She sees the future.
He reads the past.
The present could kill them both.

Knowing how things will end before they even begin is a curse New Orleans tour guide Sydney Park has endured since she was a child. Her premonitions make surprises few and far between, and dating…

What's the point?

Reading the past in objects has caused more trouble for Blake Beaumont than he cares to admit. Opening the Museum of the Macabre is his last attempt at using his ability and his college degree to make a living.

But the artifacts he's acquired have haunting attachments that could put everyone's lives in danger.

When Blake joins forces with Sydney's tour company, he jumps at the chance to rekindle his relationship with her. She can’t help but fall for him all over again, until an ominous vision of a closed-casket funeral stops her cold.

Someone she loves is going to die.

If Sydney and Blake can't unravel the mystery, their haunted pasts will eclipse any chance of a future.

If you like strong heroines and haunting mystery, you'll love this spellbinding tale of romance in the Big Easy.

Recommended on SyFy.com

What Readers are Saying

"The amazing characters combined with an intriguing storyline and the sizzling smoking hot chemistry makes this a delicious hot read!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Bookbub Reviewer

"Be prepared for some chills, heart pounding suspense and a haunting mystery during this exhilarating romance." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Bookbub Reviewer

"I thought the first book was amazing...well, this one surpasses it! Love love love the character development and how they finally see their way together!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ~Amazon Reviewer

Excerpt

“What’s funny?” She followed him around the side and through the gate blocking the narrow alley that led to the courtyard in back.

He paused at the corner and turned to her. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

She grinned. “Does my implied bravery threaten your manhood? Would you rather I play the damsel in distress?” She tilted her head toward the sky, resting the back of her hand on her forehead, and thickened her Louisiana accent. “Help me, Mr. Beaumont. I heard a scary noise.”

He grabbed her ass and pulled her to him. “My manhood has never been in question, cher. You be as brave as you want.”

Her breath caught, her lips curving into a seductive smile as her gaze flowed down to his mouth. The fiery look in her eyes tempted him to pick her up and carry her back upstairs to the bedroom, but he didn’t get dressed and traipse out into the frigid night for nothing. They were investigating that staircase.

He released her and motioned toward the dark courtyard. “Ladies first.”

She hesitated. “Are there any lights out here?”

He flipped the switch mounted to the wall, flooding the courtyard in warm white light. A cobblestone walkway led to an old, broken fountain in the center of the yard. The stone statue had to be at least a hundred years old, and it featured an ornate cylindrical pillar with three pedestals surrounding it in layers. A platform sat empty at the top of the column, whatever figure had occupied it long since gone. A ring of bricks encircling the structure should have served as a reservoir for the falling water, but all it contained now was a layer of dried leaves.

Sydney made her way toward the back door, but her gaze trained on the fountain. “That’s beautiful. Do you ever turn it on?”

He stepped past her toward the door and turned the key in the lock. “It’s broken. I haven’t gotten around to fixing it.”

“You should. It’ll be nice to sit out here in the spring if you can get it flowing. Ready?”

“For spring?” He mentally moved having the fountain repaired to the top of his to-do list. Whatever this woman wanted, he would give it to her.

She laughed. “To see what kind of animal has gotten trapped in your building. My money is on raccoons.”

She moved to open the door, but he stepped inside first. His manhood might have needed a little defending around a tough-as-nails woman like her.

He fumbled his hands along the wall until he found the switch and flipped on the lights. Cold and slightly damp, the air in the corridor hung heavy and stale. He stilled, listening for sounds of phantom footsteps or tiny claws scurrying through walls. Sydney stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her. Silence engulfed them.

“A rodent would have tucked tail and run to its hidey hole the moment the lights flicked on.” Her chest brushed against his arm as she squeezed past him and ascended the stairs. “Keep an eye out for droppings.”

“Droppings.” How the hell did he go from making love to the sexiest woman on the planet to searching a staircase for animal shit?

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