Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)

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8.54
Years ago, Jake Mallory fell in love all over again with Ashley Donegal—while he and the Krewe were investigating a murder that replicated a horrible Civil War death at her family’s Donegal Plantation.

Now, Ashley and Jake are back—planning for their wedding, which will take place the following month at Donegal Plantation, her beautiful old antebellum home.

But Halloween is approaching and Ashley is haunted by a ghost warning her of deaths about to come in the city of New Orleans, deaths caused by the same murderer who stole the life of the beautiful ghost haunting her dreams night after night.

At first, Jake is afraid that returning home has simply awakened some of the fear of the past…

But as Ashley's nightmares continue, a body count begins to accrue in the city…

And it’s suddenly a race to stop a killer before Hallow’s Eve comes to a crashing end, with dozens more lives at stake, not to mention heart, soul, and life for Jake and Ashley themselves.

Book Info

  • Original Title:Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)
  • Author:
  • Rating:8.54 / 10
  • Genre:Romance
  • Language:English
  • ISBN:-
  • ASIN:B01N9HXOKI
  • Publisher:Published October 24th 2017 by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated

Content

Prologue

 

David Henderson laughed as the cadaverous witch danced before him. The person—actor or actress or just-out-for-dress-up-fun person—was really magnificent. The costume was tight and black, with some kind of extra piece flowing around the body. The hat was big and black and pointed. The face… The face was the best. Green and mottled, with a huge hooked nose. And the eyes burned in a mixture of red and gold. Fantastic!

Annoying, though. David knew that the house just outside the French Quarter off Frenchmen Street was occupied that night only by one person, the old man who had owned it for years and years. His family had recently refurbished the home, which had been in a sorry state since the devastation of Katrina. But now, the old man’s Wall Street son-in-law had been pouring money by the gallon into the place. It was prime for picking.

Or, in David’s case, prime for the robbing.

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