Halloween High #MFRWhooks

LOGLINE

He wasn’t looking for love or soul mates. He was looking for that Halloween high. Such was his justification. What comes around goes around was more like it.

BLURB

When Eunice Saint Jacques meets Adrien Ascott at the Halloween party of one of New Orleans’s prestigious hotels, she thinks he’s cute.

Nah, she thinks he’s the most gorgeous creature ever. Little does she know he isn’t all that he seems to be, and that this Halloween will seal her destiny forever!

While it’s Presentation Night at Club Sortilege, the renowned New Orleans BDSM club, Yvette Carlisle, the Grand Master’s slave, is worried. What happened to her friend Eunice should never have happened.

Not now.

Hell, not for a long time.

Yet, here she is, talking to Adrien and uncovering an age-old curse that makes his karma as deadly as that of Count Dracula himself. Is it true, or is he spinning just another tale of bondage and sadism in the plush lounge of Club Sortilege?

“I wonder what happened to him.”

“Who?” Holding her empty glass, Palomar flagged down the waiter.

“Count Dracula.” Yvette finished her cocktail in time to order a refill. “Remember him?”

“Hem…” Palomar’s gaze remained glued to the waiter’s firm ass. “Sure.” With an effort, her friend’s focus shifted on Yvette. “Hard to forget.”

Not a lie.

Yvette had wondered more than once about him. What had really happened the night Eunice had died? Why hadn’t the police been able to trace him anywhere?

“I tried looking for him,” she confessed as soon as the waiter had left their new drinks.

“You did?” Palomar was again eyeballing the attractive backside of the man who was now going to another customer.

Looking over

shoulder, Yvette had to admit that the sight was worthwhile.

“Why?” After sipping the frosty-looking Margarita. Palomar set it down on the table. “What do you need to know from him?”

“What happened to Eunice that night.” The cold drink slipped down her throat and burned her stomach. “Maybe, Count Dracula could shed new light on this,” she offered instead.

“Or maybe not.” Palomar contradicted in a sensible tone. “Maybe, he’ll show up at Club Sortilege.” Palomar giggled.

“That’ll be the day,” Yvette joined in, relaxing a bit. “I don’t see him as a Dom or a Master.”

“I don’t see him, period,” Palomar was quick to point out. “We never really had the chance to look at him properly.” She took another swig from her cocktail. “The chamber was kind of dark with all that candlelight.”

“I think I’d recognize him if I saw him.”

“Even at the club?” Palomar insisted. “Even if masked?”

Of course, it was a wisecrack. Palomar had nothing to do with Club Sortilege and its hot BDSM scene. That was Yvette’s domain.

Palomar was more traditional. She wanted a man to love and cherish her, a man to settle down with, marry, and have beautiful children together. That the woman had been actively looking for Mister Right without much success hadn’t deterred her from believing he was out there somewhere and that one day she’d magically find him. Still, Palomar was open-minded enough to accept Yvette’s alternative lifestyle without the slightest judgment or criticism, and it was the reason they were so close.

“I’d recognize him from his dick,” Yvette bragged jokingly.

“Don’t tell me you’ve memorized them all.” Palomar laughed out loud.

“No, but he’d be a new dick.” Yvette snickered, trying to rationalize it no matter how absurd she sounded. “One I had never seen, so I’d identify him pronto.”

“How many have you seen exactly?”