How a lesbian couple opened a welcoming new bookstore in Roanoke
When Mae Whitaker and June Holloway sketched out plans for an independent bookstore on the backs of receipts, their friends smiled politely and changed the subject. Bookselling runs on famously thin margins, and Roanoke's downtown had lost two bookshops in the past decade. Yet the couple kept meeting over coffee, drafting floor plans together, and adding to a shared spreadsheet of titles they wanted on the shelves. Eighteen months later, those receipts and spreadsheets became the front door of their new store on Campbell Avenue.
The two met in 2019 at a reading group in Christiansburg and bonded over their mutual love of queer literature, southern poetry, and dog-eared paperbacks. Mae had spent twelve years managing a regional chain store, while June worked as a high school librarian in Salem. Their venture is partly a love letter to the mentors who put books in theirs.
A reading life becomes a business plan
Both women grew up surrounded by books in different ways. Mae's mother ran a small lending library out of their garage in Melbourne before the family relocated to the United States when Mae was nine, and she remembers filling tote bags with whatever she could carry. June's childhood was anchored by weekly trips to the public library in Covington, where a kindly librarian introduced her to the works of Audre Lorde and Adrienne Rich. Those early encounters shaped the kind of space they wanted to build: one where curious readers could wander in and find something unexpected.
Their combined professional experience gave them a practical edge. Mae understood supplier relationships, inventory turnover, and the rhythms of seasonal buying, while June knew how to build a teen section that didn't condescend. Together, they drafted a business plan that leaned heavily on specialisation rather than scale. They would carry the usual bestsellers, but the heart of the store would be a deep queer literature section, a rotating display of Virginia authors, and a children's corner stocked with picture books featuring two mums, two dads, and every shape of family.
Why Roanoke, and why this corner of it
Roanoke was not an obvious choice on paper. The city's population has hovered around one hundred thousand for years, and the surrounding valley still skews conservative in places. But the couple saw something others missed: a revitalising downtown, a growing roster of locally owned restaurants, and a university population hungry for cultural anchors. They rented a former print shop on Campbell Avenue with tall windows and exposed brick, gutted it themselves over the summer, and opened in October.
The decision mirrored choices made by independent booksellers in places like Melbourne's Brunswick Street strip or Sydney's Newtown, where queer-friendly retailers have clustered for decades. In Australia, marriage equality became law in late 2017 after a national survey, and similar cultural shifts have slowly reshaped the Blue Ridge. Roanoke does not have the population density of Melbourne's inner north, but it has the same appetite for independent spaces run by people who care about their community. They were drawn to Roanoke partly because of its growing creative scene, including a thriving drag community, and they now point visitors to a drag shop guide when someone comes in hunting for pieces for an upcoming show.
Building shelves that feel like a welcome
Walking into the shop feels closer to entering someone's well-read sitting room than a retail outlet. The staff handwrite picks on index cards and pin them above each section. There is a quiet reading nook at the back with two armchairs rescued from a closing church sale, and a long communal table where locals are encouraged to stay, sip coffee, and read before buying.
The couple have also leaned into events. A monthly queer film night screens documentaries and features in the back room, with discussion led by visiting scholars from Virginia Tech. The schedule has included a recent Iranian film whose layered narrative about identity and displacement drew a thoughtful crowd on a rainy Thursday. The events calendar also includes drag story hour on Saturday mornings, local author spotlights, and a monthly repair café for well-loved paperbacks.
Bookselling in 2026 is harder than the spreadsheet suggested
The first six months have been a schooling. Wholesale costs have climbed faster than the couple expected, and the algorithm-driven recommendations at major online retailers keep eroding the discovery role indie stores once played. June now spends two evenings a week wrestling with point-of-sale software, and Mae has taken on evening shifts at a local catering company to keep cash flow steady while the shop builds its regulars.
Their challenges echo those faced by booksellers in cities as far apart as Hobart and Brisbane, where independent shops compete with national chains and same-day delivery from warehouses in Sydney. Australian booksellers have responded with loyalty programmes and signed-edition clubs, and the Roanoke couple are studying similar tactics. They launched a subscription box in March that ships a themed bundle of books each quarter, and they have begun partnering with local schools for author visits and reading incentives.
How the shop fits into Virginia's wider queer story
The couple see their shop as one thread in a broader movement across the commonwealth. Virginia has become a destination for LGBTQ families, including those formed through adoption, and resources like a foster adoption story highlight how the state's social services have opened up over the past decade. Their children's corner now includes picture books and middle-grade novels featuring adopted siblings, two mums, two dads, and chosen family of every configuration.
The shop also functions as a quiet information hub. Visitors who move to Roanoke from larger cities often arrive looking for community, and the couple keep a binder of local therapists, family doctors, and family lawyers who welcome queer clients. The store has hosted panels on topics ranging from estate planning to parenting, and a recent evening on foster care drew both prospective parents and social workers into conversation.
Comparing independent bookstore models
| Feature | Roanoke couple's shop | Melbourne indie | Sydney Newtown cluster |
|---|---|---|---|
| Core focus | Queer lit, Virginia authors | Literary fiction, design | Zines, queer lit, art books |
| Pricing | Standard indie markup | Standard indie markup | Standard indie markup |
| Event programming | Film nights, author talks | Readings, launches, music | Drag brunches, panel nights |
| Community ties | Local schools, drag scene | Writers' festivals | Activist orgs, galleries |
Each model relies less on margin per book and more on becoming a trusted local institution, whether through a writers' festival partnership, a drag brunch booking, or a school reading programme.
The couple already have a debut novel by a Virginia-born author pencilled in for the club's first meeting. The book club itself launches in January, when members will gather around the long communal table each month to discuss a single queer title over coffee and pastries.