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When New Orleans detective Rick Plazier takes on a client who wants him to investigate her husband, he thinks it’s just another cheating spouse case. In an effort to prove her investigative skills are equal to his, Rick’s secretary/fact gatherer/collections agent, Amy Chang secretly agrees to represent the woman’s husband, who wants his wife followed. As their respective investigations deepen, both Amy and Rick uncover an ancient and deadly paranormal society which holds an annual auction of humans. Amy’s disappearance prompts Rick to finally comes to terms with his shapeshifting curse and use it to track and rescue her. But can the pair acknowledge the mutual attraction they’ve fought against and move from bickering into bed?

Reviews

Mrs Giggles - 89
an enjoyable story with enough substance to pack a pretty hard punch.

JERR - 4/5 stars
Reviewed by Karen Haas
“Bonnie Dee is a master of comedic wit. This story had me laughing out loud all the way through. The characters are well developed and even the secondary ones are charming and adorable. While there is some sexual tension between Rick and Amy they don’t get together until the very end. The sex is well worth the wait and the story is so much fun. ... there is plenty of fast-paced action and our hero and heroine have to admit their feelings and work together to save the day. I thoroughly enjoyed Moon Over Bourbon Street and I’m certain you will too."

Joyfully Reviewed - Reviewer Jo
"The passion and fear both Rick and Amy go through will keep you flipping the pages. I know they had me doing so. "

Excerpt:

I worked for Rick less than a week before his southern charm sucked me in. I knew he was trouble, yet I couldn’t control my pulse when he was around. I was surprised Rick didn’t hear it race with those extra-keen senses of his. But I decided I was not going to let myself fall under the spell of another player. The werewolf thing didn’t bother me, although it was a shock when I found out. No, it was the chronic need to bullshit and flirt I couldn’t get past. Rick was a complete horndog. More women went through the revolving door of his love life than shopped Neiman-Marcus the day after Thanksgiving. He wasn’t arrestingly handsome or conventionally good-looking, although he had nice, floppy brown hair and sharp, gray-green eyes. He exuded an aura like catnip to pussy and would nail any woman who showed the slightest interest. That’s what made Rick another asshole.

Another asshole to whom I was hopelessly attracted.

I think my workplace crush crossed the line to obsession the night Rick showed up at my door with a gunshot wound.

One early morning as I sat on the couch watching CNN, sipping coffee and composing a carefully worded e-mail to my mom telling her how together my life was now, I heard a scratching at my door. I muted the TV and listened. The scratching grew louder. I walked to the door, checked the deadbolt and listened, safe on my side of the solid wood.

An animal whined outside.

Standing on tiptoe, I peered through the peephole. In the pre-dawn light a shadowy dog-shape sat on my front step. The creature was big, German Shepard-sized, but I opened the door anyway. I’ve always been a sucker for stray animals, canine or feline.

The moment the door opened the animal pushed past me into the house, knocking me back against the wall.

“Jesus!” I cried as I realized this was no dog. There was something foreign about the shape--too big to be a coyote, its legs long and body rangy. I thought perhaps it was a wolf escaped from the Audubon Zoo.

The shaggy, gray animal limped into my living room.

I trailed after it. “Hey! Get out of here. Out! Bad boy!”

It ignored me, limping on three legs to the center of the room and flopping heavily down on the carpet. The right hind leg was the one it favored.

I crept closer to examine it. The thick fur of its haunch was matted with something wet and dark I guessed was blood.

The canine-thing turned to look over one shoulder at me. Pointed ears pricked forward and yellow eyes met mine, staring with such focus and intelligence it was eerie. The creature’s tongue lolled out, it stretched its neck and licked the injured hind leg. It seemed merely an outrageously large dog once more.

“It’s a dog. Has to be,” I murmured as I knelt near the beast’s hindquarters and slowly reached out a hand to touch its leg. “What’s wrong, huh?” I crooned, my fingers gently probing the matted fur to find the source of the injury. “You need to go to the vet?”

The animal gazed down its long muzzle at me and whined softly.

I was afraid to examine further. A quantity of fresh blood seeped from the wound and any deeper prodding might make the injured animal snap at me. From the look of its powerful jaws, one bite could take off my hand.

I sat back on my heels trying to decide what to do next, how to coax the animal into my car and to the vet without a leash. At the same time, my inner voice asked if I realized just how bizarre this situation was, how unusual for a wild animal to stroll into my house, bleed on my living room carpet and look up at me as though expecting me to fix it. I ran a tongue over my dry lips and the wolf-thing licked its snout.

Just then rays from the rising sun broke through the morning mist and infiltrated my living room window casting a weak yellow square on the floor. At the same moment, something happened to the reclining beast in front of me. A ripple shimmered across its body, not like a breeze blowing through the fur, more like something moving beneath the surface of its skin.

The animal let out a long, low sound, a mix between a whine and a growl, and began to writhe. Its body convulsed, limbs thrashing, head whipping back and forth.

My first thought was that it was having a seizure then I noticed the changes occurring in its body.

The fur slowly melted away. The individual hairs seemed to retract back into the pores. Bones cracked and muscles made horrible squelching sounds as the body reconfigured. Forepaws elongated into hands with separate digits while the rear legs straightened and the paws grew longer. Its spine crunched as the number of vertebrae reduced and the tail disappeared completely. The beast’s muzzle receded into its face and the large, pointed ears into its head.

The whole transmogrification took several minutes. It looked and sounded agonizing. The creature twisted in pain during the transformation and the half-formed man groaned loudly.

“Oh. My. God.” My hand covered my mouth holding back a scream. Yet, strangely, I didn’t feel any real fear. I was transfixed and horrified, but not fearful for my safety as I crouched there watching the strange wolf-creature turn into my boss, Rick Plazier.