Let’s celebrate Halloween TODAY! I mean, why not? You know what they say… there’s no time like the present! And what better excuse do you need than a spicy Halloween monster romance novella? CURSED DESIRES is the treat you didn’t even know you needed. So, place your pre-order today and you’ll be enjoying this sinfully tasty tale by the 21st of October! Just imagine the anticipaa– *grin*
BLURB: It’s All Hallows’ Eve and Mara Coleman’s planning some practical magic. Tired of spending her days in Salem alone, she heads out into the crisp autumn forests to summon a familiar. It seems an easy solution to a simple problem. But as the old adage warns … Be careful what you wish for. Mara’s summoning works more effectively than expected and instead of merely acquiring an animal companion, she allows a centuries-old, cursed creature into her home. And whether she likes it or not, the golden-eyed monster intends to keep her in bed all Halloween!
With a quality edit and updated back matter… The Death by Desire Duet is refreshed and AVAILABLE again just in time for Halloween readers! If you love short, dark, and spicy Reverse Harem… this duet is for YOU! HAPPY READING!
Death by Desire is a duet of short, extremely dark, and wickedly spicy Victorian Gothic Historical Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance novellas where the ladies are literally willing to die for pleasure on All Hallows’ Eve, and their unearthly paramours are more than willing to oblige them. Both stories shift between realities, from the present day and into the past, with delicious realm-slip and time-slip elements! Because there’s nothing quite like a Darkly Ever After!
BOOK 1 BLURB:
Evelyn Murray is trapped in a nightmare from which there is no waking. Ever since she was a child, she’s been plagued by the vicious shadow monsters that live under her bed… they frighten and torment her until she truly believes she is disturbed. Now that Evelyn has come of age the attentions of her monsters have become increasingly dark, depraved, and sexual. And tonight, on All Hallows’ Eve—the eve of her eighteenth birthday—she’ll learn what true fear and desire feel like when the monsters return to stake their immortal claim once and for all…
When curvy starving artist Victoria Austen purchases a remote and derelict manor in the English countryside with her meager inheritance, moving in on All Hallows’ Eve, she thinks she’s landed her dream home… but she couldn’t be more wrong. Because Haywood House is filled with unseen nightmares. Victoria’s never believed in the paranormal, but the ghosts of Haywood House don’t care. They have an unquenchable and unholy thirst that demands slaking—and this Halloween Victoria’s on the menu.
Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Raven & the Beast? If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!
BLURB: Escaping an abusive relationship with a violent Dom, Cassidy has nothing and no one to support her. So, she does the only thing she can. She takes on the oldest trade in the world, and sells her body by the hour at The Glory Hole, the oldest, and most famous sex club in New York City. Taking on the stage name of “Raven”, she intends to work just as long as it takes to save some money, and get back on her own two feet. But then she meets her first anonymous patron for the night—“the Beast”—and her life takes a very unexpected turn when he doesn’t want to let her go.
My heart races as I enter through the STAFF ONLY door of The Glory Hole. With a full face of makeup, and my pitch-black hair freshly washed and loose, I slip through the dark, neon-lit halls to find a free booth. It’s my first night working, and I couldn’t be more anxious. My skin prickles with electricity, practically vibrating with nervous energy. I never imagined I’d end up in the sex industry, just another piece of meat in the grinder … but here we are.
Truth be told, I have no other options. I can’t stand facing people. Even just doing my shopping and getting from one place to the next consumes all my mental fortitude. There is no way I could deal with your run-of-the-mill customer service jobs, be it cashier, waitress, or telemarketer. Since my ex isolated me, breaking me down piece by piece until he shattered my expressive and once bold soul, I’ve become low-level agoraphobic. If I’m outside of my safe space for too long, or around crowds of people, I put myself at risk of suffering a panic attack.
The brutality of my ex-boyfriend’s particular brand of love still haunts me. The pain he caused remains as clear on my flesh as it does in my heart. Abusive piece of shit. He lured me into the BDSM scene with his smoking hot good looks, knee-weakening charm, and natural dominance.
Like a hapless moth entranced by a glowing flame, I eventually ventured too close to his fire—and I got burned. What started out as a consensual Dom/sub relationship soon turned ugly. There were no limits, safewords, or respect. I became his collared property. And I wasn’t his precious pet, or his beloved submissive … he treated me like I was worthless. He made me feel like I should be grateful he even allowed me to breathe.
He stole my heart when I was at my most vulnerable and took advantage, asserting his power over me in the most violent and toxic ways imaginable. I grew to fear him, trembling at his touch in genuine terror for my life. And then I learned I wasn’t the first. I was just another dumb bitch in a long line of used up, abused, and discarded women. I wasn’t special. And he wasn’t just losing control. I was simply nothing to him, and he never really loved me. He wasn’t worthy of the excuses I was making for him. He really was just a monster.
So, I ran as far I could and hitched the rest of the way when my legs would no longer carry me. And now I have nothing to call my own in this world. No family, no savings, no friends to fall back on. There’s just what I am—a body. A body that can enter into service of the oldest profession known to mankind. I can sell my tomb of flesh by the hour, but at least this time it’s on my terms. I know what I’m getting myself into. Everything is upfront, literally written in black and white, and signed on the dotted line. With my prior experience in the BDSM lifestyle, and my utter lack of self-esteem, this seemed like the next logical step in rebuilding my life. I love sex. I just hate my fucking ex. I’m going to earn a wage to survive on, and reclaim my sexuality at the same time.
My job here at The Glory Hole is to be one of many anonymous fucks—with three holes and two hands to be used for the pleasure of others for as long as they desire, until my shift ends. But instead of death threats, black eyes, bruises, bloody lips, and hours of painful, emotional rejection, I get to leave each night with a fat paycheck for my efforts. And if I’m lucky, I might just enjoy some of it and begin to heal the damage of my past. I mean, it’s sex minus the violence. It’s a start, and some of it is bound to feel good, right?
At the end of the day, what matters most is that I’m finally safe from that bastard who so selfishly carved his name onto my heart with his cruelty. I have a chance to start over. I might be crawling up from rock bottom, but I refuse to lay down and die. And it’s not like I can fall any further. I’ll suck cock for as long as it takes to claw my way to true freedom and independence. And thankfully, until I can afford a place of my own, I can rent a room above the club. The security here is second to none, and the club takes care of its girls. We may be commodities, but here at least we’re valued. And if I get to bliss out to an orgasm or two as my clients get their rocks off? Awesome. I can think of worse jobs.
The booth is clean but small, and covered with artistic street graffiti, setting the mood. This may not be a high-class establishment, but it’s one of the oldest and well-known in New York City. You’re just as likely to find an undercover celebrity frequenting the glory holes to satisfy his carnal lust as the crackhead that deals drugs down glass-strewn, dark alleys.
The Glory Hole rejects no one who can afford to be here, assuming you check out physically. Whether you’ve got old money, a steady blue-collar job, or you just hawked everything you own to get in the door, one man’s paper is as good as any other’s.
Licking my glossy black lips, I sit down and strap on my matching black heels. Here, my name is Raven. Gothic, exotic, and tantalizing—I’d like to think I offer something a little less vanilla than most are used to. Dabbing some perfume on my pulse points, I freshen up and take a deep swig of liquid courage from the flask in my handbag. We’re not allowed to be inebriated on the job, but they’re not going to begrudge a new girl a little bit of comfort on her first night.
Slipping off my skirt and G-string, I let them fall to the floor. Then sucking in a steadying breath, I perch my ass on the padded leather bench that’s to be my fuck bed. Laying down, I slip my legs through the curtain made of soft leather strips that match the bench. Wiggling down until the strips tickle my hips, I’m painfully aware that my waxed cunt and voluptuous butt are now on display to anyone who might be on the other side of the glory hole.
I reach for the wall-mounted pump of lube, and squirt some into my hand, before reaching down cautiously beyond the curtain. My fingers graze my clit as I make both my holes slick, readying myself for my first customer until I naturally have time to get warmed up. I shiver as my long black nails play across my delicate folds, before sliding up my stomach to disappear from view once more.
Unable to see anything beyond my own navel, I stare up at the ceiling and bite my lower lip. This is it, I realize with a scintillating thrill. From this moment on, I’m officially a whore.
If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!
🍒⭐️ GIVEAWAYS & PROMOS ⭐️🍒
Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter. Until next time!
Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Entangled Souls? If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!
BLURB: Seven thousand years after the Dark Lord unleashed his Darkness upon the Continent, in grief, killing millions—a new Lady of Light is born, a doppelganger of his lost love. When she comes of age, her inner Darkness calls out to the immortal and jaded Nox. At the sacred Day of Love celebrations by the River of Souls, Nox risks his life to save hers, breeching the magical barrier that keeps him out of the North, defying the Goddess. In that moment, he unknowingly sacrifices a part of himself, sharing his immortality with the young queen, Astra, and entangling their souls forever after…
I am unlike the White Queens that have come before me—there’s something wrong with me. Born to reign over the Northern Continent from the Crystal Throne, I’m supposed to be the Bastion of Light, Scion of Purity, and the Heart of Goodness… I was born to be the moral compass for my people, but I fear that I’m not. I fear that I can’t be, no matter how hard I try, because deep down inside me exists a truth that I’m afraid to admit.
I fear that even giving it credence will only cause it to take root, and grow like a weed—wild, rampant, and unchecked—to choke the sacred garden of my soul and poison my heart. But the seed is already there. I feel it like a fleck of Darkness, just waiting patiently for its time to bloom and reveal me for the traitor I am. And more than that … I’m afraid that I want to find out, and be found out.
Today is the Day of Love, a day where we all celebrate the driving force that keeps us together, like a celestial glue that anchors our hearts to one another, as friends, family, and lovers. From the lowliest servant to the crown that sits atop my head, we all take this day to thank the Goddess for this gift. Love is what keeps us going. It’s what keeps us fighting each and every day. It’s what separates us from the Southern Continent and its bleak and Eternal Darkness.
The River of Souls divides us physically, acting as a barrier. When we die our souls will join the river, and wrest against the poisoned souls from the South for all eternity to keep the North safe, prosperous, and peaceful. Our deaths, therefore, are as meaningful as our lives. For in death, we protect all that we love. We keep the sacred balance so that all those who come after us may enjoy what we have.
On the Day of Love the people of the North bring tributes to the North bank, to honor all those who have passed, and to thank them for their undying service to those of us who live on. Some travel for weeks from all corners of the North to be here on this day. And I too must participate in the observance.
Each year a royal procession leaves the White Castle and the White Queen has the sacred duty of commencing observance. I will lead my people in song and prayer, so that the souls who ensure our safety know they are not forgotten, nor unappreciated.
The Day of Love also serves as a reminder to us all, that the Goddess sacrificed a part of her Light the day the barrier was created. That Light now lives on in me. I am the living embodiment of the Goddess here on the Continent. Within me resides the truth of her existence, and the people’s final hope. She is our mercy against the Dark.
If there ever comes a day the River of Souls should break, and the souls of Darkness spill into the North like a plague, only the White Queen’s sacrifice can cleanse the land and save her people. It’s why the White Queens are always armed. Despite our purity and peaceful ways, it is our duty to protect. And like a key in a lock, only by the queen’s own hand can the sacrifice be made. My life for the many—that is the burden I carry. And some days it feels heavier than others. Today is one of those days. Today, I feel its crushing weight, and yearn to be free of it.
It’s selfish and immature, and beyond preposterous, but I feel it all the same. I may wear a crown, I may have been raised and educated a princess, and crowned a queen, but I’m still just one soul—and a lonely soul at that. I have come of age, and soon I must take a husband so that I can ensure the Passing of the Light. But my heart stubbornly shirks the responsibility thrust upon it. It wants to be wild and free, like a bird on the wing. It wants to fly and explore, and experience more than what duty has so rigidly planned for it.
They say duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty. But I dance the fine line in-between these two truths. I must follow duty for love—for the love of my people. The price of this duty is the death of love. My love, or at least any opportunity for it. I will marry, carry a child, and pass on the Light as is my sworn duty. And in that commitment I will have a tame love, safety, and my fair share of contentment … but what my heart truly desires is unthinkable. It craves adventure, danger, and an epic love that sweeps me off my feet.
I want to feel just once like nothing in the world matters but a single breathless moment. I want to feel such passion that for just a heartbeat in time I’d be willing to see the Continent burn … just to stay right there. To make that perfect, ravenous, and all-consuming fire last a little longer—even if it’s wrong in every sense of the word—before it must be quenched and dashed. Just like my dreams.
Is that so wrong? I wonder, as my maids dress me in the last of my crystalline regalia. Fire can’t always be contained. Sometimes it longs to be wild and swallows everything in its path. And you can’t blame the fire, for that is its very nature—and new life springs forth from the destruction it wreaks. So, is it truly wrong for my heart to want for more? To lust after something so intangible as a passion the likes of which no White Queen has ever felt?
With a sigh, I adjust my crown. Time to go. Starting the long descent from my tower chambers, I can’t help but be acutely aware of the way my heart skips and flutters with a strange, and new nervous energy.
If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!
❤️⚠️ GIVEAWAYS & PROMOS ⚠️❤️
Thank you once again for reading, and for your support! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to Subscribe to my Newsletter. Until next time!
Every week I’m going to do a Book Spotlight until I run out of books! So, let’s go! Have you read Loving Monsters: Volume 1? (Book 1 – 5 of the Loving Monsters series) If not, what are you waiting for? Read on for the blurb and an excerpt to capture your imagination!
BLURB:
5 wickedly dark and delicious monster romance novellas in one beautiful paperback collection! Featuring Jack the Trickster in Sinister Desires, The Grim Reaper in Deathly Desires, The Devil in Infernal Desires, The Kraken in Twisted Desires, and The Mothman in Lunatic Desires!
I’m not ready to die! I cry out in my mind—to God, the universe, my foremothers, or All Hallows’ spirits; I can’t be sure. Everything that has previously existed in my life has narrowed down to one imperative goal: survive. Heart set on home, I push myself until my lungs are burning and a pain flares in my side, stealing the breath from me. I gasp out in pain, my hand finding the confluence of my hip. A fucking stitch! You’ve got to be kidding me. Not. Now!
But in the next second, the stitch is the least of my problems. Something catches my boot, and suddenly I’m airborne. A scream rips from my throat as I fly for what seems like forever. I hit the sodden ground hard and shriek as pain radiates through me from my chest. My ankle feels like it’s at entirely the wrong angle.
“Fuck!” I sob, drawing myself up onto my knees. Reaching out for something, anything, with which to support myself, I find a large crooked stick. Gritting my teeth, I mutter a string of profanities under my breath as I clutch it with both hands, pulling myself up by sheer force of will. A low growl rumbles behind me, and I forget how to breathe. This is it. This is where I make my stand. This is where I die—in the woods on Halloween. Fucking perfect. A ridiculously nervous, bordering on maniacal laugh escapes me as I turn to face the wolf.
“All right, bitch,” I say, raising the stick like a baseball bat. “Let’s do this. If I’m going to die, you’re going to be chewing on my fat ass with one mother fucker of a headache!”
The wolf growls again, baring its fangs in a vicious snarl of warning.
“Come on!” I goad. “What are you waiting for?”
The wolf lowers its head, pawing at the earth as it gets ready to launch.
No. Fuck you! And then, committing my weight to the swing, I lash out first, bringing the stick around in a wide arc. I catch the side of the wolf’s face, and it seems as though the moment plays out in slow motion. I see the wolf’s flesh ripple with the impact of my blow, and its nose scrunch as the force knocks its head to the side—causing it to stumble and yelp.
“Come on! Is that all you’ve got? Where are your friends?” I shout, trying to ignore the searing pain in my ankle. I gingerly put weight on it, struggling to keep my balance. The wolf growls again, and its pack stalks from the darkness. “All right, now this is a party!” I scream at them, gripping the stick tight. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging!
The wolves’ golden eyes glimmer in the moonlight like jewels. They’re such beautiful beasts. If only they weren’t trying to eat me… A brisk breeze ruffles my hair, and the air behind me chills so suddenly, and unexpectedly, that it feels like some cruel trickster has snuck up on me and tipped a bucket of ice-water down my spine. I freeze in place as the wolves whine. One after the other, they back-step, their glittering eyes focused somewhere behind me. Then the wolves flee as one, turning on their heels, deciding that I’m not worth standing up to whomever—or whatever—lurks at my back, bringing the chill of the grave with it.
Trembling, I will myself to turn and face my unexpected savior. Or is it damnation? Agonizingly slowly I find the courage to pivot around. Eyes on the ground, my gaze travels up a weathered black trench coat which whispers eerily in the mist as if it’s alive, like sentient, breathing shadows. I swallow the bile that creeps up my throat, daring to look higher still.
An imposing figure reveals broad shoulders, and upon those intimidating shoulders sits a pumpkin—a jack-O-lantern to be exact. With the most menacing, soul-sapping, sharp-toothed grin, and angled, hollowed-out eyes that burn not with the innocent flames of tea-light candles, but with the fucking fires of Hell. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes. Not even a squeak. My lips move, but my lungs fail me.
The jack-O-lantern opens its coat with long, green, provocatively clawed fingers to reveal an equally moss-green body; the body of a man, but not. My unblinking gaze trails down solid pecs to find a ridiculously ripped set of abs … and then… Sweet mother of God! This abomination is packing the biggest, thickest cock I’ve ever seen. It must be twelve inches! And it’s green, too!
I can’t do anything but stare, immobile as the monster steps closer, its blazing eyes dancing with a terrifying intelligence. I gasp as a leafy vine creeps out from under his trench coat, trailing over the moist earth. Its delicate tendrils twist around my ankle, wrapping it up like a bandage of green gauze; then they tighten, and a cry bursts out of me at the sharp but fleeting pain that follows. I watch with rapt fascination as the vines uncoil, releasing my leg, only to disappear back beneath the jack-O-lantern’s coat of darkness.
I instinctively twitch my ankle, then gasp, glancing up at the towering monster before testing my weight on it. “It doesn’t hurt,” I whisper in awe. “You fixed it?”
The jack-O-lantern tilts its pumpkin head the way a curious cat might, as if it wants to communicate.
“Thank you,” I stammer, raising my voice above a whisper. “You saved me from those wolves, and now you’ve re-set my foot.” I lick my lips nervously when no conversation is forthcoming. “Can you speak?”
The monster shakes its head slowly from side to side, never taking its burning eyes from me. It watches me for a time. Then another tendril snakes out, writhing toward me to seize my wrist, tightening just enough to hurt. It tugs, drawing me nearer and nearer. I stumble forward, eyes wide, my heart in my throat as the living pumpkin vines pull my gloved hand toward its monstrous, green, dark-veined cock.
If you love it please be sure to leave a star rating, or even better, a review! It means the world to me, plus the more reviews/stars a book has, the more likely it is to be seen and promoted to other readers due to Amazon’s algorithms!
Not enough Halloween spookiness for you? NO PROBLEM! My bestie’s newest book has just gone live and it’s available in ebook, paperback, and audio! Treat yourself. You totally deserve it.
BLURB:
He’s handsome, funny, and a real Romantic. Unfortunately, he’s dead.
Voicey, irreverent, and delightfully gothic.’ Keshe Chow, Sunday Times bestselling author of The Girl with No Reflection ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
When student journalist Emma goes undercover to investigate a secret society resurrecting long-dead literary icons, she expects to discover nothing more than a group of college girls with Ouija boards. What she doesn’t expect is to accidentally summon the spirit of never-quite-famous poet, Nathaniel Harker.
Now, Emma’s got a brooding, besotted nineteenth-century poet following her around. But whilst initially determined to write the article of a lifetime, she quickly discovers that the lure of her very own love-struck tortured poet is hard to resist…
However, as they fall for each other, Emma realizes the sorority sisters are onto her ghostly secret. It’s up to her to keep her poet safe no matter what the cost—but will protecting Nathaniel also mean losing him forever?
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days meets Ghosts in this quirky, gothic, dark academia spooky romance.
FAEDRAROSE.COM 
You must be logged in to post a comment.