What Readers are Saying:

"Love & Ghosts is a fantastic book! It’s full of exciting mystery, hot romance, ghosts, drama, uncertainty, heartache, fear, hope and love that really makes this one heart melting truly delightful read! ... It’s definitely one of the best books I’ve read all year!" ~Goodreads Reviewer

"There's tons of action, humor, creepies, drama and sexy ghost hunters. With the wonderful flavor of New Orleans French Quarter, Carrie Pulkinen once again proves that her addictive writing and world building brings you front and center to the quaint and intriguing lure of the ghost tour." ~Goodreads Reviewer

"Sean is one of those male characters that you really just want for yourself. He’s honest, forthright, sexy and when he falls for someone that’s it for him. He gives his whole heart." ~Goodreads Reviewer

 

Excerpt:

Emily laughed as the Lone Ranger dipped Trish on the dance floor and nearly dropped her on her head. The bartender wasn’t 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 feelsomething.

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 she’d always had a thing for pirates. But he’d 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 couldn’t 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 gait—completely in character—and his playful grin and full, kissable lips sent her stomach flipping.

“What’s the Queen of Hearts doing all alone at a party like this?”

Emily sat up straighter. “I could ask the same question of you, Dread Pirate Roberts. Where is your Buttercup?”

“I’m currently interviewing for the position. Would you like to apply?” His devilish grin widened; her heart pounded harder.

“And how many applicants would I be competing with? It must be a coveted position.”

He chuckled. “So far tonight, ma’am, you’re the only candidate.” He cleared his throat and whisked her glass from the table. “Your drink is empty, and that’s a shame. Let me get you another one.” He examined what was left of the contents. “Gin and tonic?”

“Yes, but...”

“I’ll be right back.”

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 didn’t go around kissing strangers.

“One gin and tonic for the beautiful queen.” He slipped into the chair next to her and set the drink on the table.

“Thank you.” 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. “You know, you’re the first person who’s gotten my costume right.”

“Really? The Princess Bride is a classic. I can’t believe people don’t recognize you.”

“I know. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And you look so authentic. You’ve got the mustache and everything. Is it real?”

He smoothed the thin strip of hair above his lip. “Of course. But everyone thinks I’m—”

“Zorro?”

“Nailed it. By the way, my name is—”

“Westley.” She stirred her drink and swallowed before raising her gaze to his. “Your name is Westley tonight.”

“Oh, we’re being mysterious?”

She shrugged. It was better if she didn’t know his name. Trish was right: she didn’t need to attach herself to the first man she met. And this guy was way too magnetic.

He smiled. “I get it. It’s a masquerade. We can reveal our identities at the stroke of midnight.”

She tilted her head. If she was still talking to him at midnight, she’d be in trouble.

“Okay. Westley, it is. Can I call you Buttercup?”

Covering the tip of the straw with her finger, she brought the other end to her lips and released the contents into her mouth. “I’ll let you know.”