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Here’s the thing, I need you to believe monsters are real. But ask me that question, and I’ll tell you the truth. No, it’s not possible. The more believers out there, though, the busier I am at night booking walking ghost tours in New Orleans’ French Quarter. I like giving tours, love them actually. I was born to do this—well, I thought I was until I met him. Now everything I thought I knew has changed. It was a normal tour, like all the rest, except Spencer isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. How am I supposed to resist those sapphire blue eyes and the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen? I mentioned he’s hot, right? And it’s not just him. He has three friends. Three men who look at me like I am the sun and the moon. Just because Spencer saves me from a man whose speed is lightning fast and claims he and his pack mates have been looking for me doesn’t mean I should fall for them, does it? The temptation to give in to their suggestions is hard to resist. Maybe too hard. Maybe I wasn’t meant to point out tombstones and landmarks. Maybe there is something to the prophecy Spencer’s pack talks about. Maybe I don’t know sh*t about monsters after all. But now I believe in them. |
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