Suspense Romance Authors Novels & Stories

“I knew it, I knew it was you! You ruined me, yet you’re here enjoying the high life!” I frowned at her, my tone cold. “Summer, how did you find me here?” Her face twisted into an ugly smile, and she tossed a magazine out of her bag. It fell open at the article singing my praises. “How did I found you? I knew your management style and your ‘miracles’ all too well! Who else could revive a dying business with strategies like yours?!” She approached me menacingly. “Zoe Dawn. Did you think you could escape just by changing your name and running to the other end of the world?”

Trigger Warning Hello Lovely Readers, This book may contain content that might be triggering for some. It is a dark romance with degradation, BDSM that doesn’t contain consent within the dynamic (I know, not something I typically have in my book). There are many instances where consent is very dubious and there is kidnapping. Because what fun is writing dark romance without hitting those tropes? I will add to anyone worried, this one does have a HEA because I’m a sucker for that happily ever after and I couldn’t imagine not giving Cass her happy ending.

My voice was steadier than I felt, pushing aside my fear. "Of course. She uses a pen name—Thea Blackwood," Declan responded, noting the wince I tried to hide. "You'd know her as the author of Forbidden Desires. The title hit me like a bell ringing in the distance. "The romance novel?" It seemed silly, too fanciful for the serious matters that occupied my life and powers. But I couldn't ignore its underlying currents of magic, elements, and foretelling; they had revealed truths between the lines, whispering insistently like rippling water.

I couldn't think of a worse hell. "Lennox, I'll get to the bottom of this." I nodded, unsure if the awful images in my mind would come bubbling out if I spoke. "You read the accusations?" she asked. I nodded again. The list came together in my mind: murder, abuse, hiding evidence, coercion of a judge, illegal activities including prostitution. Then it hit me. "The letter blamed me for Melissa Summer's disappearance. Who would have any knowledge of that? And prostitution? That has to be referring to Infidelity." I thought some more. "The writer called Charli Alexandria. It seems as though only her family uses that name for her."

“There are blankets downstairs. And extra pillows. So you can make yourself comfortable.” “I will. And I plan to borrow a book or two from your interesting collection.” His eyes are on the bookshelf in my room, which is full of romance novels. “T.L. Smith seems to be one of your favorite authors.” “She is. Her books are dark, sexy, and a little fucked-up. Kind of like you,” I tease, lazily rolling over in his arms. “I am so fucking glad you are mine,” he whispers, holding me tight. “I love you, Callie.”

How could I have known, Steven didn't prepped me, and this was my first real interview ever. This day has gotten even worse. My eyes widened and kept flinching, what other worst thing would happen to me now. I had a purse with me, but in it were my phone and the pant I wore yesterday. I couldn't put it on as it still had the sperm of the guy I had a fun time with at the club. Oh my, the way he touched my body and drove me wild, I kept wishing for more. We kept at it till sunrise, right there in the club's restroom. It was the most freakish night of my life and it made me wanting more.

When we got together, we discussed interesting topics instead of the catty or needy conversations about men and female competition that I’d endured in so many female gatherings. “Lisa is a typical writer,” Kenzie teasingly offered. “She’s a quiet people watcher.” Oscar raised a brow. “Is that so?” he said with a tone that showed that he was impressed. “What do you write?” “Nothing epic,” I eagerly offered. “It’s mainly genre stuff.” “Such as…,” he continued. “I enjoy writing romance thrillers,” I replied. “Paranormal romance thrillers,” Kenzie added. Oscar grinned and studied me with a bit more care than I was comfortable with.

I forced my brain to assimilate the words until I couldn't take it any longer. I loved reading, in fact I had huge collections of crime and mystery novels because they were my favorite genre, but romance and historical . . . anything? Count me out. There was just something about ‘soulmates’ and romance that just grossed me out and the fact that this book had both just made me hate it. I stretched and yawned as I reached for my bed. I fell on my bed, face down. I didn't bother with my purple and white duvet as I let myself fall into slumber, Kenneth's smiling face the last thing I thought of.

My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before I start typing the title. Looking for one of the following. My hands are sweating, but I push through, hitting the content box and starting to type again. Author here! This is going to sound like some crazy-ass request, but I’m at a loss, and I don’t believe all criminals are evil—not entirely anyway. I pause, rereading the line. It sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous. But I can’t stop now. I keep typing. So, here it is. I want to write a dark romance story. After many flops—not because of my writing, more like people just aren’t interested because my books aren’t different enough—I had another idea.

FICTION COME TRUE BOOK 2 Intro; Alessia Bellandi is a best seller dark romance author who has built her success writing about men who consume women whole. She writes about obsessive, dominant alpha males who are not just dangerous but attentive. Our reclusive writer lives a quiet life and she’s a socially awkward girl who lives in a quiet apartment that smells faintly of paper, ink, and the vanilla candles she forgets to blow out properly when writing. She writes about book men like a woman full and wild with experience which is quite the opposite of this dear author for she has never actually experienced life quite yet!