by Liv Rancourt
“Here.” She poked at me till I rolled over, and then she interlaced our fingers, holding my hands against the bedspread. “Let me kiss you.”
She lay on her belly, her body beside mine, and kissed me. Long, deep, kisses, with our hands clasped tight. I felt it when she started rocking her hips against the bed, and I broke the kiss so I could taste the soft skin of her throat and run my tongue along her lovely collar bones. Her peak came quickly, her body rigid against mine, her grip on my hands turning my fingers white and bloodless.
She drew a deep breath and relaxed enough for me to take her in my arms. She used my chest as a pillow and, my eyelids heavy with sleep, I stroked her soft skin. I’d come to New Orleans to meet the girl of my dreams and I had, though real life wasn’t like my imagination. Discovering how we fit together might take a while, but I figured we had time. That night, it was enough to sleep curled up together in Vaughn’s big bed, a soft breeze surrounding us with the scent of wisteria.
The next morning when I got up to use the toilet, a little envelope with my name on it had been tucked into the edge of the mirror. Inside was the final piece of the puzzle: me and Vaughn, smiling.
Epilogue
...6 months later...
The bell above the door jingled, letting me know someone new had come into the shop. I lifted the presser foot, my knees knocking against the wooden crossbar underneath the sewing table. Vaughn’s cheerful greeting made me smile, and after adjusting the fabric, I lowered the presser and stepped on the pedal.
“Clara?”
Vaughn’s call cut through the buzz of the sewing machine. I finished the seam and glanced up at the workroom door. “Yes?” Just looking at her lifted my heart, her hair curling around her lovely face, the elegant blouse and scarf combination making her look like a red-headed Jean Harlow.
“Lorraine’s here. Come say hello.”
What did she want? Vaughn’s heels clicked on the linoleum floor of our new shop, a couple blocks uptown from Canal Street. A few of the more fashionable women in town had found us, we’d made a wedding dress for Mrs. Noschese’s friend, and if we were popular with a certain group of men, well, that was okay, too. These days only the wealthiest could afford custom dresses, though with Carnival approaching our business was picking up.
I snipped the trailing threads and draped the half-finished dress over my work table. I hadn’t seen Lorraine since my last shift at The Moonlight, and if she’d come to gloat over our failure, she’d have another thing to see. She hadn’t always been the nicest girl, but she had lots of friends. If she wanted to buy a dress, I’d do my best to make it pretty.
Out in the front of the store, I had to blink against the window’s glare.
“Well Clara Ryan!” Lorraine wrapped me into a sweaty, perfumed hug. “You two have done just fine for yourselves.”
I hugged her back, the heat rising in my cheeks. Mr. Dupont’s help had kicked us off, but Vaughn and I had worked round the clock to earn our portion of success. We still had a ways to go, but I’d been able to send Momma some money the last couple months, so I was satisfied.
We chatted with Lorraine, laughing about old times at the night club. Vaughn and I both pretended we missed it, and though I did think fondly of my little room on Bienville Street, I really just wanted to get back to work on the dress. Soon we’d close the shop for the night and climb the narrow staircase that led to our little apartment.
If the shop was our dream, then the time we spent upstairs together was our real life. Momma and the preacher might know what they know, but I’d learned a thing or two, myself. Wrapped in Vaughn’s arms in our narrow bed, I knew I’d found my way home.
Acknowledgements
It takes a village to write a story, at least in my world. I’d like to thank the best crew of beta readers a writer could have. Irene, Amanda, Kris, Michele, Margaret, and Rhay, you guys are amazing! I’d like to give a shout-out to the fabulous ME Dunn for technical advice on vintage fashion and all things drag. Any mistakes in that regard are totally and completely my own. And I’d also like to thank Jax Garren for her amazingly critical editing skills. This story is much better for having her eyes on it.
Two final thoughts: This piece would not have happened without the community I’ve found on the Group Facebook page. The people who hang out there have taught me more about being human than I ever imagined. And as always, the writing wouldn’t happen without my family. You guys are the foundation that allows me to dream. Snake n’ Amy 4evah.
Bio
I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire ... or sometimes demon. I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.
I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at my website & blog (www.liv-rancourt.blogspot.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (www.twitter.com/LivRancourt). For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, go HERE to sign up for my mailing list.
Come find me. We’ll have fun!
Teasers
Change of Heart is a distant prequel to the series I’m cowriting with Irene Preston. Here are the other books in the Hours of the Night series...
Vespers
Thaddeus Dupont has had over eighty years to forget...
The vampire spends his nights chanting the Liturgy of the Hours and ruthlessly disciplines those unnatural urges he's vowed never again to indulge. He is at the command of the White Monks, who summon him at will to destroy demons. In return, the monks provide for his sustenance and promise the return of his immortal soul.
Sarasija Mishra's most compelling job qualification might be his type O blood...
The 22-year-old college grad just moved across the country to work for some recluse he can't even find on the internet. Sounds sketchy, but the salary is awesome and he can't afford to be picky. On arrival he discovers a few details his contract neglected to mention, like the alligator-infested swamp, the demon attacks, and the nature of his employer's "special diet". A smart guy would leave, but after one look into Dupont's mesmerizing eyes, Sarasija can't seem to walk away. Too bad his boss expected "Sara" to be a girl.
Falling in love is hard at any age...
The vampire can't fight his hungers forever, especially since Sara's brought him light, laughter and a very masculine heat. After yielding to temptation, Thaddeus must make a choice. Killing demons may save his soul, but keeping the faith will cost him his heart.
⚜Vespers is a complete novel with no cliffhanger. It can be enjoyed as a standalone or read as the first book in the Hours of the Night series.
Find Vespers HERE
Bonfire
Silent night, holy hell.
Thaddeus and Sarasija are spending the holidays on the bayou, and while the vampire's idea of Christmas cheer doesn't quite match his assistant's, they're working on a compromise. Before they can get the tree trimmed, they're interrupted by the appearance of the feu follet. The ghostly lights appear in the swamp at random and lead even the locals astray.
When the townsfolk link the phenomenon to the return of their most reclusive neighbor, suspicion falls on Thaddeus. These lights aren't bringing glad tidings, and if Thad and Sara can't find their source, the feu follet might herald a holiday tragedy for the whole town.
This holiday novella can be enjoyed alone or as part of the Hours of the Night Series.
Find Bonfire HERE
To see other books by Liv Rancourt, check out MY BOOKS page!
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