Halloween Romance Books Novels & Stories

I’d made the right choice when I booked the reservation. I kicked off my heels, dropped my suitcase to the side and sank into the bed. The sheets were cool and cozy and they welcomed me. My body, which was heavy with exhaustion, sank deeper as I spread my arms and legs. Finally, I was going to get some rest. After resting a little, I dragged myself to the shower. Steam clung to my skin when I came out and I slipped into one of the silk robes I'd packed. The robe clung short against my thighs, sleeveless and nearly transparent—a daring gift from Hannah. I considered changing out of it, but with no one expected at my door tonight, I let the thought slip away.

**Trigger warnings for this book: this is a dark romance werewolf story containing gaslighting, dub-con, assault, rape, violence, bondage, in a Reverse Harem scenario, involving bxg and bxb group sex scenes. There is a chapter separately marked with a trigger warning that features a pregnancy loss.** The River House, The Day After the Funeral

Yara half lay down on the sofa with her legs still hanging on the floor. "I will tell your mom if you break up with your boyfriend again." "Don't care," Yara replied nonchalantly. "I will be teased. That’s it." "When did you, Ra, want to have a proper relationship, which would lead to marriage?" "Later when I meet my soul mate, Om. Right now I am doing a lot of charity." "What deeds?" Ranu asked confused. "Take care of people's mate, Om." "Oh my... I have one nephew and two nieces, how come you be the only one who is insane."

He offered and handed his pill to me, bringing a bright smile to my face. "Thanks bro." I thanked him, and he winked, rushing out. That was how he saved me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my secret would be exposed. This was a dangerous path to tread—the type that would bring disaster and death at the end. It was that type of romance that has no happy ending. I knew this, and I should stay away. The best option was to kill her and save myself from falling harder, but my powers are weak in front of her.

’ The noxious craving of death isn’t new nor old, it’s deceptive as the month of Halloween. October is a wicked time of the year for her and she contemplated, ‘Why?’ but couldn’t follow a conclusion. Cassy abhorred the young evening and the civilians on the street who’re busy preparing for the parade to celebrate the supernatural forces which existed thousand years ago. It included even her new wife, Andrea. They got married last week, after having a relationship of over five years but instead of going on a honeymoon, Andrea preferred to organize a bash for stupid vampire witches’ lovers at her father’s place. It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and ho

“Why, Ms. Thalia?” In a wave of her hand, the chains in Dorrien Ronan’s hand now plummeted onto the floor. “There is always a right timing for everything.” *** Finally, Samhain has come. October 31 and it was the hallowed day for the creatures of the night. The Hunter’s Moon was vibrantly glowing on Halloween Night—Samhain for vampires and werewolves, and even for the Blood Witches also known as the Heathens. Rozelyn managed to recover soon from that heart-stopping situation days ago; less than a day, to be frank.

“You said you’d give me space.” “I am.” I gesture between us. “This isn’t space.” “It is,” he says. “You stopped. I didn’t make you.” I drag a hand over my face. “This doesn’t feel like a choice.” “It is.” “Then why does it feel like I’m being pulled back every time I try to walk away?” “The bond doesn’t like distance,” he says. I let out a dry laugh. “Of course it doesn’t.” “It’s not me.” “Good to know you’re not stalking me. Just your supernatural connection doing the work.”

Angel Caierre folded his glowing arms over his tiny chest. “Cute?” Spiky-Horn Caierre barked out a laugh that sounded like metal scraping stone. “Nothing about this is cute. This is a disaster, a cosmic tragedy. A romance doomed from the start and he is way too dumb to realize it.” “I am not dumb!” Caierre snapped. “Sweetheart, you literally asked if ‘I can’t deny you’ was a confession. That’s like the most romantic line ever. Even babies understand that.” Angel Caierre pointed a tiny glowing finger at him.

I knew I shouldn't be here in his arms, and shouldn't be enjoying every second of this forbidden moment. But I couldn't stop myself. He set me down on the bed and hovered over me, his eyes were dark as usual, cold and distant. These were the same eyes I claimed to hate. The same eyes I'd fantasized about gouging out of his perfect face. The same eyes that usually looked right through me, that glared at me with cold indifference whenever our paths crossed. He dropped onto the bed beside me, and I found myself staring at the chest of the person I was supposed to hate more than anyone in the world. The person I'd spent years wishing would get hit by a car, praying would just disappear from my l

Hart shrugged off his tweed jacket and loosened his tie, casual in a way that made her heart thrum. “I suppose we’ll have to wait it out.” Fallon sat across from him, legs crossed tightly as the firelight danced shadows across the Persian rug. She shouldn’t have noticed the way his gaze flicked down to her thighs. She shouldn’t have noticed the row of books tucked behind the encyclopedias leather bound, aged spines, titles in French. Erotica. Hart followed her gaze. Said nothing. But when she rose to touch the spines, tracing one book titled La Petite Mort, he spoke low and commanding.