BJ Sikes has a new sapphic historical steampunk romance out: Her Runaway Lady.

Solange doesn’t have time for love. She’s too busy working her way up in the Parisian millinery trade. Her goal: to become rich and lift her family out of poverty. So when a beautiful aristo whirls into the millinery fascinated by hat making, Solange isn’t interested. Or so she tells herself.

Louise-Marie hates the fancy parties she’s dragged to at Versailles, hates the idea of marrying anyone, but loves hat-making. Running away from home to become a milliner seemed like a good idea but the life of a working-class shop girl is harder than she imagined. And her new coworker doesn’t seem to like her much.

Thrown together in the cramped backroom of a millinery shop and a shared garret room, their tensions fray, tangle, then bind.

But ambition doesn’t leave room for longing. And love was never part of Solange’s plan. When she exposes Louise-Marie’s secret in her pursuit of prosperity, will she lose everything?

Series Sale!

Immerse yourself in a reimagined Paris of the 1880s, a Belle Epoque That Never Was, the steampunk-flavoured world of the Roboticist of Versailles. All three books are on sale during the OWI tour for $.99 each – 75% off! You do not need to read the other two books before reading Her Runaway Lady.

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Excerpt

The milliner’s shop was full of customers, with their chatter and clouds of warring perfumes, but when the redhaired aristocrat stepped through the door, Solange couldn’t take her eyes off her. She turned from the customer she was waiting on, lowering the order book to the counter. Sunlight haloed the young woman, lighting up the red-gold curls frizzed around her face. She was pale, a true redhead, with a dusting of light freckles across her cheeks. No shop girl or woman from around here could afford the high fashion she wore so she had to be rich. She evoked a perfect pure-white courtier from the old regime, even moving like the automatons of that court, stiff but graceful, as if trained from birth to be in complete control of her movements. Solange had rarely seen a woman so beautiful.

She hated her instantly.

Amelie sidled up to Solange, dodging the customers who milled about the counters. She pushed her dark curls off her face. “Grand, isn’t she? Look at the fur trim on her gown. It must have cost a fortune.”

“What’s that to me?” Solange scrunched her nose at Amelie and shrugged. She scrutinised the aristo’s outfit. To be that fashionable, it was definitely expensive. From her beaver bonnet with the ostrich plumes to her wool overcoat to the cashmere suit below it. An older woman with the same pointed chin and cupid’s bow mouth followed her in, her dress even more elaborately detailed. No doubt her mother. The shop wasn’t in a fashionable part of Paris so a pair of rich aristocrats discovering Madame Poulet’s was a bit of a mystery.

As if she had heard Solange’s thoughts, the girl turned to her mother with a restrained smile. “Maman, you see. I told you it was a milliner. Oh, it’s charming in here.” Her voice was light and almost breathy, as if she hesitated to speak aloud.

Her mother’s face remained placid, stuck in a polite mask. She nodded and gestured to Madame Poulet to approach. Solange’s shoulders tightened. How dare she treat Madame like a common errand girl? Her customer’s lapdog let out a series of high-pitched yaps. Solange winced at the noise. Or like a pet. She faced her waiting customer but could still see the aristocratic girl on the edge of her vision.

The aristo drifted towards a counter against the side of the room. Madame approached, her expression pleasant, not betraying any offence from the aristocrat’s behaviour. She greeted the aristocratic lady and her daughter, all smiles, her taffeta skirts rustling. “Bonjour, madame and mademoiselle. I am Madame Poulet. Welcome to my establishment. How may I assist you today?”

Solange rolled her eyes. Amelie stifled a giggle and backed into the workroom. Probably to share the news with Jeanne and Suzanne that a pair of actual aristocrats were in their shop. The fluffy lapdog in her customer’s arms yipped again, and Solange smiled an apology. The customer’s mouth spread flat into an unforgiving line. Solange picked up the order book and scribbled the customer’s instruction.

The young aristo flipped through the rainbow of fabric swatches in the sample book then trailing a gloved finger along the hats on display, wandered closer to Solange. She stopped to peer at a round hat that Solange had been particularly proud of and Solange caught a hint of her perfume, a light floral scent. She drew a deep breath. The scent suited the redhead.

The girl plucked the hat off the stand and turned it over, examining the interior. Solange’s fingers tightened around the pen she was using to write her customer’s order. What was she doing with that round hat? Examining it for flaws so she could warn her mother from purchasing a hat here? She’d find nothing wrong with her hat, Solange was certain.

I spent hours on that hat, every stitch and seam are perfect.

Her customer cleared her throat, obviously losing patience, and Solange faced her with a muttered apology. They flipped through the swatches together, examining the colours and textures of the fabric choices. Solange fought for concentration. She was never like this.

Someone bumped into her shoulder and she turned her head. The sight and sweet floral scent of the red haired aristo inches away filled her senses. Her body trembled and she let out a tiny gasp. The aristo’s pale cheeks lit up with a fierce blush and she stammered an apology before backing away.

Solange swallowed and murmured a non-committal response, struggling to regain her poise. The aristo moved away, not meeting Solange’s eyes, her cheeks pink. The hat still perched on her delicate fingers. Despite her awkwardness, she’d managed not to drop it.

The aristo turned towards Madame Poulet. “Madame Poulet, the workmanship on this round hat is exquisite. The stitching is almost invisible.” Her soft voice quavered. She sat down on the squeaky chair in front of a mirror and raised the hat to her head.

Madame Poulet stood behind her, her hands clasped to her ample bosom, beaming. “We do only superior work here, mademoiselle. I appreciate your eye for quality. Not many pay that close attention.”

Solange listened to her customer’s final requests with only part of her mind. The rest of her was trying to hear what Madame and the aristo were saying over the chattering of the other customers. The aristo knew a lot about hat making, that was obvious from the way she had traced a finger along the seams, lingering on the tightly attached feathers.

Solange shifted on her feet, unwilling to join the conversation but not wanting to go back to the work room yet. Watching the quiet excitement on the aristo’s face fascinated her.

Author Bio

BJ Sikes is a 5’6″ ape descendant who is inordinately fond of a good strong cup of tea, Doc Marten boots, and fancy dress. I live with one large cat, two sweet teenagers, and one editor-author, plus an array of chickens in a place very unlike my homeland. My favorite thing to write is historical fantasy with themes of a woman’s struggle for agency and queer characters living their lives.

After writing a dissertation on avocado root rot, I was drawn back to my first love, fiction. I have published several novels, novellas, and short stories in a variety of genres.

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