The Downfall of a Good Girl. Kimberly LangЧитать онлайн книгу.

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      This is my tenth book—a milestone that I couldn’t have hit without the continued love and support of my family: Darling Geek, Amazing Child and Wonder Mom. Y’all are the best.

      But I want to extend a huge thanks to the talented and delightful Cristina Lynn, who literally put a song on Connor’s lips by allowing me to use her lyrics in this book. You can hear those songs—and a new one called ‘Sinners and Saints’, inspired by Connor and Vivi’s story!—by visiting her website at: www.CristinaLynn.com

      CHAPTER ONE

      VIVIENNE LABLANC waited impatiently, trying not to bump her wings against anything or move too quickly in a way that would cause her halo to slide off, as Max Hale gave his introductory speech on the other side of the curtain.

      “There are many krewes, but none like the Bon Argent. Five years ago, we decided to do something—in our own hometown style—to raise money for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. We were far more successful than we dreamed. Through the Saints and Sinners Festival—which grows bigger every year—we’ve raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for dozens of local charities, and I thank all of you for your continued support.”

      After a short round of polite applause, Max continued to laud their accomplishments, but Vivi listened with only half an ear. She was well aware of the great work of Bon Argent; she’d been involved with the krewe since its inception. Candy Hale was one of her oldest friends, and Max was like a second father. Her mother used to serve on the board, for goodness’ sake, so she didn’t need to be sold on the success. She did, however, need a primer on these wings.

      How am I supposed to sit in these things? The feathered and bejeweled wings were beautiful, arching up to head height and hanging to her calves. Vivi frowned as she tried to adjust the buckle on her gold sandals and felt the whole getup shift dangerously. Honestly, she looked less like a saint and more like a Vegas showgirl who’d crashed the neighborhood nativity play.

      The Saints and Sinners ball—and the whole Bon Argent krewe—bordered on silly at times, but the costumes and the parody of pomp and pageantry was what had made the Saints and Sinners fundraiser so fun, popular and immensely successful in such a short time.

      And there were three hundred people out there eagerly awaiting the announcement of this year’s Saint and Sinner. Following the traditions of the traditional Mardi Gras krewes, those identities were top secret info. As far as Vivi knew, only three people were in the know this year. Max, the head of the Bon Argent charity, Paula, the head of PR, and Ms. Rene, the seamstress who’d made the costumes for the Sinner and the Saint. Even she didn’t know who would be her other half between now and Fat Tuesday.

      She had a few guesses in mind.

      Unlike the traditional krewes, however, who would crown a king and a queen, Bon Argent had no gender requirements to fulfill. The Saint and the Sinner were chosen for their local celebrity and reputations and could be of the same gender. Vivi had her bets on nightclub owner Marianne Foster, who’d been in the news a lot recently and would provide excellent competition before Vivi crushed her. While Marianne would be popular in the voting and bring in large amounts of money, it wasn’t an overstatement or egoism to say that she, herself, was more popular and could raise huge amounts of money in comparison.

      She stomped down the unkind thought. Thoughts were the precursors to words and actions, and she’d learned to keep her head in the right place in order to avoid saying or doing anything she might regret later. It’s about the money we can raise, not about winning.

      But it was also about winning. The Sinner had taken the crown the last two years, but this year top honors were going to the Saint, because she simply refused to lose. She’d only lost one crown in her life, and she still remembered the bitter taste of watching Miss Indiana walk away with it. It didn’t matter how much she liked Janelle personally, or what a great Miss America she’d turned out to be, it still sucked to lose.

      So she was competitive. It was hardly a personality flaw. No one liked to lose. And in this case, her competitive nature would be beneficial because it was all for a good cause.

      Max was now introducing her Cherubim Court: ten local high school kids chosen by the charity’s board to be her team in the fundraising.

      And now it was her turn. She took a deep breath, checked her dress, and waited.

      “…my pleasure to introduce Saint Vivienne LaBlanc!”

      The curtain opened to a strobe of flashes from the photographers gathered in front of the stage and a very heartening roar of approval and applause from the guests. Vivi heard her sister’s distinctive whistle and looked over at the table where her family sat. When she’d left the table twenty minutes ago, claiming she had an