Haunted Happenstance: A Sapphic Spooky Season ErotiCom, page 1
Haunted Happenstance
A SAPPHIC SPOOKY SEASON EROTICOM
IRENE BAHRD
Copyright © 2024 by Irene Bahrd
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Author Note: All names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
For all of my trash pandas.
Contents
Content Warnings
1. Tara
2. Jen
3. Tara
4. Jen
5. Tara
6. Jen
7. Tara
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Content Warnings
By reading this book, there is a good chance you will experience the following side effects:
Wet panties… times two
You’re welcome.
All jokes aside, this is a slow-to-medium burn novella, with on-page explicit content. It’s a bit more vanilla than my other books, but is still intended for mature audiences. It contains minor spoilers for a different series, Undeclared Heir and Undecided Heiress. Also, because it’s lower on the spice side for my books, only expect this sexy read to have your hands in your pants maybe twice before it’s over.
Additionally, there are scenes with:
Vanilla sexytime — sorry, most you’ll get is vibrator play
Butt stuff for like a second
If you are triggered by anything in this book, do us both a favor and don’t read anything else in my backlist. The rest of my books are equally (or more) unhinged.
Finally, this book is NOT a how-to guide. Please be safe and talk to your doctor about what works best for you and/or your sexual partners regarding STI protection. Tara and Jen are fictional, you are not.
Chapter 1
Tara
After spending the summer with my family in California, I’m relieved to be back home in Calgary. I’m six weeks away from publishing my first polyamorous novella for Halloween, and need to finish edits without distractions. The sooner I’m done with this story, the better; I’m just not feeling it. There’s more smut than plot, which is a deviation from my backlist. Admittedly, I’m writing the ‘why choose’ because my readers have been begging me to for years—it’s a popular genre right now. It’s not my favorite book I’ve written, but it’ll have to do.
I’d like to take all of the credit for the book premise, but when my girlfriend, Greta, cheated on me with my own brother—then suggested a threesome—a friend suggested I turn it into a book. All fictional, of course. Names changed to protect the guilty. I went down the rabbit hole of reading poly books for inspiration. It was that, or make it a revenge cheating book. In my brother and Greta’s defense, she didn’t know he was my brother when they hooked up, and he didn’t know Greta and I were dating. We were on a break. Yes, just like Ross and Rachel in “Friends,” except my story is a bit messier.
As soon as this monstrosity of a book is done, I need to dive back into my sapphic novellas. So, in the name of research, I’m traveling to Coal’s Lake this weekend for the grand opening of a new bookstore—The Dead End. It claims to be haunted and carries a variety of sapphic books, including some by my favourite authors. A quick overnight trip should do the trick; it’s a write off, after all.
Pulling up to the quaint hotel where I reserved a room for the night, I find a close parking spot near the lobby entrance. I grab my overnight bag from the trunk, sling it over my shoulder, and walk briskly to the door to avoid the light rain. According to the weather report, it’s supposed to let up later tonight, and tomorrow will be a delightful 20°C—not sweater weather, but it beats the heat of California.
I’m greeted by a tall drink of water of a man at the reception desk. “Welcome to Jamie’s Lodge. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes”—I glance at his name tag—“Axl. It should be under Tara Allen.” I make a mental note to write his name down for a future book.
“Allen, Allen, All-en… Ah, here we go. One night?
“Yep.” I offer a warm smile.
“Great. All I’ll need is your ID and a credit card to keep on file for incidentals. It will do a soft pull for fifty dollars, but will refund your card within three business days for anything not used.”
I hand him both and he types away at the computer. “All right, I think we’re all set.” He passes them back to me with a keycard. “If you’re new here, we’re more of a Christmas town, but a lot of the stores decorate for the fall and Halloween.” Pulling out a map, he circles a few places in town. “Best coffee is The Reindeer Cafe, and The Dead End is having their grand opening tomorrow.”
“That’s why I’m here!” I lower my voice to a secretive whisper. “I heard it’s haunted.”
“Ah, so if you’re into that? You’ll love the pub next door to the bookstore, The Boos. I know what you’re thinking, cheesy name, right? It totally is. But my girlfriend’s best friend owns it, so don’t tell anyone I said that. Rumour has it, the pub is haunted, too.”
For the first time in weeks, I’m giddy with the possibilities. I don’t believe in ghosts, or any other paranormal entities, but it’s fun to pretend; especially with Halloween right around the corner.
Axl gives me a list of restaurants in town and check-out information. I elect for a late check-out to get a little writing done before I need to leave for Calgary tomorrow. Dropping off my bag in the room, I change into a cute black dress and apply a coat of dark cherry lip stain. With a quick swipe of mascara, I’m looking human again. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a fun friend for the night? I slip on my emerald green plastic-rim glasses, and tie up my mousy brown hair that’s in desperate need of a touch up, then I’m out the door.
Based on the map Axl gave me, once I’m down to the main street in town, everything is within walking distance. Thankfully he’s correct and it’s a quick drive to the pub he suggested, with ample parking out front.
The Boos as cheesy as he described—the font on the sign is reminiscent of Goosebumps books I read as a kid. As I walk inside, I’m in awe—it is a book lover’s dream with an entire wall dedicated to horror and mystery titles. My fingers brush the spines as I walk past, and the bartender greets me, pulling my attention from the books.
“Hi there! Table, booth, or bar.”
I take a quick survey of the bar, and nearly every table and booth is filled with two to four patrons, all reading books. It’s eerily quiet, only a few people in the crowded space talking to each other in hushed tones. There are three empty barstools, so I decide to take my chances, slipping onto one of them and ordering a vodka soda with lemon.
“I’ll have it right up. Feel free to borrow from the bookshelf. All of the books are donated for your enjoyment while you’re here.”
Unable to help my beaming smile, I hurry off the stool and peruse the shelves. As I settle on a cosy murder mystery, a gorgeous woman walks in with bright green eyes and honey blonde hair braided over her shoulder. The air leaves my lungs and I can’t tear my eyes away. She doesn’t give me a second glance, walking past me to the bartender who kisses her on the cheek. Disappointment settles in my gut—the cute ones are always taken.
“Anna and James are coming today for the opening,” she squeals in an adorable English accent. I take a seat at the bar with my book, eavesdropping just to listen to her talk. I couldn’t care less what about; that accent is to die for.
“That’s amazing! I thought they were coming for Christmas.”
The smile on her face lights up the entire room. “I know! Anna just sent me a text that they landed in Calgary and will pop by late tonight or in the morning. Their anniversary is on Christmas, so James has something big planned for her. Maybe I’ll go back home for the holidays to see my mum. I miss all of them so much.” She looks to her right, and our gazes meet. My cheeks flush as I quickly look away; I shouldn’t have been listening in. Whispering to her friend, I’m able to still make out, “Who is that beautiful woman at the bar? She’s not from around here.”
I don’t dare glance over to see who else is sitting to either side of me, and instead busy myself with reading my book. The bartender sets my vodka soda in front of me, and as I’m about to pay, the blonde snatches up the bill from the other side of the bar.
My brows pinch. “Oh, I’m sorry, is there something wrong?”
“Yes, there absolutely is.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times, at a loss for words. The bartender takes the bill from her, laughing, “Jen, you need to behave. Stop scaring my patrons. Don’t you have work to do? Do I need to call Beth to drag you out of here?”
Jen chuckles, “Beth is likely bent over or gagging on Axl’s cock; she won’t take the call.” I nearly spit out my drink. “I’m not scaring anyone, right?” she asks me with a light lick of her lips. “Your drink is on me. You should pop by next door when you’re done.” She scribbles her name and phone number onto the bill and sets it in front of me. “Just in case you would rather grab a drink with me inste ad.”
“Next door? As in the bookstore?”
She doesn’t reply. As quickly as Jen came in, she’s out the door, leaving the bartender laughing. “Don’t mind her. Yes, she owns the bookstore next door that’s having its grand opening tomorrow. She’s a bit on edge about it… but she never gives out her number. I can’t remember the last time she was impulsive.”
Chapter 2
Jen
Deep breath in through my nose, out through my mouth. I repeat my breathing exercises for several minutes, jumping at the sound of the bell above my shop. The stunning woman from earlier hesitantly steps in.
With a shy smile, she merely says, “Hi.”
I can’t help drinking her in. It’s been ages since I’ve been with a woman—they tend to get attached—but I’d happily make an exception for this one. Staring for entirely too long, I blink away a brief fantasy of her riding my face with that flowy black dress pooling around my head, and offer a professional smile. With the sexy librarian vibes she’s giving off, she may not be up for that, likely more of a ‘lights off and snuggle first’ type. Hell, she may not even be into women.
But still seriously out of my league.
“Hello. I apologise, I didn’t get your name earlier.”
“Oh, well, that depends,” she sheepishly replies.
“Depends?” I frown.
“If I’m here as an author frequenting a bookstore, or if you’d like to join me for a drink.”
Unable to hide my grin, I reply, “How about both?”
“I’m Tara Watson as an author, or Tara Allen.” She shrugs.
“Tara Watson? The Tara Watson? You’re fucking joking.” I rush to one of my shelves with novellas I’m collecting for ‘Novella November.’ Skimming the titles, I pull Fucking Flowers, which has a flower in place of the ‘u’ in the title. “This is you?”
“That’s me.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, though there’s no hair to move; it’s neatly tied up in a bun.
“I fucking love your books! A famous author is here in my shop? Bloody hell! Beth and Tawny are never going to believe me!”
Tara moves closer, and the lights flicker in the shop. “Not again,” I groan.
“What’s wrong?”
I stifle a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.” Tara crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to them.
Fuck. When was the last time I got laid?
“Do you believe in magic?” I hand her the title Undecided Heiress from my Regency romance section.
“This looks like a historical romance, not paranormal.” Tara cocks and eyebrow.
With my filter nowhere in sight, I word-vomit all over this beautiful creature in front of me. “All right, buckle up for a storytime. Before I left England, strange things were afoot with my friend, Anna. She had a dream that she was stuck in a book—this book. Except, it was Undecided Heir when it all began.” I tap the novel and a zing of electricity zaps up my arm. I shake away the coincidence. “A couple weeks later, she met the man from that dream, James. Except, he was was obviously not fictional and they had never met before. None of it made sense. Next thing I know, I’m living here in Coal’s Lake. But every so often, lights flicker, like they did just now. I choose to believe it’s either a ghost, or some sort of book magic from Anna’s adventure.”
Tara blinks a few times, then shakes her head. “A ghost? Book magic? I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”
“I must sound mad. Let me start over. Hello. I’m Jen, and I don’t belong in Coal’s Lake.”
The ground shakes beneath us and she grabs my arm to hold herself steady. Books fall from the stacks, and Tara rushes me under a table for shelter. I’ve never experienced an earthquake before, but I never imagined it would feel like this—figured it to be more of a ripple of the floor than the building falling down around us.
Once it settles, she lets out a long breath. “Are you okay? We haven’t had one that bad that I can remember.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You?” My heart is still racing, likely due more to our proximity than the damn earthquake.
“I’m sorry, but this is a bit much for me.” Tara cautiously exits our makeshift shelter and I follow her. “If you’d like for me to sign your in-stock books, I’d be happy to, but this is all too strange. Thank you for the dr—”
Lifting my hands in front of me in surrender, I rush out, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. My friends are coming into town later, and my opening… Now there is a pretty author in my shop.” I bite my lip, shaking my head. “I’m cursed; it’s the only explanation.”
“More like certifiably insane,” she grumbles under her breath.
“Or that.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” I huff a small laugh. Glancing around the room, I have my work cut out for me. Books are scattered everywhere, trinkets and candles toppled over.
“She’s only here for one night,” a voice taunts. My internal dialogue can take a back seat, now is not the time to play. Tara already thinks I’m mad. Most people do.
Except, the voice isn’t my own; it’s an older woman’s.
Tara’s brows pinch. “How do you know I’m here for the night?”
“I don’t, didn’t. You’re only here for the night?”
“Why would you say that?I didn’t tell you—”
“A coven only takes two witches,” the voice murmurs.
“Two?” I shout into the shop. “Not according to my PNR books!”
“Fine, you need three. That’s not the point.”
“That’s it! I’m out.” Tara pivots and makes a bee line for the front door of my shop. I can’t say I blame her, I’m a bit startled by all of this myself. She pulls on the handle, but the door doesn’t open. Examining it closer she asks mostly to herself, “Is there a hidden lock?”
“Here, allow me?” I hurry over—no need to keep this beautiful creature captive. When I try the door, it doesn’t budge.
“The Four of Wands is in play, my pets. So is the Two of Cups. She must not leave.”
“What the fuck are you going on about?” I shout to what is likely an imaginary friend. I sound more ridiculous than Anna when she was having her dreams. But, I double down. “Cups and wands? It’s not a bloody tea party with wizards!” Lowering my voice, I ask Tara, “You heard the bit about wands, yeah?”
“Yep,” she replies two octaves higher than normal. “What the hell is happening?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Chapter 3
Tara
The last several minutes, the shop is eerily quiet. The woman’s voice hasn’t graced us with her presence again, and I still can’t manage to leave the shop. It has to be a prank someone is playing on us.
Rain begins pelting the windows of the bookstore. In an instant, the overhead lighting disappears and all candelabras are lit with dancing flames. This is beyond anything electricity could conjure, and Jen’s hands have been visible the entire time; no remote in sight.
“Two of Cups? What could that mean?” Jen asks as she begins pacing, wringing her hands. “Four of Wands… Is it a riddle? Maybe I can call Anna? She might know what it is.”
Jen rushes to the cash register to retrieve her phone, and I reluctantly follow. Curiosity is getting the better of me. She may be beautiful, but she’s also likely suffering from some sort of mental condition. Then again, perhaps I am too?
What was in that drink at the bar?
After a few swipes, she has no service. I check my phone and find I also have no internet or cellular connection. “I know this is weird as fuck, Jen, but who could be playing this joke on you? Does anyone have access to your internet router? Your front door lock?”
“You two are testing my patience. Must I do everything myself?” the omniscient voice demands.
