Page 2 of Hot Girls Date Shifters

Crystal displays.

Candles.

Shelf after shelf of books—fictional, spiritual, and more.

Tea blends.

Hand crafted soaps.

Wind chimes.

Moon journals.

Because even if magic isn't real, hope certainly is.

And that's what I sell more than anything.

Hope. Fun. Whimsy.

The little bell above the door jingles as another customer leaves with a caramel latte and a book on herbal remedies.

“Have a wonderful evening!” I call.

“You too, Elsie!”

I glance at the antique clock hanging above the pastry case.

Six o'clock.

Only another half hour before the coffee counter closes. One more hour before the bookstore closes.

My favorite time of day.

I steam milk, sprinkle cinnamon over my evening chai latte, and inhale happily.

“This...”

I sigh.

“...is perfection.”

And exactly twenty-nine minutes later, the bell jingles again.

A group of women sweep inside like they're arriving at Fashion Week instead of my cozy little bookstore.

Designer handbags.

Six-inch heels.

Perfect blowouts.

Enough perfume to fumigate the county.

They don't even look around before one wrinkles her nose.

“Oh...”

She whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear.