Nocturne | Book Chat with Irene Preston and Liv Rancourt

I’m going to stop saying it soon. You know, that line I have in quite a few posts… XYZ isn’t my cup of tea, but this sounds intriguing… Yep, here goes another one: vampires. Today’s bloodsucker is supplied by Irene Preston and Liv Rancourt, in their latest book Nocturne. And because you can’t simply hand me an interesting blurb and expect me to move on, I’ve just started reading the first book in the series, Vespers. And I like it so much that both the interlude, Bonfire, and Nocturne are already queued up on my kindle. 🙂 Despite, or because of, the Vampire.  (Links to both books can be found at the bottom of the page.)

If Vampire romance is something you love, or if you’re like me and like to try new things, then check this out. Irene and Liv have kindly provided an excerpt that got me interested. I hope it will do the same for you!

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Nocturne

Length: 296 pages
Genre: Vampire Romance
Buy at: Amazon | B&N | Apple Books | Kobo | More Stores

Blurb

It’s Mardi Gras, cher, but this year le bon temps kick off with murder…

For generations, the White Monks have treated the vampire Thaddeus Dupont as a weapon in their battle against demons. However, when a prominent matron drops dead at a party, Thaddeus and his lover Sarasija are asked to find her killer. Their investigation leads them to an old southern family with connections everywhere: Louisiana politics, big business, the Church, and an organization just as secret as the White Monks.

Meanwhile, an esoteric text containing spells for demon-summoning has disappeared, Thaddeus is losing control of le monstre, and Sara is troubled by disturbing dreams. These nightmares could be a side-effect of dating a vampire, or they could be a remnant of his brush with evil. As the nights wear on, Sara fears they are a manifestation of something darker – a secret that could destroy his relationship with Thaddeus.

Excerpt from Nocturne

The demons did not die easily.

We’d found them spray-painting nonsense syllables on the side of an abandoned brick building, not too many blocks from the river. One went down easily. The other, a small person, put up quite a fight, leaving Nohea and me bruised and breathless. Our walk back to the car was slow, and I was shamefully grateful to sink into the leather seat of my business manager’s sports car.

“Well.” Nohea slammed her door and glanced at me sideways. “That was a barrel of fun, wasn’t it?”

The second demon whimpered right before I deanimated her, and the echo of that pathetic sound tempered my response. “I’m glad no innocents were involved.” Assuming one of the possessed women had summoned the demon in the first place. Brother George’s accusation that I’d neglected my duty still chafed. I’d never refused to do anything they’d asked me to do.

Nohea rubbed at her face with an air of exhaustion. “So, where to, boss? You still want to chase Sara down?”

Did I? I stretched my sense, seeking Sara’s sweet warmth. And found… “Merde.” I whispered the word, surprise blossoming into a sense of horror.

“What?” Unconcerned, Nohea rolled her head from side to side, stretching as much as the small space would allow.

“I cannot find him.” I whispered the words, as if saying them any louder would make them true. I sprang from the car, spinning in a circle, reaching out with everything I possessed.
Rien.

Nohea climbed out of the car, eyes wide. “Thaddeus?”

“He is…nowhere.” I refused to give credence to the most obvious reason for this circumstance.
“He’s probably at the house by now. Come on, get back in the car.”

I made another slow circle, taking in the abandoned building, the ramshackle shotgun houses, the rust, the despair.

And not one particle of Sara’s spirit.

A buzzing noise came from the car, as unimportant and irritating as a wasp. Pain crashed over me in waves, and I stood with my hands clasped on top of my head, forcing my body to breathe.
The buzzing came again, and then Nohea’s voice. “Thaddeus, come on.” She stood in front of me, holding a cell phone. “Brother Michael wants to talk to you.”

“I do not…” The words faded. I clung to her gaze, as if by the force of our wills combined, we could alter this terrible thing.

She nodded once, sharply. “I’m sorry, Brother Michael, but Thaddeus is unavailable. How ’bout I take a message for you.” She paused, catching her lower lip in her teeth. “Okay.” Her silence went on a beat too long. “He says”—she pressed the phone to her chest—“wait. Just talk to him.”
Holding the phone out like a weapon, she came closer. I found myself taking it from her, holding it against my ear, all while trapped in a miasma of distress. “Yes?”

“Thaddeus, where is your companion? Where is Sara?” Brother Michael said frantically. “Nohea wouldn’t answer me just now, but you must know.”

“I…do not.”

About the Authors

About Irene Preston

Irene Preston has to write romances, after all she is living one.  As a starving college student, she met her dream man who whisked her away on a romantic honeymoon across Europe.  Today they live in the beautiful hill country outside of Austin, Texas where Dream Man is still working hard to make sure she never has to take off her rose-colored glasses.

Where to find Irene

IrenePreston.com | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Mailing List | Goodreads | After Hours

 

About Liv Rancourt
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 work or at home. 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.

Where to find Liv

LivRancourt.com | Facebook | Twitter | Mailing List | Goodreads | After Hours

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More from Irene Preston & Liv Rancourt

Buy from Amazon

Buy from Amazon