Hi peeps, we have Hunter Frost popping in today with her upcoming release Cemeteries by Moonlight, we have a great exclusive excerpt and a brilliant giveaway, so check out the post and click that giveaway link! ❤ ~Pixie~
Cemeteries by Moonlight
When a serious bout of writer’s block threatens to delay mystery author Drew Daniels’s newest book, his aunt offers her New Orleans apartment in the heart of the French Quarter as a writing retreat. She neglects to mention that it’s occupied by the enigmatic and sexy Finn Murphy, a cemetery tour guide with a penchant for Victorian attire and a Cajun accent.
A body discovered in an open crypt forces reclusive Drew to deal with Finn’s eccentric group of friends and his underlying attraction to the hot Cajun—despite warnings about Finn’s violent past. Drew might write this stuff, but he’s never had to solve a real-life murder. With a deadline looming and a killer on the loose, this retreat is proving to be anything but helpful for Drew’s novel. Drew can only hope he won’t end up a tragic tale for the Ghostly Legends & Lore, Inc. haunted tour.
States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.
My head throbbed like I’d been hit over the head by a steel beam. What’s the point of avoiding alcohol if you still get a hangover? I blamed the exhaustion. Whose brilliant idea was it to go out after such a long day? The answer was simple: insomnia and Finn. Which sounded more like a law firm, but man, could they sway a jury.
After Roz’s warning the night before, I had gone back to the three musketeers and chatted mindlessly about my writing and anything Hamilton and Adler could throw at me. Gwen barely said a word, but she didn’t need to. The uninterested expression on her sour mug told me everything I needed to know.
Adler and I walked home soon after, and I went straight to sleep—dead to the world.
I got up and packed my vape pen, not knowing what the day would bring. At the window, I looked out toward Adler’s cottage. I couldn’t see in, so I doubted he could see me. I took my hits, then pulled on the jeans I wore last night and a fresh long-sleeved T-shirt.
Outside my room, the apartment was bright, sun shining in from every window. The balcony doors were open, and Finn basked on a lounge chair under the sky. The scent of something delicious enticed me into the kitchen.
“There’s beignets and coffee from Cafe Du Monde for you,” Finn called out.
“Christ,” I said under my breath. Did men swoon? ’Cause this fella was making me dizzy.
I grabbed a warm café au lait and a couple beignets and walked over to him. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own food.”
He smiled, back in his Pelicans basketball shorts and a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that reminded me of the bad cop in Terminator 2. Sexy.
“I want you to get to know the best parts of New Orleans. Starting avec la cuisine.”
I sat down on the chair across from him and took a bite of the fluffy doughnut. Powdered sugar went everywhere. But it was worth it. So worth it.
“C’est bon?” he asked, handing me a napkin.
“Yes,” I replied, with my mouth full. “Thank you.”
“De rien. I mean, you’re welcome,” he chuckled, and he lay back on the chair.
The weather was comfortable. Warm, but not stifling, and the humidity hadn’t ramped up yet. I watched the cars and people go by in the streets, the morning much less raucous than the evening. I took a sip of the chicory coffee and glanced at the rooftop across the street. There on the top of the spire perched a crow, its head cocked to the side. Eyes boring into mine.
I blinked. It had to be the same one. It didn’t have any particularly defining features, but it wasn’t like I would get close enough to examine it.
My heart rate sped up despite my annoyance at such a fear. It was a fucking crow. One crow. With soulless black eyes and a massive razor-like beak.
I remembered what Sebastian said: The birds in the Quarter are always looking for handouts. It was after my beignet.
Roz’s voice followed in my aching head.
After putting the coffee cup down, I felt around in my pocket and pulled out the amulet she had given me. I studied the talisman in the sunlight. It had an octagon shape with what looked like three pronged pitchforks aimed at each point. What could this thing possibly protect me from?
“Where did you get that?” Finn asked, breaking my concentration. He had leaned forward and pushed up his sunglasses.
“Rozalie gave it to me last night before you guys left.”
“That’s her protection charm.”
I nodded. “She’s worried about the crow… that crow.” I looked up and pointed across the way.
The crow was gone.
I laughed and shook my head. Great. “I guess he flew off.” Leaving me to look like a complete lunatic.
Finn raised one brow. “Marie again, huh?”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Most people aren’t.” He put his shades back down. “You have plans today?”
“Is there anything else?”
He snorted. “You can’t live in the Big Easy and not experience it firsthand.”
“I didn’t come here for experiences.”
“Of course you did. Writers are always up for experiences. I read it somewhere.”
I sighed. He sure was beautiful. I tried to keep my eyes off his tattoo that called to me as he stretched and flexed. Then again, focusing my attention on his face didn’t help much either. The man did it for me. This straight man. What was I doing lusting after him? Probably some type of self-sabotage or sadomasochism. I really was sick.
“Come along on my cemetery tour today. Maybe it will inspire some of your writing?”
It’s a shame he’s adorable. It would be easy to say no to anyone else. I had just met the guy and he had me under his thumb with those pretty eyes and sexy accent.
And he did bring me beignets.
I put the amulet back in my pocket. “When do you head out?”
Finn checked his phone. “The tour’s at eleven. But if we leave at ten, I can give you bonus material.”
I had no idea what that meant, but once again I was curious.
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All Mitch wants for Christmas is a quiet holiday free from grief. Patching up the face of the target of a mugging in the back alley of his bar seems to throw that wish right out into the cold Chicago night. But the tatted, pierced, and skinny-jean wearing Keller Graham is fearless and proves to be more than a pair of icy blue eyes lined in black. Keller may be a thief, but Mitch never expected him to steal his lonely heart.
Hunter’s early addiction to the smell of printed books led her to spend most of her childhood in libraries and bookstores. There she fell in love with stories featuring medieval castles, ghosts, and handsome heroes. Though writing has always been a part of her life, after college she went on to explore careers in graphic design, the culinary arts, and dog grooming before returning to graduate school to get her MA in British history. To pay the bills she spends her days working for the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, but to appease her overactive muse, she writes the kind of fiction that keeps her sane. She adores romance in all forms, but prefers her stories with two heroes that find their happily-ever-after with each other.
Hunter would rather watch Spaceballs (or any Mel Brooks movies really), despite being born in the same year as Star Wars. She loves Monty Python, MST3K, and cheesy rom-coms from the ’80s and ’90s. Her wacky sense of humor is only paralleled by her hopeless romanticism. She’s a goth at heart and a sucker for men with long hair. She adores everything British, but insists tea be drunk without milk. She’s a pescetarian with vegan tendencies and has two fat little cats named after her favorite beverage – Latte and Java. She dreams of coastal living, marshmallows, and Matt Bomer.
Feel free to connect with her through any of her social media accounts, or send her an email. She welcomes messages from readers and/or Brits looking to adopt.