Book Review of Lost Volumes:
Enchanted Bookstore Legend Three
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Enchanted Bookstore Legend Three by Marsha A. Moore
When Lyra McCauley learns residents of Dragonspeir’s
Alliance are suffering with a deadly plague, she doesn’t heed the warnings of
her fiancé, wizard Cullen Drake, to remain safe in her human world. After all,
she’s the present Scribe—one of five strong women in her ancestry who possessed
unique magic, each destined to protect the Alliance against the evil Black
Dragon of the Dark Realm. With Cullen dependent upon Alliance power to maintain
his immortality, the stakes are doubled for Lyra.
She leaves her college teaching and puts herself at risk for
the community afflicted by black magic. To find a cure, she and Cullen travel
into the vile, lawless underworld of Terza to strike a bargain with an expert.
Their efforts further enrage the Black Dragon, vowing to decimate the Alliance
and avenge the murder of his heir.
Lyra must secure the three lost volumes of the Book of Dragonspeir. Written by the
three earliest Scribes, each book contains energy. Possession of the entire set
will enable overthrow of the Dark Realm. Following clues into dangerous lands,
Lyra and Cullen seek those volumes. His assistants, Kenzo the tiger owl and
Noba the pseudodragon, prove invaluable aids. Only if they succeed, will the
Alliance be safe and Lyra reach closer to the immortality she needs to live a
life with Cullen.
Series Blurb: Enchanted
The Enchanted Bookstore Legends
about Lyra McCauley, a woman destined to become one of five strong women in her
family who possess unique magical abilities and serve as Scribes in
Dragonspeir. The Scribes span a long history, dating from 1200 to present day.
Each Scribe is expected to journey through Dragonspeir, both the good and evil
factions, then draft a written account. Each book contains magic with vast
Lyra was first introduced to Dragonspeir as a young girl,
when she met the high sorcerer, Cullen Drake, through a gift of one of those
enchanted books. Using its magic, he escorted her into the parallel world of
Dragonspeir. Years later, she lost that volume and forgot the world and Cullen.
These legends begin where he finds her again—she is thirty-five, standing in
his enchanted bookstore, and Dragonspeir needs her.
When Lyra reopens that enchanted book, she confronts a series of quests
where she is expected to save the good Alliance from destruction by the evil Black
Dragon. While learning about her role, Lyra and
Cullen fall in love. He is 220 years old and kept alive by Dragonspeir magic.
Cullen will die if Dragonspeir is taken over by the evil faction…Lyra becomes
A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of art and nature spark life
into her writing. Her creativity also spills into watercolor painting and
drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transforming
into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy about cycling, she usually
passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and already
addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and that spiritual
quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She never has enough days
spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling
in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!
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From Chapter One: An Urgent Message
Lyra almost deleted the email marked urgent,
suspecting some virus that might take control of her computer, but stopped when
she realized the sender was her lover—a 220-year-old wizard, who rarely used a
computer. She couldn’t open the message fast enough.
mortals and lower magicals are taking violently ill. I’m leaving the bookstore
for a while to offer aid. DO NOT come to Dragonspeir. Stay safe in your world.
She stared at the screen, twisting a strand of her
long hair. Leaning forward, she gripped the armrests of the chair. Her breath
caught when she noticed how the dragon’s sapphire eyes on her new bloodswear
ring sparked from the energy of her concern. His message left her undecided,
reading between the lines and weighing the choices.
Those affected—mortals and lower magicals—seemed to
place her in the risk group, obviously Cullen’s concern. However, those mortals
were all born in Dragonspeir, while she originally came from Tampa. Lower
magicals did include members of both worlds. But as the current Scribe, Lyra
possessed inherited power at least as great as high-order wizards. She just
didn’t fully grasp how to command her magic yet.
She did want to help. Since her parents and dear Aunt
Jean died, the Guardians, wizards, dragons, and other residents of the Alliance
were her only family. Lyra’s unique powers might be useful, especially since
they now lacked an alchemist.
Eburscon disappeared after he attempted to steal her
scribal aura, and she’d heard no reports of him since, so he was presumed dead
by many. According to Cullen, no one wanted him back. However, living without a
person capable of creating remedies for a plague or widespread illness had left
many residents uneasy. Some talked about trying to persuade Tarom, the Dark
Realm’s alchemist, to switch his allegiance. Two centuries ago, he served the
Imperial Dragon, leaving only when he couldn’t tolerate working under Eburscon
Despite ranking as the top wizard, the Imperial
Sorcerer in the Alliance High Council, Cullen lacked alchemical skills. Even
though untrained, Lyra possessed a keen intuitive sense in the craft. She could
help him. Aries guided the fire in her scribal powers and also fueled her impatience.
Lyra checked and secured Aunt Jean’s cottage since the
last gasps of late winter storms in the upper peninsula of Michigan could be
Dashing off a few emails to her college students in
Florida, she gave them feedback on their independent study in the Fantasy Lit
course. She was glad her leave from on-campus teaching responsibilities
continued until the next fall term.
Lyra saved and printed the chronicle draft of her
bloodswear quest, completed at the end of last year. It was mid-March, and
she’d almost finished the written account, storing magic in her words that
would empower the Alliance—her role as a Scribe. The hard copy she stuffed into
a commuter bag to work on later with the Imperial Dragon and the other three
Guardians. She needed to sort through their research details that had helped
her kill the heir to the Black Dragon. Additional supplies could be conjured
Outside, the dock in the backyard looked
weather-beaten but sound. Waves from Lake Huron lapped at its old boards. In
the flower bed, the first spring perennials peeked through the packed ground
and would require plenty of care soon. Lyra hoped to be back in time to
maintain what her aunt had loved so much. Crocuses stood bravely against the
melting snowpack—a reminder.
As she turned from the garden, a large black butterfly
flitted around her head. It was the same type that had spied on her before and
been in her aunt’s room when she was killed—purple spots like eyes on its
wings. Suspecting it was a transformed magical from Dragonspeir’s Dark Realm,
Lyra swatted at the insect. Thinking that someone watched her leave caused a
chill to run down her spine.
Finally shooing it to the nearby bushes, she lifted
her head high, put her bag inside her silver Subaru sport wagon, and drove
straight to Drake’s Bookstore.
After parking in back, she twisted her dragon ring to
unlock the back door of Cullen’s shop, no longer needing the magical skeleton
key. “Sheridan, I’m using your portal,” she called out.
From his cage on the showroom counter, the cicada
chirped, “I already knew it was you, sweetheart. Nice perfume.”
Lyra shook her head. Darned bug never stopped
“By the way, Sire Drake told me to not let you pass.
Something about an illness in the Alliance. Don’t make me use my magic on you.”
“I’m going anyway,” she replied as she prepared
herself in the storage room.
“Like I knew you would,” he snapped.
She gave her ring another twist and stated, “Pateo porta!” In response, two metal
bookcases moved apart. Between them lay the connector to Dragonspeir. She
stepped across. The familiar tingling sensation now felt invigorating, when
last summer it had frightened her. Her jeans, t-shirt, and jacket transformed
into a full-skirted gown of light blue cotton under a navy cloak.
It was her first time back since being publically
honored for completing her bloodswear quest and sorcery studies. She’d have to
wait to find out if her new abilities could alter the clothing she acquired at
Lifting one side of the long garments, Lyra ran the
short distance along the wooded trail to the location of the old, sentry tree,
Gatekeeper Cranewort. Reminding her of the shape of grand live oaks in Florida,
his branches spread wide and high, taller than any nearby. His large, flat
leathery leaves were turned to collect the warm morning rays.
“Hello, Cranewort,” she called ahead. “I don’t mean to
disturb your sunbathing, but I need to pass to the Imperial Dragon’s lair, or
to the Meadow—whichever place I can help most with those who are sick.”
“Not sunbathing, child, merely enhancing my immune
functioning to bolster my health after the harsh winter. Sire Drake instructed
me to not permit your passage. He and all of us fear you will fall ill.” He
lifted extensions of his roots into a spiky barricade, one of his gate-keeping
“Perhaps I can help,” she maintained, hands on her
“It looks to be a horrible disease—elevated fever,
chills, vomiting blood. Some are dying. Please stay here, Adalyra.”
“I’m not like any from Dragonspeir. I won’t get it.”
Lyra hoped what she said was true but couldn’t turn her back on thousands who
“Well…you most certainly are unique.” He folded his
leaves and tipped his trunk forward to look at her directly. “The Alliance
relies on your special scribal abilities to battle the Dark Realm. Losing you
to illness would risk too much. Be wise and stay back.” He smoothed down his
bark and held out a twigged hand to her.
She stepped beyond his touch. “The entire Alliance is
my family, and I need to help them.”
The gnarled tree let out a sigh and lowered his roots.
“Very well. You have your own mind, and it is one of a leader. That is your
inheritance from the four female Scribes in your family. But, I expect you to
use every caution available. Sire Drake is in the Meadow. Stay with him.”
“I promise.” Lyra hurried toward the crossroads, which
connected dozens of trails. There she selected the short path leading to the
Pluch trees lined the trail. Their weeping branches,
active with new sap, swept after Lyra in attempt to caress her golden hair, now
grown almost to her waist. Flower buds on the bell flowers peaked out. The air
held gentle notes of fragrant jasmine from the vine’s first purple flowers. She
took a deep breath as she sped down the familiar walk. She had missed
Along the way, Lyra thought about her action, entering
the land without permission. Although she recently passed sorcery training for
all crafts except power throwing, Lyra only elevated her immortal status. In
Dragonspeir, they used the term afflation—having
received divine impartment of knowledge
and strength to endure more physical hardship than a non-magical. Until gaining
enough afflation to become fully immortal, she needed to be invited by the
Imperial Dragon to be his guest in Dragonspeir.
As a new Alliance sorceress, the Imperial Dragon decided when
he needed her. Lyra clearly broke his established protocol. But she often bent
Alliance customs to suit her needs while working for the greater good. So far,
she had only raised eyebrows, and no one troubled her. She hoped this time
would be the same, but entering a plague-ridden land against orders was a bit
different than wearing jeans or hugging dragons.
Dragons, magic, love, a quest,
fighting… all my favorite things in one book.
How can you not love that? All
it needed to be perfect was shifters and the Fae… although I really don’t think
they would work well with this story,
which was fabulous as is.
“Lost Volumes” is the third book in
the series. The whole series is a great
read, and I really don’t think I could pick a favorite book… although this one
I give this book 4.5 clouds.
product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
opinions or reviews.