Perfect NOLA date (Caleb’s pov)
Caleb: The perfect date, huh? I guess I’m more a Mid City guy myself. Not many tourists, and a nice mix of every walk of life. I’m pretty blue collar all around, but I have unexpected polish here and there. Now, this is a deep secret I may deny up and down later, but I wasn’t always cruising with good looking girls, looking for cheap beer back in high school. I spent a fair amount of time walking City Park and poking around the NOMA.
Elise butts in: Wait a second. Are you actually trying to convince us that you, the infamous Caleb Warren, spent your deviant youth wandering around the New Orleans Museum of Art?
Caleb: Don’t look so shocked, doll. I’ve been known to get downright moony over a nice Jack Delano photograph. I’d love to take you sometime. When we're done looking at all the respectable New Orleans photographs, there’s a few risque ones. Like a nude photo of a woman with skin that looks like velvet. Makes me think of you.
Caleb: Sorry, baby, but you know I have some wild Cajun blood running through my veins. Brassaï took pictures of the kind of women I like…sexy and sweet, just like you.
Elise’s whispered aside: Caleb Warren, we can continue this conversation later…in bed!
Elise: So it would really be all high art on your ideal date?
Caleb: Hell no. A nice walk through St. Louis Cemetery # 3, preferably when the sun is setting and the the girl you love is just a tiny bit spooked--
Elise: Ha! Nice try, Warren. I’m born and raised in this city…ghosts don’t bother me even a tiny bit.
Caleb: Couldn’t you pretend? Just to be sweet?
Elise: Sorry, babe. I’m not the shrinking violet type. So you’re ideal date is shocking photography and hauntings?
Caleb: I’d round it out with a gelato from Brocato’s, and then we could pick up an ice cold six pack, find a quiet old live oak to sit under, and drink until the stars came out.
Elise: That actually sounds pretty romantic.
Caleb: Glad you’re all in. The Canal Streetcar is leaving in a few, and I’m ready to experience it all with you. And when we’re done, I’d love to strip you down and have my way--
Elise in a whisper: Caleb, enough! For now, anyway…
In the medical field, the precious moments following a traumatic event in which you have the best chance of saving a life are known as the golden hour.
But being there during the golden hour doesn't mean you'll be able to save the one you love...
New Orleans native and ER nurse, Elise Dupuis knows that fact all too well. There was nothing she could do to save her fiancé, New Orleans police officer Mike Bazanac, when he was brought into her hospital with two fatal bullet wounds.
Now everyone walks around on eggshells when she comes into the room—except her brother Charlie. As Mike's partner, he bears a guilt that's spiraled him into dark pain. Charlie is lashing out, Elise is turning in, and life seems to be falling apart around them.
Caleb Warren knows what it feels like to always be on the losing end of things. A few criminal turns in his youth landed him two crap choices: mandatory service in the armed forces or jail. He chooses to enlist, and just when he finds a commander who has a little faith in him, their truck hits an IED. Caleb's training as a medic isn't enough to save the one person who's ever given a damn about him.
Now back in New Orleans as an EMT, Caleb is bound and determined to drown himself in booze and regrets. But he crosses paths with nurse Elise Dupuis and finds a woman whose passion and courage gets under his skin in a way that wakes him up and makes him want to live again.
Unfortunately, Charlie doesn't think the new EMT is good enough for his sister, and he’ll step outside the lines of the law to prove it to Elise.
Caleb has to figure out what's worth fighting for…and how far he's willing to go for the woman he loves.
Liz loves Raisinettes, even if they aren't really candy, the Oxford comma, movies that are hilarious or feature Zombies, any and all books, but especially romance (the smarter and hotter, the better), the sound of her daughter's incessantly wise and entertaining chatter, and watching her husband work on cars in the driveway.
Steph has one husband, four children, and a serious nail polish obsession. When she isn't reading, writing or wiping someone's nose, you can usually find her baking something.