Chapter 1

Lost Library

An Urban Fantasy Romance Series

Kate Baray

Copyright © 2014 by Catherine G. Cobb
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any references to people, places,

persons, or characters are all intended as fictional references

and are the work of the author.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Lizzie Smith had been Lizzie since before she could remember. When she moved back to Texas a few years ago—new job, new friends, new city—she tried to make the change to the grown-up version of her name. But Elizabeth hadn’t stuck. She also cut her long curly locks to what she imagined was a more mature medium-ish length. Over thirty and still answering to Lizzie seemed to scream perky—and Lizzie wouldn’t describe herself as perky.

But her name and her shorter curls stayed. She was still Lizzie Smith at thirty-four. A not particularly perky, not especially young, but not very old, Lizzie. She liked herself. Well, for the most part—everyone had flaws. But she didn’t think of herself as particularly unusual in any way. She wasn’t brilliant, artistic, or gorgeous. Just average.

When she received a large padded envelope, addressed in handwritten capital letters to Elizabeth Smith, a name not one friend or family member used, it stood apart from the similarly addressed bills and junk mailers. Not a bill, not from a close friend…

She picked up the padded envelope along with several bills, a fundraiser request—it was from her alma mater, so what else could it be—and the normal assortment of miscellaneous junk mail. She thrust everything under her arm and hurried into the house. Austin, Texas wasn’t cold often, but the temperatures had been abnormally low, record-breaking even.

Several minutes and two happily-pottied dogs later, she sat at the kitchen table to investigate her unusual mail. Hand addressed packages weren’t common, and receiving one was an event. She planned to savor the moment. As she’d set the package down on the table earlier, she’d recognized the unique heft and size of a hardcover book.