The magic of libraries

The heroine of my current book is a librarian. Something I always wanted to be. I yearned to be the custodian of all those books. Keeping them in order. And, even better, having unlimited access to them all.

When I was a child, we visited the library faithfully, Mom would herd all of us up those stairs, the sound of our shoes echoing in the stairwell and then she'd pull open that heavy glass door. The whoosh of cool air would greet us, carrying with it the whisper of a thousand stories waiting.

"Five books each," she'd remind us, though I already knew the rule by heart. Five books. Never enough.

The shelves stretched before us like promises. Row after row of stories that someone, somewhere, had needed to tell. Authors who'd poured their hearts onto pages, captured what was in their imagination, then put them out into the world. And here they all were—every story equal on the shelf, waiting for the right reader to claim it.

My sisters and brothers would wander, debating between this fantasy series or that mystery novel. But I always knew what I wanted. I'd mapped out my selections during the week, mentally arranging my literary feast. While they deliberated, I'd already have my five treasures in hand, sometimes cracking open the first one right there between the stacks.

When we were done choosing, all the books would be carefully piled into the cardboard library box. Then we'd head home, and I'd retreat to my bedroom, door closed, world shut out. Those books weren't just entertainment—they were places I’d escape to, people I would meet.

The magic wasn't just in the stories themselves, though. It was in the knowing that all of this—every single book—was mine for the taking. Free. No questions asked. Just a simple promise to bring them back so the next reader could discover the same magic.

I still go to the library and still choose books. I’m allowed far more than the mere five, but five is enough. I still look at the full shelves and feel the tug of each story. And, even better, now my own books sit on those shelves waiting for other people to read about people who have taken up space in my mind, who I’ve thought about and struggled with.

In The Rancher Comes Home, Bailey Novak loves her job as a librarian for the same reasons I did. For the books and the possibilities they offer.

On all those shelves, adventure calls. Love stories unfold. And possibility, dressed up as paper and ink, sits patiently on every shelf, ready to transform an ordinary afternoon into something extraordinary.

The library remains what it always was—a place where dreams have addresses and magic has call numbers. A place where the only requirement for adventure is curiosity, and the only price for wisdom is time.

Some things are too precious to lose. Thank goodness for libraries, keeping the magic alive, one story at a time.

Click on the book cover to get The Rancher Comes Home and get to know Bailey Novak and lose. yourself in her sweet romance.