. She’d never been further than eighty miles from her home. She didn’t need to travel far; not when she had thousands of books at her disposal to take her wherever she wanted to go.

Her involuntary transfer to the Shelter Island Library, or forced exile as she preferred to call it, would last only as long as it took to find a permanent librarian. Her boss had promised, and she vowed to hold him to it. With her parents recently passed, she longed to stay in the house where they’d infused her life with cherished moments. This upheaval at work made their absence all the more painful to bear.

Shelter Island seemed the antithesis of its name. Camille had been lovingly sheltered by her parents and insulated within the comforting walls of her town’s library. She’d read all of the books repeatedly, from cover to cover. Going to this unknown town, living in a strange home, and working at an unfamiliar library left her feeling exposed to more than just the elements. It invited all manner of creature born to lay siege on her well-constructed fortress of solitude.

The ferry’s whistle blew as its engines kicked on and thrust the boat into the Sound. She gasped and closed her eyes, pressing fingers against the cold steel that kept her from jumping ship. A gusty breeze whipped her ponytail into a frenzy of curls that slapped at her neck and cheeks. Eyes smarted and watered as
a rush of air assaulted her face. She couldn’t bear to watch as her life receded into the horizon. Looking forward was just as painful, and she pondered what lay ahead.

Laughter broke through her misery as two young children raced about playing tag. The raucous offered her a few moments of reverie, thinking back fondly on her own childhood antics. She chuckled lightly.
Oh, to be so young and happy-go-lucky! I remember having that carefree exuberance…once upon a time.
If only she could find a tenth of the fearlessness she’d had as a child, she would take on this latest challenge with all the ferocity of a lioness. Instead, she’d allowed it to wither and die along with those she’d mournfully laid to rest.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as horrible a transition as she envisioned. Maybe her anxiety skewed her perception of reality. She read enough psychology books to know for certain, and gave herself an amateur diagnosis—borderline agoraphobic with a possible detachment disorder. Who was she kidding?
I’m just plain socially awkward and can’t stand crowds.

Getting moved to Shelter Island, then, should be a dream come true. The population for most of the year hovered at around three thousand but shot up during the summer. The library, with its historic pedigree, offered her the opportunity to read books that no other library had in its possession. But something didn’t feel right. Out of all the other librarians, those who were much more outgoing than she,
why
had they picked her?

Jolted from her musings by the arrogant blast of the horn, she trudged over to the stairwell and conducted her death march to the gate as the boat docked. People nudged passed her with disregard, waving at friends or family, she supposed, who waited onshore and shouted greetings of welcome. Not one person among them had come for her. She hadn’t expected anyone because she didn’t arrange for a pick up. Admittedly, she hadn’t exactly planned well for this move. Denial and no one to snap her out of it came to bite her in the butt. Hoisting the monstrosity of a backpack onto her shoulder, she mustered all the fortitude she had within her, brokered a smile, and walked off the ferry to find a cab and her new home.

***

Camille slipped her hand inside her jacket pocket and pulled out a crinkled note with an address scrawled on it. She looked at it, peered at the house through the cab window, and sighed.
Yup, this is now home.
It fit her mood perfectly. Overgrown shrubbery and weeds surrounded the front yard of unkempt grass. Rotted stairs led up to a small wooden porch with a pair of rocking chairs set on either side of the front door.

“We’re here, Miss. Need help with your bag?”

“Oh, no. Thank you, I’ll manage.” She fished inside her pocketbook for her wallet and keys to the house. “How much will that be?”

“Ten dollars and fifty cents.”

“Here’s fifteen. Keep the change.” She thrust the bills into his hand and put her wallet away.

“Thanks. You ever need to get somewhere in a hurry, call me. Here’s my card.” He handed her a bright yellow business card and smiled.

“Will do.” The cab door creaked as she opened it, and screeched even louder as it closed. As she stood on the sidewalk, the cabbie tore off up the road, leaving her to size up the remainder of the house’s exterior.

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, Cammy.
” No, but it sure tells a lot about what’s inside.

The roof and siding looked to be in good condition, and the sea foam green shingles complimented the greenery of the Dogwood trees on the property. All in all, for a rental, she rated it three stars. She’d tackle the overgrown bushes and weeds eventually. She decided standing outside only delayed her complete transition to her new life. Swinging the key ring on her finger, she marched up the path to the front door, praying the inside would be a bit more appealing.

“Here goes everything,” she mumbled, and turned the key in the lock. The house seemed to sigh with a whoosh of air as she opened the door.

She made a quick scan of the space before her and smiled genuinely for the first time that day. What a charming space! Scooting further into the room, she fell in love. The style of the fully furnished cottage
pleased her sense of whimsy. An oversized, white couch and chair flanked a small fireplace, its mantel loaded with knick-knacks of fairies, goblins, elves, and gnome statuettes. She inspected each one, their unique designs reminding her of all the fantasy stories she’d read over the years. The ones that either comforted her when she felt down or allowed her to escape from the pain of reality. Gas lamps on doilies adorned the maple side tables, and on the far end, waiting patiently to be discovered, were bookshelves overflowing with books.

Camille wasted no time dropping her backpack to the floor and raced over to see what gems lay nestled together waiting for her perusal. Books. They would be her saviors while she transitioned into this whole new world, alone. Non-fiction, classics, suspense, horror, and romance novels co-mingled on every shelf, no rhyme or reason. She’d fix that.

A telephone rang, and at first, it didn’t register in her brain that it came from inside the house. But the insistent shrill urged her to locate and answer it before she went mad. Racing around like a lunatic, she found it in the kitchen, and scurried to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Camille? This is Nancy Westin, the library supervisor. I just wanted to see if you’ve settled in yet. We need you down here as soon as possible.”

“Oh, well, I’m here. Just arrived, in fact. Haven’t had a chance to unpack my bag. But if you need me that badly, I’ll come straight away.”

“Please do. It’s a mess since Caroline left us.”

“I passed the library on my way here, so I know exactly where to go and how far it is. It shouldn’t take me longer than a few minutes to walk over after I’ve freshened up a bit.”

“No freshening up necessary. We’ll see you shortly.” Nancy’s terse command and pinched voice sent chills up and down Camille’s spine.

Just as she was going to respond, she heard a click and scoffed. “Looks like someone’s forgotten her phone etiquette. And I have to work with this lovely person? I
really
dislike people.” She sighed and trudged upstairs to her new bedroom.

Despite the urgency in Nancy’s voice, Camille decided she needed to clean up. The library would have to wait a little while longer for its new caretaker to arrive. She may not be comfortable around people, but she knew how to present a professional appearance for work and was determined to do so now.

Spilling the contents of her pack onto the bed, she sifted through the items until she found a suitable pair of pants, a blouse, and her bag of tricks that would transform her weary, bedraggled look into a refined librarian. A little blush to bring her back from the dead, some gloss to soften the lips, and a brush-through and twist into a chignon to tame her long, unruly curls. Giving herself a stamp of approval in the dresser mirror, she set off to tackle her demons, known and unknown.