She refuses to believe in ghosts.
He makes a living on their existence.
Love in the Big Easy shouldn't be so hardâŚ
Trying to add some excitement to her life, Emily Rollins accepts a dare to kiss a masked stranger at a charity ball. Fireworks ignite with that simple kiss, and she longs to learn more about the enchanting man. But Emily has lost so much of her heart alreadyâŚ
Succumbing to his charm will turn her world inside out.
Sean LeBlanc is a medium who runs the most popular haunted tour company in New Orleans. When Emily shows up on his ghost tour, with no idea heâs the mystery man from the ball, the long-buried emotions she unearthed in him are rekindled, and heâs convinced he can learn to love again.
The problem is Emily doesn't believe in the supernatural.
Just as Sean begins to open her mind to the existence of spirits and the possibility of love, a mysterious wooden box with a sinister power arrives on Emily's doorstep, threatening her sanity and her life.
If Sean can't convince her ghosts are real, her disbelief will doom them both.
She refuses to believe in ghosts.
He makes a living on their existence.
Love in the Big Easy shouldn't be so hardâŚ
Trying to add some excitement to her life, Emily Rollins accepts a dare to kiss a masked stranger at a charity ball. Fireworks ignite with that simple kiss, and she longs to learn more about the enchanting man. But Emily has lost so much of her heart alreadyâŚ
Succumbing to his charm will turn her world inside out.
Sean LeBlanc is a medium who runs the most popular haunted tour company in New Orleans. When Emily shows up on his ghost tour, with no idea heâs the mystery man from the ball, the long-buried emotions she unearthed in him are rekindled, and heâs convinced he can learn to love again.
The problem is Emily doesn't believe in the supernatural.
Just as Sean begins to open her mind to the existence of spirits and the possibility of love, a mysterious wooden box with a sinister power arrives on Emily's doorstep, threatening her sanity and her life.
If Sean can't convince her ghosts are real, her disbelief will doom them both.
âWhat about a one-night stand? Or a series of them?â Trish asked.
Emily Rollins cast a sideways glance at her friend. âI think I need to swear off men altogether.â She gathered her billowing crimson skirt in her hands and climbed the stairs toward the hotel entrance, placing each step with precision. Practicality wasnât on the list of requirements when she selected her costume for the Masked Movie Character Ball, and the last thing she needed was to trip on a layer of satin and tulle and tumble down before she even got inside.
Trish adjusted her mask. âYou canât punish yourself forever, Em. You promised youâd try to have fun tonight.â
She sighed and peered out over Canal Street, the dividing line separating the French Quarter from the rest of New Orleans. An October breeze raised goose bumps on her arms, and she shivered as she turned and drifted up the stairs.
 âIâm not punishing myself. Iâm justâŚâ She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. âIt doesnât feel right to have fun so soon.â
As they stepped inside the Maison Des Fleurs, soft classical music replaced the roar of outside traffic, and green carpet squished beneath her stilettos.
Trish touched her elbow. âItâs been more than a year. Itâs time to move on.â
âI know.â She drew her shoulders toward her ears and wrapped her arms around her middle. âBut after Jessica diedâŚâ
âWell, tonight youâre the Queen of Hearts, darling, and youâre smoldering. Every hot-blooded man whoâs passed through this lobby has checked you out.â
Emily rolled her eyes, but her friendâs abrupt change in subject did help loosen the vise-grip squeezing her chest. Now the damn corset was the only thing keeping her from breathing properly. âTrishâŚâ
âSeriously. At least ten different men have given you a once-over in the five minutes weâve been standing here.â
She laughed. No one was checking her out, and sheâd prove it. She whirled around to face the room, daring someone to look at her. A Captain Jack Sparrow look-alike wearing a simple black eye mask bowed formally, wiping the smug smile right off her face.
Trish nodded. âLook, babe. All Iâm saying is youâre new in town. Itâs a masquerade, so the whole point is mystery. You can be anybody you want to be tonight, and no one will know the difference. Let me teach you how to have fun for a change.â
She crossed her arms. âI know how to have fun.â
âSure, if you like wet blankets and cold showers. Come on.â Trish linked arms with Emily and dragged her toward the ballroom.
Emily stopped outside the door and yanked her arm free. Her friendâs teasing words stung. Sheâd come to New Orleans for a fresh startâto get away from the guilt that had been chewing her to bits and spitting out the piecesâand she had moved on, hadnât she? Sheâd done plenty of new things.
An indoor skydiving place opened near her apartment a month ago, but she hadnât worked up the nerve to check their prices. Iconic street cars chugged along the tracks every ten minutes in front of the urgent care clinic where she worked, but sheâd never hopped on one. Hell, the only reason sheâd been to Bourbon Street was because Trish dragged her there. Aside from her occasional walks through Jackson Square, she hadnât explored the city she now called home. Her throat tightened. Maybe she hadnât moved on at all.
 âAll right. If Iâm a wet blanket, what do you suggest? Should I make out with the first guy I see? Dance on the tables?â
âJust let loose. Relax. Maybe hook up with a bad boy for once in your life. Thatâs what you need. A sexy New Orleans man to show you the city, get your mind off things.â
âIâve dated bad boys before.â
Trish laughed and pulled her away from the door as a couple dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo stepped past them. âWho? Phillip?â
âHe rode a motorcycle once.â
âHeâs an actuary, Em. You canât get any more boring than that.â
She chewed the inside of her cheek. âHe cheated on me. That makes him bad.â
Her friend wrapped her arm around her shoulders. âThatâs the wrong kind of bad, babe. And anyway, that jackass cheating on you turned out to be for the best. If he canât stick by you through the tough times, good riddance.â
âIt was quite a wakeup call, wasnât it?â
âAnd now youâre here with me, learning to live the life Jessica would have wanted for you.â
 She chuckled. âFrom the authority on having fun.â
âYou got that right.â She led her through the double doors into the ballroom.
Emily gasped. Thirty-foot ceilings soared above with two massive chandeliers dripping with crystals, hanging side by side in the center of the room. A polished wood dance floor took up most of the space, and a band on a raised platform belted out a smooth rendition of Frank Sinatraâs âFly Me to the Moon.â A generous buffet complete with shrimp cocktail, boudin, and oysters on the half shell sat against the wall, and an open bar stood catty-corner to the food. Hundreds of masked people in elaborate costumes representing characters from all genres of movies milled about the ballroom, mingling, dancing, laughingâŚhaving fun.
âDrinks first.â Trish led the way to the bar.
Maybe her friend was right. Maybe she did need to let loose tonight. It had been a year since her sisterâs death. That fresh start needed to begin sometime; sheâd been stagnant long enough.
If a masquerade ball wasnât the perfect opportunity to elicit change, what was?
Trish handed her a gin and tonic. âSo, whatâs the plan?â
Emily grinned. âDare me.â
âWhat?â
âLike when we were kids. Dare me to do something outrageous, and Iâll do it.â
Trish sipped her gin fizz. âSeriously? I know you canât see my eyebrows through this mask, but I am arching one in disbelief.â
Her pulse quickened, and she swallowed before the lump could form in her throat. âYes. I mean it. I promised Iâd have fun, and youâre going to teach me how.â
Her friend slammed her hand on the bar. âTwo shots of tequila, please.â The bartender poured the drinks, and Trish handed Emily the tiny glass. âAll right. I dare you to kiss a stranger.â
âThatâs it? Just kiss someone?â
âNot just kiss. One: it has to be on a manâs mouth. And two: there has to be tongue.â
She chewed her bottom lip and stared at the liquid courage in the glass. A kiss. She could do that, couldnât she? Taking a deep breath, she tossed back the shot and set the glass on the bar. The tequila burned as it made its way down her throat and into her stomach. âKiss a man, with tongue. Done.â
Trish downed her shot and grinned. âAnd you are not, under any circumstances, to give him your number.â
âWhy not?â
âI donât want you getting all goo-goo-eyed over the first guy you meet. This city is a living, breathing entity, and it has to be experienced fully before you settle down. Get your fill of fun before you do anything else.â
âYes, maâam.â Emily gave her a mock salute and ordered another gin and tonic. She was going to need it.
***
âAnother beautiful party, Momma. Well done.â Sean LeBlanc kissed Madeline on the cheek and tousled the purple feathers adorning her sequined mask. Her floor-length black dress curled up in eight places on the hemâUrsula the Sea Witchâs tentacles. And every time he took a step, he nearly tripped on one and busted his ass on the dance floor. All those years of dance lessons as a kid hadnât prepared him for waltzing with an octopus.
âThank you. I do know how to throw a party, donât I?â Her satisfied gaze swept the room before landing on him.
âYou always have.â He twirled his mom across the dance floor, carefully avoiding her tentacles and hoping to evade the question he could tell sheâd been biting back all evening. At least she was making an effort tonight.
âTell me, Son. There are so many beautiful women here, but the only one youâve danced with is your mother. Why?â
And there went her self-restraint. He faked a smile. âI donât know. I guess Iâm not in the mood to deal with a woman tonight.â
âWhen will you be?â
Grinding his teeth, he tried to quell his irritation and come up with an answer that would appease her. âI date every now and then, Momma. Nothing to worry about.â
âFirst dates donât count. Unless youâve had a second date I donât know about?â
âYou know I havenât.â He sighed. âI know what love feels like, and Iâm not going to waste my time on someone it could never happen with.â If it could ever happen again.
She narrowed her eyes. âHave you heard from Courtney lately?â
He stifled a groan. She knew the answer to that too. âItâs been almost two years since her spirit made contact. I donât want to talk about this.â
âSweetheart, sheâs been dead for three. Even her ghost has moved on. Donât you think itâs time you did too? She would want you to be happy.â
He pressed his hand into her back and eased her into a fast spin. âIâm dancing with the most beautiful woman at the ball. I am happy.â
She playfully swatted him on the shoulder. âYour charm wonât work on me, young man. I taught you everything you know.â
The song ended, and he led her to the bar. Madeline wouldnât be happy until he was married with a kid or two, and heâd get there eventually. Maybe. But he wasnât going to force it. If he ever found the right woman, heâd know. Why would he waste his time with anyone else?
His mom had done nothing but worry about him since the day his wife died. Hell, heâd worried about himself for a while, but he really was ready to move onâŚif the right woman came along. Thatâs what he told himself anyway.
Still, he had to do something to get her off his back tonight, or sheâd be throwing women at him every time he turned around. âIâll make you a deal. Iâll dance with the first person who recognizes my costume.â
âHasnât anyone gotten it right yet?â
âItâs a classic eighties movie. Someone will recognize it.â He picked up a Scotch on the rocks and took a sip.
His mom grinned. âIt would be more convincing if you had a Buttercup.â
âMaybe Iâll find her tonight.â
âI hope you do.â Mint julep in hand, she patted his cheek and sashayed into the crowd to mingle.
The chances were slim. Heâd been called Zorro seven times already, and he certainly couldnât see himself dating a woman who didnât recognize the main character of one of his favorite movies. His mother was right though. Courtney had only come back to console him the first year after her death. He hadnât heard from her since, so she had obviously moved on. It was time he did too.
âMr. Sean.â A tiny cold hand tugged on his.
He smiled at the little girl, and her blonde ringlets bounced as she giggled and pointed to a large, framed sketch hanging on the wall.
âThatâs me.â She vanished and reappeared next to her brother across the room. Sean and his team had investigated this building many times. He knew all the ghosts that resided here, and most of them were friendly. The portrait of the children was his donation to the charity. This ball and every event his mom planned this year benefited the local animal shelters. A hotel the size of this one would pay thousands for a sketch of the spirits that haunted it, and he was more than happy to donate the proceeds to a good cause.
He still hadnât figured out how or when the siblings died; they didnât do much more than play and giggle. Her name was Alice; her brother was Jonathan, and that was the most theyâd been willingâor ableâto share so far. That theyâd shown themselves to him tonight was a good sign, though. Heâd have to get his team back for another investigation.
But now, he had a promise to keep. He scanned the crowd, searching for friendly faces. No need to waste his time on a woman who couldnât have fun at a party like this. If the food and free-flowing alcohol werenât enough, the band was on fire. But all these damn masks made it hard to see peopleâs eyes. Heâd have to go for smiles.
A blonde and a redhead sat at a high table near the dance floor. The Red Queen and the White Queen from Alice in Wonderland. Nice choice. Red laughed heartily at something the blonde said. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that lit up her whole face. She was definitely having a good time.
He ambled closer to their table to get a better look, and damn, did he like what he saw. Fiery red hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Her creamy breasts nearly spilled out the top of her tight-laced corset, and her shiny red high heels peeked out from beneath a flowing skirt that unfortunately blocked his view of her legs. Something about all that red had him burning inside.
The Lone Ranger escorted the White Queen to the dance floor, and Redâs smile didnât fade. She sipped on a clear drink and swirled the ice in the glass. His pulse quickened.
Maybe he was in the mood to deal with a woman tonight after all.
***
Emily laughed as the Lone Ranger dipped Trish on the dance floor and nearly dropped her on her head. The bartender wasnât stingy with the alcohol, and after the shot of tequila and her second gin and tonic, her head spun in a delightful way. She pushed the glass away. Any more, and it might affect her judgment. She was on a mission. But not just any guy would do. If she was going to kiss a stranger tonight, she wanted to feel something.
Passion. Her life had been devoid of that emotion for nearly a year. Of course, she was mostly to blame for the downward spiral her last relationship had fallen into, but she could change. Trish only asked for a kiss. Emily would one-up her friend and make sure the kiss made her burn.
She scanned the ballroom. Plenty of men appeared attractive, but the costumes and masks made it hard to be sure. Captain Jack Sparrow looked cute, and sheâd always had a thing for pirates. But heâd blackened his teeth to go with the costume, and the thought of kissing that made her skin crawl. A wolf-man character looked big and muscly, but she couldnât tell if the blanket of hair peeking out of his shirt was real or part of the costume. This was going to be harder than she thought.
She picked up her drink and downed the contents as a man in all black approached her. He wore knee-high boots and black pants that hugged his muscular thighs. His Renaissance-style shirt revealed a smooth, sinewy chest, and a long sword sat sheathed at his hip.
So far, so good.
A black cloth wrapped around his dark eyes acted as a mask, and another cloth covered his head, concealing his hair. Her gaze traveled up and down his body, and when she met his eyes, he smiled.
Her pulse quickened. She could definitely burn for this guy.
He sauntered toward her with a cocky gaitâcompletely in characterâand his playful grin and full, kissable lips sent her stomach flipping.
âWhatâs the Queen of Hearts doing all alone at a party like this?â
Emily sat up straighter. âI could ask the same question of you, Dread Pirate Roberts. Where is your Buttercup?â
âIâm currently interviewing for the position. Would you like to apply?â His devilish grin widened; her heart pounded harder.
âAnd how many applicants would I be competing with? It must be a coveted position.â
He chuckled. âSo far tonight, maâam, youâre the only candidate.â He cleared his throat and whisked her glass from the table. âYour drink is empty, and thatâs a shame. Let me get you another one.â He examined what was left of the contents. âGin and tonic?â
âYes, but...â
âIâll be right back.â
He strode to the bar, and she got a view of his backside as he moved. Nice. Everything about the man was scrumptious. She inhaled a deep breath to calm the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. What on earth was she thinking agreeing to a dare like this? She didnât go around kissing strangers.
âOne gin and tonic for the beautiful queen.â He slipped into the chair next to her and set the drink on the table.
âThank you.â She could do this. It was just a kiss, and he was just a man. An incredibly sexy pirate tonight.
He leaned an elbow on the table. âYou know, youâre the first person whoâs gotten my costume right.â
âReally? The Princess Bride is a classic. I canât believe people donât recognize you.â
âI know. Itâs one of my favorites.â
âAnd you look so authentic. Youâve got the mustache and everything. Is it real?â
He smoothed the thin strip of hair above his lip. âOf course. But everyone thinks Iâmââ
âZorro?â
âNailed it. By the way, my name isââ
âWestley.â She stirred her drink and swallowed before raising her gaze to his. âYour name is Westley tonight.â
âOh, weâre being mysterious?â
She shrugged. It was better if she didnât know his name. Trish was right: she didnât need to attach herself to the first man she met. And this guy was way too magnetic.
He smiled. âI get it. Itâs a masquerade. We can reveal our identities at the stroke of midnight.â
She tilted her head. If she was still talking to him at midnight, sheâd be in trouble.
âOkay. Westley, it is. Can I call you Buttercup?â
Covering the tip of the straw with her finger, she brought the other end to her lips and released the contents into her mouth. âIâll let you know.â
He laughed and downed the rest of his drink. âI promised our hostess I would dance with the first woman who didnât call me Zorro.â Standing, he offered her his hand. âWould you care to join me on the dance floor, my queen?â
âI would be delighted.â She took his hand and let him lead her to the center of the floor. The band played Billy Joelâs âJust the Way You Are,â and Westley pulled her close. Though their bodies didnât touch, an inexplicable magnetism held her. His masculine scent, the warmth radiating from his skinâshe couldnât have pulled away if sheâd wanted to.
One hand on her hip, his left hand cradling her right, he led her around the floor with the grace of a professional. His strong arms guided her into moves she didnât know she had in her dance repertoire. He spun her, releasing his hold to twirl her under his arm and pull her back into a firm embrace.
She gazed into his eyes, unable to quell the butterflies flitting their way into her chest. âWow. Youâre an amazing dancer.â
His cocky grin returned as he twirled her. âAll those years of cotillion finally paid off.â
âWhatâs cotillion?â
 âDance and etiquette classes my mom forced me to take as a kid. I hated every second of it.â
âAnd now?â
âNo regrets at all.â He gave her one final spin and dipped her so low, her head nearly touched the ground. As he brought her back up, she stumbled into him, and he caught her in his arms. âYou okay?â
âYeah. I think itâs the alcohol. Iâm not usually this clumsy.â
His gaze lingered on hers, and though she was steady on her feet, he still held her close. The feel of his firm body pressed to hers sent warmth flooding through her limbs, and as he started to let her go, she held on tighter.
âI love this song. Can we dance again?â
A slow smile curved his lips. âAs you wish.â He kissed the fingers of her right hand then traced his thumb across the tiny butterfly adorning the inside of her wrist. âThatâs a nice tattoo. What does it mean?â
Instinctively, she wanted to jerk her hand away, but she forced herself to hold contact. âIt means I like butterflies.â
âI like them too.â
Her heart fluttered as he slid his hands to the small of her back and held her with firm yet gentle pressure. Cheek to cheek, she clutched his shoulders and tried to slow her breathing. His woodsy scent filled her senses, making her head spin, and as the slow, sultry music played on, she melted into his embrace.
She lost track of how many songs ended, how many new ones began as they held each other on the dance floor, softly swaying to the rhythm. She couldâve held on to this mysterious man all night. His strong arms. His intoxicating scent. The way his breath tickled her ear when he turned toward her.
He slid his hands up and down her back, his gentle touch raising goose bumps on her arms. His heart pounded against her breast as she glided her hands across his shoulders to cup the back of his neck. It was time. She was going to kiss him.
Her cheek brushed against his masculine stubble as she pulled away to look in his dark brown eyes. He inhaled deeply, dropping his gaze to her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in. Something vibrated against her hip, and she opened her eyes. His gaze lingered on her lips.
âWestley?â
âHmm?â
âYour pants are vibrating.â
He chuckled. âThey can leave a message.â
âIt might be important.â
He pressed his forehead to hers and slid his hand up her neck, into her hair. âNothing is as important as dancing with the most beautiful Queen of Hearts I have ever seen.â
Heat flushed her cheeks. âIâm sure you say that to all the ladies.â
âI can assure you I donât.â He twirled her around the dance floor and stopped close to the edge.
Emily wasnât the type to swoon, but something about Westley made her knees weak. âYou really are a fantastic dancer.â
âItâs all part of my diabolical plan.â
âYour plan?â
He smiled. âTo keep you here until midnight, when the masks come off, and the identity of the most beautiful woman in New Orleans is revealed.â
Her heart slammed into her throat. She wanted to know this man. More than his identity, she wanted to know him. But she couldnât. Trish was right. She shouldnât latch on to the first hot guy she met.
She needed to kiss him and walk away.
His phone vibrated in his pocket again, and he let out a disappointed grunt.
âYou should answer that. Itâs probably important if theyâre calling again.â She released her hold on his shoulders, but he tightened his grip around her waist.
âYouâre not getting away so easily.â He fished the phone out of his pocket. Checking the screen, he sighed and pressed the device to his ear. âThis had better be important, Jason.â
He closed his eyes and listened. âYou have got to be kidding me. Did you call Syd?â He stroked his fingers down her cheek and mouthed the word sorry. âHow many over are we? Twenty-five? No, Iâll be there in fifteen⌠Yeah. On my way.â
He mashed the screen with his thumb to end the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a tight embrace and pressed his lips to her ear. âI have to go.â
She fought the shiver running down her spine. âI figured as much.â
âCan I see you again?â
She bit her lip to keep from saying yes. âTonight, for me, was about learning to live again. To enjoy life, and Iâve enjoyed every second Iâve spent with you. But this is all Iâm able to give right now.â
He pulled back, disappointment evident in his eyes. âHow about this? Iâll give you my number, and if you ever decide you have a little more to giveâand Iâm not asking for muchâŚjust a little of your timeâthen you can call me.â
The temptation overwhelmed her. She couldnât form an appropriate answer, so she did the only thing she could.
She crushed her mouth to his.
A deep groan rumbled in his throat as he parted his soft lips to let her in. He tasted sweet, like honey laced with warm whiskey, and when his tongue brushed against hers, fire shot through her veins. He tightened his arms around her, and she allowed herself to get lost in his embrace. They were the only two people in the world, and being in his arms was all that mattered. The kiss slowed to a gentle brush of the lips, and she had to get away before she gave in.
She took a step back and rested her hand on his cheek. âThank you, Westley, for a lovely evening I will never forget.â
His gaze was heavy and filled with longing. âCan I at least know your name?â
âMy name isâŚâ She shouldnât. The moment with Westley was ending, and sharing names would only quell the mystery. She stepped toward him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
âCall me Buttercup.â
He chuckled and lowered his chest into a formal bow, his heated gaze never straying from her eyes. âAs you wish.â He lingered for a moment as if hoping sheâd change her mind.
âGoodbye, Westley.â
âFarewell, Buttercup.â He nodded and walked away.
I'm a sucker for all things New Orleans, and this romance did not disappoint. An everyday heroine, new to the city, and a princely son of old wealth connecting over a love of The Princess Bride movie, make for a deeply romantic pair. Secondary characters, both living and ghostly, liven up our main characters' lives and stories, and add to the ride, although the author does miss an opportunity to reflect some of the city's rich diversity, sticking with an all-white cast.
Emily is a vocal disbeliever in all things paranormal, preferring the rational and logical above all else. The reader soon learns that Emily's disbelief is of the "protesting too much" variety when she pours a salt ring around her bed, a nightly ritual to prevent nightmares. From there the plot revolves around Sean needing to break down Emily's defenses so that she can accept that he knows that spirits are real.
Sean has seen ghosts all his life and has learned how to keep their contact on his terms, and to prevent them from becoming intrusive. He's a talented artist who often chooses ghosts as his portrait subjects, and owns a Ghost Tour company in New Orleans. Although wealthy, Sean is not the typical alpha billionaire hero; he works for a living, plays laser tag with his staff, and comes across as a gentle, romantic guy.
The story takes us through Sean and Emily's first few encounters and dates, and does a nice job of developing their attraction and relationship. The real plot comes from how they both interact with the paranormal elements, and how that affects their feelings for each other. The world-building here is simple and understated: ghosts exist. Sean and Emily both know that, but Sean embraces it while Emily is terrified of the power she has seen them wield. Readers who enjoy a classic grovel scene get that from Emily in this book, a reversal from the usual gender roles.
The prose is smooth, the pacing hits all the beats, the characters lively and their chemistry sparkles. In the end, this is a sweet, satisfying romance with just enough ghostly spookiness to have you sighing and saying, "As you wish."