Dark Romance Christmas Books Novels & Stories

com Bibliography: Spark Series: When Sparks Fly Dorchester No Words Alone Dorchester Solar Flare Anthology for the Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance: Hemlock & Iron Indie books: Dark Lands Series in order: The Charmer Dark Lands: Homecoming Scent of Danger The Golden Bell Ghost in Her Heart Beast Wars Dark Lovers (G.Bell & Homecoming combo) Dark Warriors (Ghost IH & Beast Wars combo) The Woman Inside The Other Woman Through the Looking Glass Ride The Stars Careful, He Bites Interstellar Lover Under the Bridge

He would wake me up to take pills. Then after that, I'd be out again. The moment I opened my eyes, it was already dark. Surprisingly I was shivering in bed. “Elias?” “It's so fucking cold.” I groaned. My eyes watched Damien. He began to move around, closing all the windows. But it didn't help. The next second, he slid into bed with me. A soft purr left my lips when he drew me to him. He wrapped his arms around me. Why was he being so sweet with me?

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.

He grabbed my waist and jerked me hard against his chest, his grip so tight it bruised. His eyes were no longer those of a parent or a protector; they were dark with a hunger that terrified and thrilled me. “You’ve been playing with fire for a long time, Snow,” he growled against my lips. “It’s time you finally got burned.”

We lay there for a long time, the only sound in the room being our ragged breathing. Finally, Elena shifted, carefully lifting herself up and sliding off the double dildo with a wet, heavy sigh. I shivered as the cool winter air hit my empty, aching core. She lay down beside me, pulling the heavy holiday quilt over our tangled, sticky legs. She turned her head to look at me, her green eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Well, Lucian," she whispered, tracing a lazy circle on my chest, "that is certainly one way to spend a Christmas vacation."

We ducked under the overhang of the bookstore next door, the one where he had read me Keats in the narrow aisle, and stood in the small shelter of it while the rain came down around us and the city moved through its wet evening patterns beyond the awning's edge. Carlisle pushed his hair back from his forehead with one hand, rain-damp, and laughed quietly. "I don't think either of us planned for this." "No," I said. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone braver than me. We were close under the overhang, the rain reducing the available space between us, the golden light from the bookstore window falling across both of us in warm rectangles. I was aware of his proximity in every nerve end

The library’s floor is polished, and it has a granite fireplace and a comfortable, well-worn sitting arrangement. I heave a sigh, relieved that Ms. Lennie isn’t around to reprimand me. I’ve always loved reading and collecting romance books at home, so seeing these shelves just makes my heart soar. I start my journey inside, searching for cookbooks. Instead, I stumble upon a book placed in a glass cage in the middle of the classics section. I lean forward, touching the glass as I try to read the title. It’s Macbeth and Hamlet by William Shakespeare. The air instantly abandons my lungs when I catch sight of the leather-bound cover. It’s very old but still stunning.

I learned to be thankful and quiet. That acceptance made me hate Christmas. Love songs made my skin crawl. The lights under our tree looked like glass eyes. The ribbons on the presents were traps. Every year, the house tuned itself to cheer and I pretended to enjoy it. The twenty-fifth became the night when a new kind of cold touched my bones. It was the day the truth had crawled out at me like an animal. It was the day I had learned how much of my life had been decided by other hands.

2 Weeks Later Laila sat curled into the corner of her sofa, a soft cream-colored throw blanket draped across her lap as Laya leaned heavily against her side. The Christmas lights she hadn’t quite found the heart to take down yet glowed softly around the living room, casting warm gold and red reflections across the walls. The tree was gone, the ornaments packed away, but the lights remained—small reminders of a season that had changed more than just the calendar. Her phone, propped up against a candle on the coffee table, rang, vibrating slightly against the wood.

Before I could figure out what was going on, a tall and slender woman approached Dylan and me. She locked arms with Dylan and shot me an irritated look, asking, "Who's this?" Dylan answered before I could even say a word, speaking in a tone that made it seem like we had coincidentally run into each other. "She's Blake's girlfriend. She came to look for him." The woman immediately dropped her guard and curiously gave me a once-over. She smiled sweetly and introduced herself as Trixie Ashford. She was Dylan's girlfriend, and she had returned to the country specifically to celebrate Christmas with him.