Greetings!

It’s not often we get an M/M historical set in swoon-worthy 1920s Paris, but my good friend Liv Rancourt has written a romance befitting such a worthy setting. I invited her to the blog to tell you all about it. Read on!

Thanks so much, Selina, for inviting me to your blog! I really appreciate the chance to share Lost & Found with your readers!

It’s been a while since I released a new book and while my promo skills were a little rusty, I’m finding my way. Self-publishing has so many moving parts it can feel like juggling plates with one almost always ready to crash.

I’m definitely going to need a vacation after this. 😊

And given that it’s the setting of Lost & Found, the top vacation spot on my list is Paris. Writing a book about a city I’ve never visited was either very brave or a fine example of questionable judgment. I love the idea of Paris, though, so visiting in my mind was better than nothing at all.

I did a lot of reading – the history of Paris, a book about Montmartre, Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast – and I scrolled through tons of old photos. (You can check out my Pinterest page here. The page is under the story’s original name, L’Ami Mysterieux.) I could have done more research – I never watched Chocolat, for example, although it’s set in France at about the same period.

Ah well. I’ll save that for the sequel.

I also made a sincere effort to resuscitate my high school French. Duolingo and Babbel were my new best friends. I had a free hand with adding French phrases to the story and though I did my very best, my Parisian beta reader made a number (!!) of corrections.

Selina, someday I’m going to take you up on your offer to help me practice – for the next book! [SK note: Je suis à votre service, chérie.]

I love Paris because the whole place was designed with an eye to beauty and romance. Practicality was and is lower on the list. One of the main reasons I haven’t ever visited is that when I go, I’m going to want to stay for six months or a year, for long enough that I feel like part of the scene. I want to get to know the city’s nooks and crannies, the places that rarely make a tourist’s itinerary.

Until then, I’ll stick with the Paris in my mind. While I haven’t started the sequel yet, I have ideas for how it should go, so I know I’ll be back.

I hope you’ll visit with me! Lost & Found is on sale for $2.99 from now until the end of GRL on 10/20/19 at all ebook retailers, and it’s also available in paperback. Check out the excerpt here, and be sure and enter my rafflecopter giveaway for a $25 gift card. Happy reading!!

Buy Links

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Lost & Found Blurb

A dancer who cannot dance and a doctor who cannot heal must find in each other the strength to love.

History books will call it The Great War, but for Benjamin Holm, that is a misnomer. The war is a disaster, a calamity, and it leaves Benjamin profoundly wounded, his mind and memory shattered. A year after Armistice, still struggling to regain his mental faculties, he returns to Paris in search of his closest friend, Elias.

Benjamin meets Louis Donadieu, a striking and mysterious dance master. Though Louis is a difficult man to know, he offers to help Benjamin. Together they search the cabarets, salons, and art exhibits in the newly revitalized city on the brink of les années folles (the Crazy Years). Almost despite himself, Benjamin breaches Louis’s defenses, and the two men discover an unexpected passion.

As his memory slowly returns, Benjamin will need every ounce of courage he possesses to recover Elias’s story. He and Louis will need even more than that to lay claim to the love – and the future – they deserve.

About the Author

About Liv Rancourt
Liv Rancourt writes romance of all kinds. Because love is love, even with fangs.

Liv is a huge fan of paranormal romance and urban fantasy and loves history just as much, so her stories often feature vampires or magic or they’re set in the past…or all of the above. When Liv isn’t writing she takes care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether she’s at work or at home. Her husband is a soul of patience, her kids are her pride and joy, and her dogs – Trash Panda and The Boy Genius – are endlessly entertaining.

Liv can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at her website (www.livrancourt.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (www.twitter.com/LivRancourt). She also blogs monthly over at Spellbound Scribes (https://spellboundscribes.wordpress.com/). For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, go HERE to sign up for her mailing list or join the Facebook page she shares with her writing partner Irene Preston, After Hours with Liv & Irene. Fun stuff!

Giveaway

Below is the rafflecopter html for a $25 gift card. Giveaway ends 10/31/19.

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1f1867a736/?fbclid=IwAR3Oa299I_mWmN7gn1PD9kaOmL6GmU4tT0W4dwf0zcvFD51IGQ4MrOFmWGo

Excerpt:

M. Richard was wise to have sent me straightaway. By the time I strolled down the Boulevard de Magenta to Le Marais, found the street and the shop, and had an extensive fitting, I barely made it home in time to meet Louis. I was putting the finishing touch on my tie—the Windsor knot gave me trouble—when he knocked on my door.

“Bonjour, I’ll be…” All I could do was stare. Never a shabby dresser, tonight the exquisite cut of his suit made the most of his broad, lean body, and his precise hairstyle brought out the dramatic lines in his face. “One, um, one moment.”

I backed away, gesturing for him to come in. Even his cane had been replaced by an elegant black walking stick with a gold handle.

He paused a moment before responding to my request. “Double breasted? Where have you been hiding this? You look superb.”

I busied myself collecting my wallet, murmuring the name of the shop.

“In the Marais Quarter?” He spoke with a hint of amusement. “You traveled far.”

Collecting myself, I moved toward the door. “M. Richard sent me.”

He smirked. “Good thinking on his part.”

The evening was warm and clear, the memory of sunset only an aqua light in the western sky. In the half-light, I brought myself to broach the possible awkwardness between us. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

“I find myself drawn to your plight.”

“You do?”

“Absolument.”

I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or not. “Regardless, I do appreciate the invitation.” We smiled at each other through the twilight. “Now, should I rely on you to speak for me?”

That earned me a raised eyebrow.

“My accent.”

Louis laughed. “My friend tells me that most of the other guests share your particular malady, so you’ll feel at home.”

At home? “Perhaps.”       

His chuckle dispelled what was left of my distress, and we walked on in comfortable silence. Navigating the narrow stairs to the Métro proved a challenge for Louis, so once we were on the platform, I took the initiative. “Someday, you should let me look at that.” I waved in the direction of his leg.

“Someday, I would like you to do more than just look.”

Louis met my surprise with bland amusement, though when it became apparent I was too flustered to respond, he changed the subject. “The train won’t come for a while. Tell me more about your friend Elias. I need to know the kind of man he is, to know whom I should talk to tonight.”

“What kind of man?” Looking to the past was safer than dealing with the gentleman standing next to me, so in the concrete cave, under the harsh fluorescent lights, I told him a story. “Elias is always up to something, you know? Like…” A particular memory made me smile. “Do you ski?”

“Un peu.” He indicated a small distance with thumb and forefinger.

“Okay, so one night, he knocked on my window after I’d gone to bed. There was about three feet of snow on the ground, but the moon was out, and he wanted to ski.”

I’d dressed as quickly as possible. Outside, the air was so cold, ice crystals formed with every breath. “He followed me to the barn, where I saddled up our old gelding Rocky. Elias didn’t have skis of his own, so he grabbed mine and climbed up behind me on the horse. The moon was huge that night, and so bright we could see just fine.”

“We rode up along the ridge behind our house, four, maybe five miles until we got to the crest. Our plan was he should ski, and I’d ride down to meet him, and then we’d switch. Rocky was stable enough even for Elias to ride.”

His expression neutral, Louis nodded at me to continue. A rumble started from far off. The train must be coming.

“Well, what we didn’t figure was there was ice underneath the snow. Things had warmed up just enough to melt a little, then we’d had a hard freeze, followed by another dump of snow. Elias got himself buckled into the skis, and right as he’s about to take off, he hollers to the heavens.” And with the moon behind him, he’d looked like some forest spirit come to life. “That yell stirred things up, and the snow started sliding.”

The rumble grew, and a pinpoint of light appeared in the tunnel ahead of us. “He’d set off an avalanche.” Though miles and years away from that moment, my heart still skipped a beat. The noise of the train echoed the roar of the snow in my mind. “I thought, God, he’s done. He’ll be buried in snow, and I’ll never find him.

“I brought Rocky as close to the edge as I dared, but all I saw was snow and ice and torn-up trees. We raced down the ridge, faster than I’d ever seen that horse move, through the valley to the place where we usually met up. I figured Rocky and I would do better climbing up to find Elias rather than trying to get down from the top. And you know what?” Full of the one moment I’d never forget, I barely looked at Louis. “He skied up like nobody’s business. He’d stayed just ahead of the snow, said he’d never skied so fast in his life.” I looked toward the ceiling, blinking fast. Elias had made it, his face burned from the cold. His eyes, though. His eyes had been full of stars.

“Come.” Louis took my arm, leading me back to the present as much as onto the train. We fell silent, settling side by side on one of the wooden bench seats. When Louis spoke, the sound of his voice startled me.

“I think your friend has a very big soul.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the window, though all I could see was the gray cement wall of the tunnel. “Big soul? Yes.” And a bigger heart.

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