The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) by Denise Moncrief Page A

evaluating the scope of the work. Les Wakefield would expect a bid within a couple of days. She already had the outline of her proposal in her head.
    “You’ve been in there all day? Have you seen her?”
    Elsa tilted her head and stared at the woman. “Seen who? There’s been no one inside the hotel but me.”
    The woman clutched her wrist tighter, so tight Elsa thought she heard her bones creak like they were about to break.
    “Maybe you haven’t seen her, but you’ve felt her, haven’t you? That woman…the one they found dead. He gave her a rose, and it ended up in her mouth. That hotel should stay closed. It’s cursed.”
    Elsa had felt uncomfortable on a few occasions, particularly on the third floor, but all abandoned buildings gave off a creepy vibe. Why was this building different? New Orleans was supposedly the most actively paranormal city in the world. Hadn’t Elsa seen plenty of for sale signs that proclaimed whether a French Quarter property was haunted or not? If the woman was suggesting the place was haunted, well… She’d heard the hotel was home to several lost spirits, but she didn’t believe in ghosts.
    No one had ever said the hotel was cursed. Until now.
    She finally managed to free herself of the woman’s claw-like grip and dared to laugh large, hoping to give the woman the impression that she didn’t buy into her crap. The woman leaned forward, and Elsa stepped back.
    “Don’t go in there when it’s storming.”
    “Why not?” Okay, she would placate the woman and let her have her fun.
    “That’s when the gifter gives the rose.”
    Something about the woman’s voice hypnotized her. She couldn’t break free from the discussion. At that point, she had to stay until the whole conversation unraveled.
    “What are you talking about?”
    The woman’s eyes reflected foreboding as if she believed her warning to be falling on deaf ears. “The curse of the single red rose.” She licked her lips over crooked teeth. “If the gifter gives you a single red rose on a stormy night, beware. Get out of the hotel as fast as you can. If you don’t, you won’t be alive in the morning.”
    Elsa smiled. What could she say to that? The woman obviously believed she was doing Elsa a favor by warning her about the curse.
    “Thank you for telling me about this. I’ll keep it in mind.”
    The woman backed up a few steps. “You’ve been warned.” She disappeared into the same darkness from which she had appeared.
    The next morning, Elsa had asked a few people who worked in shops along Royal about the woman’s story. Nobody seemed to want to talk about it until she spoke to Ingrid, the owner of an incense shop in the next block. Her store smelled like Ingrid sold more than just incense. The distinctive ropey aroma of burning cannabis floated in the air.
    “Oh her. That’s Sephronia. Her and her old man have been trying to buy that property, but I heard the man that owns it won’t even consider selling. She’s probably just trying to cause trouble by freaking you out. Don’t pay attention to her. She’s a nut job. Have you met the new owner?”
    “I have.”
    Ingrid’s eyes had brightened with an almost manic light. Was the whole Quarter a bit demented? “So he really exists?”
    Elsa nodded. Of course, he did.
    “Well, that’s a relief because a lot of people on this street think the man is not real. He’s only come around here once. Sonja tried to speak to him, but he acted like he didn’t even hear her. She said that she left without talking to him.”
    She’d just met Sonja, the girl who ran the specialty boutique across the street. Sonja hadn’t acted like she had heard anything about the hotel or its history. In fact, she acted as if she’d been inhaling a bit too much of Ingrid’s incense.
    Ingrid had broken off to wait on a customer, and Elsa hadn’t been able to finish asking the abundance of questions that had crowded her mind.
    Her cell phone rang loudly, drawing her