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The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance
The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance
The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance
Ebook47 pages53 minutes

The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance

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Andrea Garvey is a 4th year PhD student at a prestigious east coast university. She's a typical bookworm: solitary, shy, and intensely intelligent. One day in late May the brutal murder of a student amongst the rare books in the Keibence Library rips her quiet life apart. As mystery and rumors about the school's secret societies engulf the city, Andrea finds herself drawn into the case, and to the stunningly beautiful and ruthless Detective Claire Hunt as she tracks down the killer, suspecting even the most unlikely of librarians. Will Detective Hunt find the murderer, or will the investigation careen out of control, shattering Andrea's quiet life and innocence forever. All paths lead back the Keibence Library, to the murder scene and the fateful moment that Andrea Garvey and Claire Hunt met. Love and murder intertwine in a story of two women searching for the truth in this mystery.

A Standalone Short Story with No Cliffhanger! 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 26, 2018
ISBN9781386489986
The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance

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    The Keibence Love - Lesbian Mystery Romance - Shannon Ellison

    The Keibence Love

    Anyone who knew Andrea Garvey, even people who didn’t know her: strangers who glimpsed her across the quad, the students in her class, visitors to the library, could sum her up in one word—bookish. From the round-framed tortoise-shell glasses balanced on the end of her button nose, to the brown leather oxfords and argyle socks peeking out from the upturned cuff of her sensible, high-waisted tan work slacks, she was just bookish. This is not to say that she was frumpy. She was as prim and elegant as a graduate student in the library sciences could be. She had a slender build that made even sweater vests look chic. Long brown eyelashes that fluttered against her lenses, and thick hair pulled back and always secured with a pencil. It was no secret that half the men in her program had crushes on her. Even some of her students had made cautious advances during her TA office hours, but she had never once accepted an offer for a cup of coffee or a glass of whiskey.

    Never accepted, that is, until one night in late May. Andrea sat, flustered, over a desk stacked high with undergraduate papers. Professor Neal, her boss and the head of the Library Sciences Department, had already gone on his summer break, leaving her to muddle through his corrections without so much as a thank you.

    She had planned to go to the Keibence Library to work on her PhD research on the importance of symbols of violence in northern European medieval manuscripts. The Keibence was the rare books and manuscripts library on campus. The envy of any student looking for primary sources. She was privileged to have unchaperoned access to the stacks. There she would wander along the corridors of mysterious spines—bindings of books whose titles had long since worn away. The smell of dust and ancient paper made the air thick and pressed against her body comfortingly in the silence of the library. It was the most soothing place on campus; utterly tranquil, and yet alive with the lives and words of thousands of authors throughout the history of the written word.

    This is where Andrea’s mind wandered as she reread the same sentence of sloppy undergraduate prose over again, failing to absorb its contents for the tenth time. It had been an hour, and the stack of papers hadn’t gotten any smaller. She was considering giving up entirely when, blessedly, a knock on her office door interrupted her tedium.

    H-hello? she cleared her throat, glancing at the dark wood of the door. Come in, she said, almost in a whisper. Who could it be? Graduation had passed. All of the students were supposed to be long gone.

    Prof Garvey? The door pushed open, and in stepped the lanky form of Jack Deluc.

    What are you still doing here? they asked each other in unison.

    Andrea took him in, allowing the smallest of smiles to cross her lips. She liked Jack. Or at least, she liked his writing. He was the only student who seemed to take the time to form his own academic opinions, rather than regurgitating the words of Professor Neal.  Nineteen-years-old and oh-so precocious. She liked how he leaned against the

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