Some Ghosts Are Friendly; Some Mean! Meet Them in The Ghosts of Rue Dumaine by Alexandrea Weis! A Halloween Treat!

"Pat shook her head. "That's the French Quarter, darlin'. Never a dull
 moment."
"As Pat began to go through the selection of keys on her chain, searching for the one that opened the gate, Danica took in the surrounding street.
"Directly across from the cottage was the famed Madame John's Legacy. Built in 1788, the older French Colonial style mansion was a reflection of the architectural traditions of those who had learned to adapt to the semitropical Louisiana climate. The exterior had been heavily stuccoed to keep the home insulated, while a shady, green wooden balcony ran along the second story to allow cooling breezes to flow through the living quarters during the hot summer months.

"To the left, a traditional three-story Creole Townhouse made of stucco and red brick boasted classic New Orleans decorative black wrought iron balconies on its

second and third floors.

"Nothing has changed," Danica softly said.
"Since Katrina nothing has been the same. So many people left. I couldn't keep track of the properties we had listed down here. I've never seen so much stuff going up for sale or for rent in the Quarter, and I've lived here most of my life. After that, the taxes, utilities, and insurance went sky high. What the storm didn't drive away, the city government did. Took me damn near a year to get a permit to redo my house in Lakeview, and even then the cooper wiring got stolen from the place twice, along with anything else that wasn't nailed down."
"...After a swift kick of Pat's black high-heeled shoe, the gate slowly opened with a resistant groan. "What Katrina did to New Orleans was a lot worse than any TV camera could ever capture. I'll never forget the smell after the storm. Damned stench hung over the city for almost a year. Those reporters never talked about that. I still get panic attcks when the lights go out. I spent ten grant on a generator for my house so I would never be without power again. She stepped through the open gate. I guess we all have some scars after that debacle, but life goes on..."

~~~

The Ghosts of Rue Demaine

By Alexandrea Weis

It happened on Halloween night... Did you know that could happen? I didn't... Of course, it came with a cost... Somebody died...

Danica Giles had come home. Mainly to get away from her abusive ex-husband--she had finally been brave enough to divorce him. But now she was seeking safety, a need to be home. Coming back to The French Quarter was a no-brainer and she had even been lucky enough to find "the unassuming Creole cottage" where she had once lived. It was a single floor building with yellow stucco and green shutters. Even though there had been ten different families living in the cottage since they had left, she was still...hoping...

"Danica felt her heart rise into her throat. They
saw him, too!
"Pat turned to her. "You saw the same man?"
"Danica rubbed her hands nervously together.
Every night after I went to bed. I would see a man
standing in the doorway of my room. He was a tall
black shadow and sometimes I could see his features
sometimes I couldn't; but he was never mean or
scary. I always got the impression he was standing
guard over me."
"The tenants I talked to had a different experience
completely." Pat stepped inside the cottage doorway.
I personally believe half the people old man Caruso
rented to were pretty much out of their minds to
begin with, so I never paid too much attention to
their ramblings. I don't give much credence to ghost
stories..."
~~~

As Pat was showing her around her old home which was fortunately not rented at this time, indicating that Carl Wethers lived in the carriage house and looked scary but was very friendly, Danica learned something new about the place...

Where a pool had been, it was now gone. They had discovered during renovations that there were graves under the pool! A woman and three children. At that time, they just built the pool...Now they were required to tell potential renters due to new disclosure requirements.

Danica realized the significance immediately. In passing she was willing to admit to Pat that when she was small, she had thought she had seen ghosts... But it was probably her imagination...

Pat acknowledged that this was another disclosure she was forced to share--many other people had indicated that there were ghosts in a number of the cottages... Many described a tall man with dark, angry eyes who would wake them up every night, standing at the foot of their bed!

Some of you may remember a movie that was first made in 1947, The Ghost of Mrs. Muir, and others will better remember the remake with Hope Lange and her handsome ghost...

So, if you enjoyed that movie, I think this is a must-read for you... One of the differences Weis presents is that the female star knows the ghost as a child. She felt he was watching her, keeping her safe. So, now she needed somebody after her abusive husband was out of her life. She had been strong enough to leave him, but now the trauma was setting in...

And he was there for her...

"I missed this old place," she whispered.

"A sudden rush of cold air moving down the hallway caused Danica to turn away from the bedroom door and peer into the darkness behind her. She took a few steps further down the hall until the aroma of cigar smoke mixed with a hint of brandy wafted in the air around her. Danica remembered that smell. It had always filled her bedroom whenever the dark man would appear.

"Is it you?" she softly called into the hallway. "It's me, Danica. I've come back. Just like I said I would.

"Danica walked brisky past the entrance to the master bath to the final door at the end of the hall. Without hesitation, she pushed the cypress door open and walked inside the master bedroom. The light from the large picture window overlooking the courtyard shone into the room, accentuating the deep burgundy color of the carpet beneath her feet. She stepped into the center of the room and observed the ceiling fan above. Danica waited, straining with every breath to hear the slightest stirring.

"Welcome home," a man's wispy voice resonated around her.

"A hopeful smile curled the edges of Danica's heart-shaped mouth. "Thank you Gaston. It's good to be home."

~~~

Just so you don't think this is purely romance...I must warn you that there are two deaths coming, one of which will be out to hurt Danica! Female Ghost? Now that's a vision I had to share with you! 

"Yeah, we didn't get much sleep," he
admitted as his arms fell across her
sides... He went to her front doors and
then mumbled, "My mind must be
playing tricks on me."
"What tricks?
"I could have sworn for a moment I
smelled...." He shook his head. You're
right. We're book pretty beat."...
~~~

And with New Orleans, you'll nearly always have a voodoo woman involved somehow. Fortunately, she has seen what Danica is involved with and offers guidance. Good thing! Because later the suspense gets scary when a ghost turns mean and nasty!

So, what happened on Halloween? That's called a tease... If it got your attention, this just might be a must-read for you... But remember, there's a death involved! Is it Danica? Or did she choose the new man in her life? This novel combines the love between a human and ghost as did The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, but it just takes off from there into a scary tale that you probably should not read at night... Unless you love ghost stories, like I do...! Check this one out and Enjoy!

GABixlerReviews

Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews. Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for Best Romantic Suspense from the 2011 Readers' Favorite Book Awards, and was named Best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards. Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won Best Contemporary Romance at the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, and the Silver Medal at the 2012 ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards for Contemporary Romance. Diary of a One-Night Stand, was released in August 2012 and was named a Paranormal Romance Guild's Best Reviewed of 2012. Acadian Waltz was a finalist in the 2013 Readers' Favorite Book Awards for Best Contemporary Romance and Best Southern Fiction. A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

website: http://alexandreaweis.com

Alexandrea Weis Pens Horror, The Satyr's Curse, Sure to Become a Classic... A Halloween Treat!

"Jazzmyn dropped her eyes to their joined hands. "If you could go back to the past, to any time, where would you go?"
"That's easy. I would go back to the time before the chaos of the Civil War, when people lived quieter lives and all the land surrounding New Orleans was made up of opulent plantations homes, not subdivisions and apartment complexes. Back to a world where grade was a way of life, and not a word in the dictionary...to a time when a man could hear his own thoughs, and reflect on them. I don't think we realize how noisy our world has become. I would revel in the quiet of that time."
"What about the future?"
"He Shook is head. "I think the future is overrated."
"How can seeing where we go be overrated? You wouldn't want to live long enough to see what progress we make over the next hundred years, or two hundred years?"
...Julian's dark brown eyes grew a little colder. "Can you imagine the monotony of living that long? Think of the knowledge people who live to a hundred have. How they know human behavior so well because they have experienced so much of it. Life would hold no mystery if you lived as long as that. Passion would hold no mystery if you lived as long as that. Passion would become extinct, because there would be no surprises left for you..."
"He stopped walking once more and turned to her. "Technology is a diversion, a simple sleight of hand that keeps you from seeing what really matters in life; people. If you were to outlive all of your friends, your time, your generation, and had to exist amid a world of strangers, it would be quite difficult, I assure you. There would be no one who knows you, no one to reminisce with, and no one to share a life with. Relationships would be made with every intention of leaving when it became heartfelt to spare you the eventual pain of heartbreak. You would wanter among people who had no understanding of your plight because you would be the only one of your kind. Sunrises would lose their poignancy, and sunsets would only bring the agony of another longely night. When eternity is within your grasp, the promise of forever becomes a curse and not a blessing."

~~~

The Satyr's Curse

By Alexandrea Weis

Nobody does Louisiana horror novels like Alexandrea Weis. This plus The Ghosts of Rue Dumaine (review coming soon) are sexy, savage and superb! I was pleasantly surprised when, upon picking up some definite clues, I was totally wrong when a main character Julian Devereau explained that vampires did not exist... cause I sure thought it was going to be "another" vamp...

Of course, Julian had been around New Orleans for over 150 years and would know...

But he's been around due to a curse placed by a Voodoo Priestess... Quite a difference, of course...

Jazzmyn Livaudais dropped out of college when her father had become ill and when he died, she inherited both their Bistro and home. Jazzmyn had discovered that she liked running the Bistro, but still had trouble making ends meet, given the cost of keeping up their home, which had been in the Livaudais family for decades.

Now, Jazz considered the employees at the restaurant as her family and spent the majority of her waking hours there, keeping the Bistro open 24-7. Most of the time was quiet, but her chef Kyle, would sometimes drink and cause trouble with the staff, being loud enough to be heard by customers... Most of the time it was because of differences that occurred between Kyle and Jazz...

Kyle was in love with her and, foolishly, one night Jazzmyn had drunk too much as well and had fallen into bed with Kyle. Now he acted like he owned her.

Most of the time that also didn't cause a problem, until Julian Devereau started coming in each night, sitting at the bar, sipping wine, but never eating... He had slowly started to flirt with Jazzmyn and she was finding it hard not to respond to his overtures. In fact, sometimes she wondered if he somehow hadn't cast a spell over her, since lusting after a man was not something she normally did...

Obviously the tension increased when Kyle took offense at Jazz's attentions to him... Especially since there had been several murders in the area--women mutilated as if by an animal...

"A table had been set at the edge of the gardens beneath the branches of a crape myrtle tree. Atop the white linen table glistened fine white china, sparkling crystal glasses, and gold utensils. All about the garden white tea lights flickered in glass sconces. There were even tea lights set on lily pads and floating about a round pond in the center of the garden. Rising from the pond, a gold satyr stood erect and staring up at the bright waxing moon, ascending in the evening sky. Several other satyr statues were nestled in and around the manicured shrubbery. In the background, a soulful Billie Holiday tune echoed across the gardens from an open french window on the second floor balcony above..."

~~~

"Stay," she pleaded, breathlessly.

"Julian's lips hovered teasingly over hers. "You're ready."
"When his lips met hers, the universe exploded inside Jazzmyn. She was overrun by an intense white heat as she slammed her body into him and began grinding her hips against his. She had never wanted a man like this, and the frenzied hunger that was taking over her mind frightened her. Her grip on rational thought ebbed away as she became consumed by her need for Julian. His kisses only seemed to intensify her feelings, and when his lips began working their way down her neck, she thought she would cry out with desperation.
"Julian groaned against her as his hands roamed over her breasts. He frantically pulled at the buttons down the front of her white satin blouse. Once he had forced the shirt from her shoulders, his teeth nipped at the tender flesh about her neck and breasts.
"I'm done waiting for you," she said against her skin, the frustration evident in his husky voice. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms before he started for the stairs. As he kissed her face and neck, he climbed the wide steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor landing, he went straight for her bedroom door.
"He kicked the door open with his foot, and when Jazzmyn saw the darkness of her bedroom looming before them, she shivered. She wondered how he knew where her bedroom was, and then she became afraid; afraid of the man she was going to give herself to. Her mind struggled to recall the questions that had plagued her throughout the day, but when his lips came down hard on hers, all her concerns were erased...

~~~

Now there's not a lot of suspense for the reader. Everybody working in the restaurant are warning Jazz that they think there is something weird about Julian. Kyle and her bartender, Scott, have both offered to drive her home alternating nights, because of the murders which continue to increase. That doesn't stop Jazz, though, from agreeing to meet Julian outside of the Bistro and when Jazz shows signs of continuing to see him, Scott, at least, tones down his watch in permitting Julian to take her home as well.  

Not so Kyle... and finally, one night, he starts a fight with Julian in the kitchen and Jazz is forced to fire him...

Jazz and Julian now spend even more time together until... Until Jazz, rightly, realizes that she's somewhat afraid and she starts her own investigation of Julian, his background, and his home... Reader alert:There is one violent scene not easily read in this novel...

The Satyr's Curse is one of, and maybe the best of Alexandrea Weis' novels. And it certainly is the best one to read during this Halloween Season... But, warning, the curse has not been lifted by the end of the book...so...beware... he'll be...hunting...

GABixlerReviews

Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews. Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for Best Romantic Suspense from the 2011 Readers' Favorite Book Awards, and was named Best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards. Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won Best Contemporary Romance at the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, and the Silver Medal at the 2012 ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards for Contemporary Romance. Diary of a One-Night Stand, was released in August 2012 and was named a Paranormal Romance Guild's Best Reviewed of 2012. Acadian Waltz was a finalist in the 2013 Readers' Favorite Book Awards for Best Contemporary Romance and Best Southern Fiction. 

A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

website: http://alexandreaweis.com

WOW! Look What' Coming from Author Alexandrea Weis!!!

The Satyr's Curse

Gruesome murders shock New Orleans.

 

But Jazzmyn Livaudais is too busy running her restaurant to pay attention to the sensational headlines. And when the charismatic Julian Devereau enters Jazzmyn’s life, she becomes even more distracted by the handsome stranger.

 

Seduced by Julian’s charm, Jazzmyn is swept up in a passionate romance. Then she learns the horrific truth about Julian and the murders. Cursed to an unending life where no woman can satisfy his lust and no wine can quench his thirst, Julian needs Jazzmyn’s love to free him from his torment. 

 

But Jazzmyn is in love with someone else. And Julian isn’t very happy about it. He vows to keep on killing until Jazzmyn submits to his will.

 

For Jazzmyn Livaudais the nightmare is just beginning.

 

No one can ever break The Satyr’s Curse.

~~~

The Ghosts of Rue Dumaine 

Ready to get her life back on track after ending a painful marriage, Danica Giles returns to the Creole cottage where she grew up in the New Orleans French Quarter. 

Danica is anxious to rekindle her friendship with a former resident from her old neighborhood, the seductive Gaston Deslonde. But Gaston isn’t exactly a normal guy. 

The charming man has been dead for over a hundred and fifty years, and the childish crush Danica once had on her ghostly playmate quickly turns into something much deeper. When a handsome new man enters Danica’s life, Gaston vows to do whatever he can to hold on to her.

Danica soon discovers that the most forbidden of all desires cannot be satisfied without paying a grave price.

 

Love can blur the lines between life and death when you are living among the ghosts of Rue Dumaine.

~~~

Thanks so much Alex, for spending time with readers of Book Reader's Heaven!

All of your books have been wonderful...

But...

These two coming!!! Whew!

I'm anxiously waiting for these...a little darkness in Louisiana??? Must-Reads for Moi!

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Writer Weis Shares About Her Wild Child and Other Critters!

Never let it be said that my spotlighted author has not shared pictures of herself... Now when I asked, she did send, but always as her body being used giving a critter a ride! LOL 

This dedication from one of her books may explain Alex Weis' life outside of writing her great novels!

Dedication for Broken Wings:  

For all the wildlife I have rescued, rehabbed, fretted over, stayed up all night with, cried into their fur, and lost. Thank you to all of my wonderful wild babies. You have made my life complete.    

One of the most fulfilling aspects of my life is working as a permitted and certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries. When I am not writing, my days are taken up with caring for orphaned and injured wildlife brought to me by concerned individuals. Now, more than ever, the wildlife rehabbers are working to save animals injured from interactions with society, or dealing with orphaned wildlife during the coming spring baby season. And yes, it can be dangerous, especially when dealing with rabies vector creatures such as raccoon, fox, and bats. So why do I volunteer to put myself in harms way? Quite simply, I love animals.

My evolution from rescuing dogs and cats to wildlife happened about eleven years ago when a neighbor brought me an orphaned baby gray squirrel. Her name was Widget McFidget McFee and she taught me how to love wildlife. The challenges with raising any wildlife orphan are much greater than raising a domestic baby. Chewed furniture, scratches, bites, and the occasional nut being buried in your shoe, can all result from raising a baby squirrel. But when you hold that fuzzy ball of fur in your arms, watch it grow, and see that little personality flourish, there is no difference, at least to me, between a human child and a wild child.

The day I set Widget free was a mixed blessing of tears and joy. My house seemed empty without her, but she gave me the confidence to raise more baby squirrels and return them to the wild. After her release, I started taking in more babies, and eventually received my wildlife rehabbers permit. Today I work with foxes, flying squirrels, fox squirrels, gray squirrels, raccoons, opossum, skunk, rabbit and the occasional otter. All of which would have never have been possible without Widget. 

And I was not abandoned completely by my first wild baby. Over the course of the next few years, Widget would bring her babies to me. She would bring every litter she had to my front door for a visit. Unfortunately, after hurricane Katrina, I never saw Widget again. But she is still with me every day. 

With every orphaned baby I take in, or with every injured adult I help, I think of Widget and the wonderful gift she gave me. Never let it be said you cannot learn anything from an animal. I was taught the greatest lesson there is from a squirrel. I opened my heart to a world I never even knew existed, and I have become a better human being because of it.     

Alex

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Feeding_baby_squirrel.jpg

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Weis' The Secret Brokers Starts New Dallas August Series!

She ignored his comment and placed her cell phone in the front pocket of her jeans. “Tomorrow I have to pick up a rescue in New Orleans at the Fair Grounds Racetrack. That was a groom I know, telling me about the horse.”
Dallas gave a quick nod. “Fine. What time are we going?”
“Are you sure you want to—?” Dallas gave her a menacing stare, silencing her rebuttal. “Fine, I don’t want to get in a heated discussion about it.” She waved her hand at him. “Be ready to go at three a.m.”
 “Why so early?” he asked. “We have to sneak in before the trainer shows up and takes the horse.” Dallas shook his head, almost laughing. “You mean we’re stealing it?” Gwen hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. “Not exactly, but you might want to bring your gun.”
His dark blue eyes once again became cold and distant. “Gwen, I don’t think this is a good idea. I was sent to protect you and if this—”
 “I’m going, Dallas! This is an animal that might have one more day left to live. I’m not going to stand by and let that beautiful creature die because you have concerns about my safety.”
 Dallas sighed, knowing that he would never be able to talk her out of it. “I’ll be ready to go at three.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and walked back to the palomino cross-tied behind her.
 “And Gwen,” Dallas called out. “Don’t even think of sneaking out of here without me. I’ll be sleeping on the couch from now on.”
She turned to him. “Lawrence not working out as a bunkmate?”
“Let’s just say he’s not the one I am hoping to share my bed with.”
http://mythoroughbredblog.blogspot.com/2012/01/on-january-7th-and-8th-2012-remember-me.html
~~~

   The Secret Brokers                                                       

By Alexandrea Weis

Dallas August was involved with Nicci Beauvoir and was much more in love with her than she was with him, for of course, her heart had already been taken. So when I saw this book, I knew I had to find out what had happened! That's the thing about series for me--you get to know the characters and what they have gone through and, just as that individual must feel, you need closure...

But what The Secret Brokers brought was really the beginning of a new series! And "maybe" a new woman in Dallas' life...

This is an exciting romantic suspense that gives some basic clues but, like Dallas, I never suspected what was really happening until the very end. I'm not sure I appreciated it and I know Dallas didn't...but then, he was also romantically involved by that time, so, LOL, he was more open to exploring things further than I would have been!

Dallas had returned to New York to take over and run the company where he had been working...you can find out why by reading the Nicci Beauvoir Trilogy.

While he was just getting settled in, however, a surprise visitor from Louisiana; i.e., Carl Bordonaro, requested his personal services. Dallas knew he really didn't have a choice. He was one of the major crime lords operating in New Orleans--and, in Dallas' type of work, that type of connection was a delicate balance that had to be maintained. Besides, Lance Beauvoir had sent him...

Bordonaro wanted him to act as a body guard for a friend's daughter. His friend was a witness for the conviction of a "competitor" of Bordonaro's, so he was quite willing to help ensure the daughter's safety.

Except that the actual reason he wanted Dallas to protect her was really related to his job--he needed information from Gwen about what she had learned from a former colleague. And if Dallas didn't get it, there were those in his crime business that would see to it that she never shared what that information was...

“What kind of information are we talking about?”
 “Secrets,” Carl answered. “Simon La Roy was known around the world as the man to go to when one needed secrets uncovered. As his successor, you’re the man to see. And with our past dealin’s together, I figured you were a man to be trusted.”
 “Who’s the target?”
 “Target? Odd chose of words.” Carl raised his dark eyebrows worriedly. “I don’t want her killed, Dallas.”
 “Target is the person who we are sent to investigate. My people don’t eliminate.”
Carl smiled. “Of course.” He nodded his head as he looked down at his stubby hands. “There was a former associate who knew a great deal about my business ventures. His name was Earl Yeager. Three years ago, Earl was diagnosed with cancer and spent his last days in a hospital bed. He was given the best of care, and I paid to have private nurses see to his comfort. One nurse became very close to Earl— so close, in fact, that I think he may have told her a few secrets about me. If these secrets were released to certain federal agencies, it could cause problems for me and several other men throughout the country.” He looked up at Dallas. “Some of these other business men want this young woman killed, just to make sure she doesn’t talk, but I can’t do that.”
 “Because you want to find out what she knows first?” Dallas inquired.
Carl shook his head and sighed. “Her father and I are… old friends. He was a liquor distributor in New Orleans. For forty years he supplied my house and businesses with liquor. Ed Pioth was good to me, and I’ve known his daughter, Gwen, since she was born. I attended her christenin’ and her first communion, so you can understand my dilemma.”
 “You want me to send out a specialist to find out what she knows. See if this Earl Yeager said anything that the feds could use against you and your… friends?”
Carl stared into Dallas’s eyes. “I can’t afford for anyone else to be involved at this point.” He pointed at Dallas. “I want you to go and find out what the girl knows.”
 “Me?” Dallas balked. “I’m right in the middle of taking things over here. Simon’s death was only leaked to the press a few weeks ago. I can’t just hop on a plane and—“
 “I would consider it a personal favor,” Carl interrupted. Dallas warily eyed the man and then shook his head...
~~~

Normally this type of job was just what Dallas was good at, but there wasn't time for him to do his normal routines...the trial was coming soon and the information was needed before the trial even started... Dallas had a problem and the one sure way to play it was to get "intimately" involved with her...

But Gwen was not an "easy" woman. She was recently divorced, owned a horse rescue farm by herself and rarely became involved with anything else... She was smart, but a loner...

And since she didn't have a choice about Dallas coming, since her father had arranged it, she was at least going to get something out of this... Dallas was soon doing much of the heavy work related to keeping and nursing horses back to good health! Not in his plan of seduction...

Especially after he had met her and was immediately attracted! Besides, the more he got to know her, the more he knew not to trust her...

I loved this one... Dallas was a character I enjoyed in earlier books... but I'm holding my decision on the new woman in his life! LOL If you love romantic suspense, this one is fun, and don't be surprised that you don't totally figure out what was reallllly happening! I sure didn't...Thanks Alex, you kept me involved to the very last page!


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Weis' The Secret Brokers New to BRH!

When I received the Banner showing all of Weis' books, I immediately noticed that The Secret Brokers was one I had not read! And it was about Dallas!

You know, the guy who fell in love, but didn't win, Nicci!

Well, there was no way that I could not read his new story, preferably his finding another female in his life, so I zipped out to Amazon and downloaded it to my Kindle immediately! That's the time when I really love having a Kindle!!!

Anyway...My review will appear next! Watch for it... And yes, she's just perfect for him...

Chapter 1

     The gray morning sky cast a cold veil over the sprawling New York high-rise buildings cluttering the skyline. Dallas August felt the chill of winter enveloping his body as he took in the view from his penthouse window. A blanket of white covered the trees in Central Park below, and he noted how Lasker Rink was still doing a brisk business. But winter would soon be drawing to a close, and Dallas knew he would no longer be able to blame the constant ache in his chest on the relentless cold. With spring looming on the horizon, he would have to consider another cause for his discomfort. He did not want to acknowledge the real reason for his heartache. Dallas believed giving in to one’s emotions was a sign of weakness, and there was no room for weakness in his world. Besides, she was a non-factor in his life now. She wasn’t his to love anymore.

      He turned away from the window and gazed down at the cream-colored carpet as he tried to push the memory of her soft, white skin from his mind.

     “Nicci,” Dallas whispered as a playful grin curled the edges of his lips.

     “Ya say somethin’, boss?” a deep voice called out from the entrance to his office.

     Dallas turned from the window to see a very tall, muscular man with coffee-colored skin staring at him. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and casual khaki pants. A .9mm Smith and Wesson pistol was holstered at his hip.

     “Hey, Cleveland,” Dallas said as he nodded to his security guard. “And I told you before, don’t call me boss…just Dallas.”

      Cleveland walked up to the dark oak desk in the corner of the room and laid the morning newspaper across it. “Ya look like crap, Dallas. Ya didn’t sleep again, did ya? Not like anyone could sleep in this here museum anyway.” Cleveland glanced around at the numerous photographs hanging on the walls of the man who had once occupied the penthouse. “Maybe ya should get rid of Simon La Roy’s things. Kind a creepy bein’ surrounded by a dead man’s stuff.”  

    

     “Everything stays,” Dallas ordered and then gave Cleveland a weak smile. “For now, anyway.”

     Cleveland studied the lean torso of his employer. No matter what Dallas August told him, Cleveland could see that he was being torn apart by something. Dallas had lost weight, and his probing, dark blue eyes had circles beneath them. His long, chiseled face appeared to be haunted by memories, and his square jaw only seemed to add to the emptiness in his eyes.

     “You’s still thinkin’ about that girl, ain’t ya?” Cleveland commented as he continued to stare at Dallas. “The one we rescued from that shoot out at Mr. Caston’s back in N’awlins. Nicci, Nicci Beauvoir—that’s her name.”

     Dallas shook his head. He walked to the desk and picked up the morning newspaper. “Nicci Beauvoir is dead, Cleveland,” he said in an icy tone.

     “Well, she sure ain’t dead to ya.” Cleveland rolled his eyes at Dallas. “And if ya treated her like ya treat me and everyone else in this here organization, I can see why she left ya sorry ass for the other guy.”

     Dallas spun around and faced him. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? I treat you and everyone else in this organization very well. The only reason I came back to this job was to save the people who would have been destroyed by Simon La Roy’s death.”

     “That lie workin’ for ya yet? ‘Cause if ya ask me, takin’ this job was the easy way out. Ya didn’t want to fight for that girl ya loved so much back in N’awlins. And God knows ya don’t want nobody to know what you’s really feelin’.”

     Dallas reflexively clenched his fists. “Are you finished?” 

     

     “I know I’m only supposed to be a security guard and all, but if ya ask me ya got a big wall up, and ya chase people away faster than a jackrabbit can haul ass across a field. Maybe if ya would be a little nicer and not snap at everyone like they was—”

     “You’re right Cleveland, I hired you to be my security guard, not my analyst,” Dallas interrupted. “So if you have nothing else for me you can go back—”

     “There’s a man here to see ya,” Cleveland cut in. “Says Lance Beauvoir sent him.”

 

     Dallas raised his dark eyebrows. “Does this man have a name?”

     “Don’t need none as far as I’m concerned. His face is on the front page of that newspaper there.” Cleveland pointed at the newspaper on top of Dallas’s desk.

     Dallas scanned the paper and saw the round face of one of America’s most notorious crime bosses plastered across the front page.

     Dallas looked up at Cleveland. “Carl Bordonaro?” 

     Cleveland nodded. “He’s waitin’ in that fancy room with the old Egyptian stuff.”  

  

     “It’s the drawing room,” Dallas corrected as he glanced down at the stainless steel watch on his wrist. “And those are ancient Greek vases, not Egyptian.”

                 “Do I look like I give a damn?” Cleveland turned back to the office door. “And if the two of you’s want coffee, then go and gets it ya’self. I’m the security guard, not the goddamn butler,” he asserted as he stepped into the hallway.  

~~~ 

"BRH thinks she's right for Dallas...but I don't!"
"Yeah, she tricked him and lied to him right from the start!"
"Sure, she's beautiful, but can he trust her?"
"Yeah, we think he's nuts to fall for her!
By the way, got any???"

  

Another Award-Nominated Novel From Weis--Diary..Excerpt!

Check out My Review!


Diary of a One-Night Stand

 is a PRG Reviewer's Choice 

 Nominee!!

     

Kara walked across the gold and white lobby, clutching her black purse in her hands. She felt the nervous butterflies in her stomach begin to break into a frenzied swarm. Was this the right thing to do? But then she thought of the way he had looked when they first met, the way his gray eyes had hovered over her figure, and the touch of his skin as he had gently traced his fingers along her arm. She remembered the shape of his face and the hint of his muscular body beneath his fitted black silk suit.

     Kara reached out for the elevator call button with a shaky hand. “Jesus, get a grip,” she whispered.

     As she stood waiting for the elevator to return to the first floor, a family of four came up beside her. She smiled over to the parents, who were dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts. In their arms were shopping bags filled with tokens of their visit to the Big Easy. Running about their feet were two small girls, no older than eight, Kara surmised. The children were dressed in matching dark blue overalls and white T-shirts. She watched them playfully chasing each other as they waited for the elevator to arrive.

     “Hey, you two behave,” the woman scolded, and then she turned her lovely brown eyes to Kara. “Sorry. They’re all hyped up on beignets.” She gave Kara a weary smile. “Between that and all the pralines they have eaten today, I’ll never get them to bed.”

     “Be thankful you just missed Mardi Gras. My daughter gets so wired on king cakes, I can’t ever get her down from the sugar high.”

     “Oh, are you from here?” the woman asked.

     Kara nodded her head. “Born and raised.”

    “We hear it is one hell of a time in this town during Mardi Gras,” the man beside her said as he patted his protruding paunch. “My wife and I would love to get back here without the kids to take in some of the fun.”

     “It’s something everyone should experience at least once in their lives,” Kara told him.

     The elevator doors opened and the children immediately ran inside the elevator car. Their mother followed behind them, reprimanding their exuberance. The woman’s husband, who was struggling to hold on to the family’s shopping bags, waved Kara in next and then followed behind her.

     Once the woman had grabbed ahold of her two girls, she turned once again to Kara. “How old is your daughter?”

     Kara reached over and hit a button on the console. “Ten,” she replied. “And getting to that age where she is trying to grow up faster than she should.”

     “I can’t wait for that,” the man said, rolling his eyes as he came alongside of his wife.

     “Oh, yes you can,” his wife refuted as she reached over and hit the number two on the console next to her. “When they’re sixteen and wanting to go on dates with boys, you will be sitting at the kitchen table having a heart attack.”

     Her husband chuckled as he looked over at Kara. “That’s what shotguns and shovels are for, darling.”

     All three adults chuckled with laughter as the two girls continued to try and pull at each other’s long dark braids.

     A few moments of awkward silence passed, and Kara observed the girls as she tried to occupy her thoughts. Both girls had their mother’s smooth white skin and heart-shaped face. She smiled as she thought of her daughter back at home, struggling with her math homework.

     The elevator doors opened and the girls immediately bolted down the hotel corridor. Their mother gave Kara one last fleeting glance and took off after her children.

     “Good luck,” Kara commented as she watched their weary father slowly make his way from the elevator car, his arms loaded down with shopping bags.

      “Yeah,” the man said as he nodded to Kara. “I’m gonna need it.”

      Relieved to finally be alone in the elevator, Kara’s thoughts began to stray from the exuberant family she had met to the man waiting for her on the fifth floor. She reflected back to their first meeting.

      “I’m not talking about a quiet dinner and some hand holding,” he had said to her as he put her business card in his jacket pocket the night of the fundraiser.

     “I’m not looking for any hand holding, Scott.”

     “How refreshing,” he had whispered, right before he leaned forward and let his lips graze her cheek.

     The feel of his lips against her skin still burned.

     The opening of the elevator doors snapped Kara back to the present. She gazed down the corridor decorated with pale yellow carpeting and portraits of old New Orleans on the walls. She then placed her hand against her stomach and swallowed hard.

     “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbled.

     She stepped from the elevator car and slowly made her way down the hall, anxiously eyeing the room numbers on the doors as she went. As the numbers climbed closer to the one she was searching for, Kara felt her heart begin to race. His voice popped into her head as she remembered when they had made arrangements to meet.

     “I have made reservations at the St. Charles Hotel for Tuesday night,” he had said to her over the phone a few days before. “Don’t disappoint me, Kara.”

     “And what makes you think I will join you at the hotel, Scott?”

     “Because I know what I saw in your eyes at the party. I know what I felt from you. We’re both adults, so let’s not pretend this is something other than lust. I don’t want to wine you and dine you into bed, and I don’t think you want that from me either. There’s nothing wrong with wanting me, Kara. I believe sex between two people can be a lot more fulfilling when they don’t try to make it out to be something other than what it is.”

     “How predictable to hear such words from a man,” she had said into her cell phone.

     Scott had laughed on the other end of the line. “Being male has got nothing to do with this. Admit it. You’re thinking the same way, Kara. I’ll see you Tuesday night.”

              

     Kara shook her head, dismissing her memories as she made her way down the hotel corridor. This was a mistake, she reasoned. But just when Kara was about to turn around and head back home, she found herself standing in front of suite 5659. 

 

     Her heart was pounding in her throat as she stared at the black numbers on the door.     Kara raised her hand and held it just in front of the door for several seconds before finally knocking. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, fighting back the panic swirling around inside of her gut.

     “You’re here,” a deep voice said in front of her.

     Kara opened her eyes and beheld Scott Ellsworth’s handsome face. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and a pair of gray slacks. His dark, wavy hair looked a bit disheveled, as if he too had been anxiously weighing the pros and cons of their meeting. His deep-set gray eyes gazed up and down her slim figure.

     “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he admitted as he stood back from the door.

     “I told you on the phone I would be here.”

     Kara walked into the suite and took in the finely decorated living area. To her right she spied a gold sofa, coffee table, and two matching gold and mahogany chairs. Beyond the living room, there was a small bar with a sink and mini refrigerator. Placed atop the bar were two crystal flutes, with a silver ice bucket sitting between them. In the bucket was an open bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame.

     She turned back to Scott. “Champagne?” She raised one blond eyebrow. “That’s rather cheesy, don’t you think?”

     Scott closed the door. “I figured it would help get you in the mood.”

     Kara tossed her black purse onto the couch. “In the mood?” Kara arched one eyebrow as she walked up to him. “That’s what foreplay is for, isn’t it?”

     Scott put his arm about her slim waist. “So, am I to skip all of my well-planned seduction material and just get right to it then? That’s rather a lot of pressure to put on a man, Kara.”

     Kara gracefully ran her hands up his white shirt. “I thought you were the kind of man who worked better under pressure.”

     Scott grinned. “Yes, I am.”

~~~

I tried to convince her not
to go, but... Sighhhhhh!