Lock, Stock, and Feral by Addison Moore (free e novels .txt) 📕

need me to claw at her while you call for backup. We’re a team, you know.

A tiny laugh bubbles in my chest. “A rather violent one it sounds like.”

I snake my way through the sea of tables, and on the way I can’t help but get distracted by all of the yummy, delicious, ultra-cheap books. And have I mentioned they cost next to nothing?

“Oh, Fish, look,” I say, pulling a tattered paperback out of a box. “The Secret of the Old Clock! I just love Nancy Drew. I must have read all of her books one summer. They’re what got me hooked on mysteries. And would you look at the price? That can’t be right. They only want a quarter for it.”

A quarter? Maybe it’s missing a digit in the front.

“One would think. Why would the library give these away for free? And, oh my word—” I stop short as I scoop up a handful of pastel covered books. “Why, they’ve practically got the entire Sweet Valley High collection! You probably won’t believe this, but I spent every Friday night and all weekend reading these books growing up. Emmie, Mackenzie, and I used to pass them around like literary candy—they were just that good. Scoot over, would you? Make some room in there,” I say, stuffing as many gently, and some not so gently, used paperbacks into the carrier with her just as a box to my right filled with hardbacks catches my eye. “A dollar?” I muse at the price boldly written on the side.

Back away, Bizzy, Fish scolds. I know that look in your eye, and you’re hungry enough to scoop up every last one of these books. Think of the cottage. There’s hardly any room now that Jasper and his beast have taken up residence. You really should think about becoming a two resident home. And before you frown at me, it was Macy who suggested it the last time she visited. She was just being practical. And oh—she moans as I stuff a smaller Christmas themed hardback next to her—Bizzy. Now stop that. You know that there’s no place to put these.

“I’ll always find a place for books.”

I know you will. I’ve seen them eating up the shelves in that speck of a closet of yours.

“And don’t forget in those upper cabinets in the kitchen. I can hide anything up there and Jasper will be none the wiser.”

That’s because all he does in the kitchen is wait for you to make him a sandwich.

“Fish.” I laugh. “You’re awful. I love to make Jasper sandwiches. It’s our thing.”

Really? And how about washing his dishes? And his clothes? Are those your thing, too? Because you’ve doubled your chores since they’ve moved in, and you can’t argue with me on that because I’ve seen it.

“True. But Jasper leaves early for work and comes home late. And he’s got a commute going both ways. But don’t you worry. He’s grateful.” And he loves to show me just about every night how grateful he is.

Well, I do know he cares for you deeply. I’m glad about that. And I know Sherlock cares for you deeply. And well, he doesn’t even seem to notice me these days. It’s Clyde this, Clyde that.

“Fish Baker Wilder.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “You are so adorably jealous. Don’t you worry. No one can ever take your place in Sherlock’s heart. And Clyde, well, she’s completely gaga in love with the big lug, but could you blame her? Jasper is right. He’s sort of a chick magnet.” A book with a cover of a mouse on it catches my eye. “Look at this”—I’m quick to show Fish—“Of Mice and Misfortune,” I read. “A cozy mystery caper. I’ll get it for us to read by the fire.” I squeeze the book into the wonky quilt carrier and it nearly ejects Fish by proxy.

A couple of regency romances catch my eye and I pick one up. The redhead beauty on the cover suddenly looks as if she’s morphing into Hadley, and that dark-haired Lord looks an awful lot like Jasper from the back.

I can’t help but make a face at the cover.

“Not your cup of tea, I take it?” a friendly voice chirps and I turn to see Liv Womack grinning at me while holding out a plastic tote bag my way. “And your books are about to knock your cat right out of that backpack. You might want to use this instead.”

I laugh as I take the bag from her. “Thank you,” I say, quickly taking the books out of my carrier, much to Fish’s relief.

Leave the one with the mouse in here for me, Fish mewls. I rather like the company.

I do as I’m told and quickly smile back at the woman before me.

Liv’s wild gray hair looks like strands made from the finest silver as it shines in the sun, and her skin looks bronzed, leaving her teeth glowing back at me.

“No to the regency books?” she muses.

“I’m just starting out in the genre,” I tell her. “Actually, someone I know wrote a regency romance and used my husband as her muse.”

“Ah.” She tips her head back. “Hadley. So you went to the Writing Wenches meet-up? Hadley’s been penning that book for a while now. She talks about it now and again—she told the group the male lead was inspired by one of her exes.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “She’s sort of the honorary nutjob of the group. Sorry if she’s your friend. I don’t mean to insult her.”

A small laugh bubbles from me. “No worries. And I guess I can’t really blame her, I happen to be a little nutty about my husband, too.”

“Your husband being the operative words.” She gives a curt nod. I should know. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I had a nutter obsessed with my husband, too, once. And, well, let’s just say she’s his new wife and