That is, until he’s confronted with a Spanish-speaking force of nature who turns his life upside down.

Keep reading for an excerpt from A Caribbean Heiress in Paris by USA TODAY bestselling author Adriana Herrera!

SS La Bretagne, April 1889

Life in the Caribbean had taught Luz Alana Heith-Benzan a few vital lessons. First, corsets in the tropics were the purest form of evil. Second, a woman attempting to thrive in a man’s world must always have a plan. Third, a flask full of fine rum and a pistol served well in almost any emergency.

And most recently, if one was to ever find herself setting sail for the Continent in search of a fresh start, one must do so with her two best friends at her side.

“Can I go up to the Eiffel Tower too?” Luz’s little sister asked, as if she could sense she had been left out of Luz’s musings. “I promise I won’t drink any of your champagne.” Clarita had been attempting to commandeer their schedule while in Paris since the moment they’d boarded the first steamer in Santo Domingo.

“Clarita, you’re ten. You would not get champagne regardless of the circumstance.” That elicited a frustrated huff from the little monster, who at the moment was sitting primly by a bay window with the blue sky and water at her back, posing for a portrait.

“Stop needling her, Luz. You know how she fidgets, and I’m almost done with the sketch.” The artist was Manuela, one of Luz’s two best friends and Clarita’s most fervent enabler. “Don’t worry, querida. I’ll smuggle you up the tower.”

She was, at the moment, capturing Clarita’s likeness while her sister sat with her hands crossed over her chest and eyes closed, affecting a disturbingly funereal air. One eye popped open. “Can we go to the catacombs?”

“Don’t encourage her, Manuela. At this rate we will spend the summer traipsing through cemeteries.”

Clarita responded by lolling her tongue, making Manu guffaw.

Luz’s sister had become obsessed with the macabre after their father’s death eighteen months ago. She’d tried her best to fill the void he’d left, but with both their parents gone, she also knew there was nothing that could repair becoming an orphan at such a young age. That still didn’t make Luz any more inclined to haunt every graveyard in Paris.

The truth was that despite the hardships of the last few years, and her unease about what the future held for her and her sister, she was looking forward to the summer. Leaving Santo Domingo had been bittersweet: no matter how sound the reasoning, leaving home was its own sort of death. But there had been too much mourning in her life already. Looking ahead was the only alternative.