Western Romance Novels Novels & Stories

WARNING : THIS IS A MxM work of fiction (MALE x MALE fantasy romance) Please don't read it if you're against same-sex relationships or came here to leave hate. I WILL read comments and respond to every bit of hostility, filth, and disrespect towards the LGBTQ+ community. You CAN and absolutely SHOULD complain about my inability to write, but I won't tolerate hate speech towards loving people. ONLY 18+ READERS. The book contains violence, triggering content, foul language, graphic descriptions of nudity, and sexual content. I refuse to be held responsible for short breaths, raging heartbeat and dripping panties. You’re warned too, gentlemen, I see you ;)

he interrupted. “Stop following me Jax,” I commanded establishing my authority changing the conversation because at the end of the day he was just a massive fan of mine. “No, I want recommendations on books, preferably the slow burns with two people trying to fight their connection when they were soulmates from the moment they met but they were blind.” I know what he was doing. He was trying to describe our romance but ours was a tragedy, not a romance in my books anyway. I huffed annoyed and played his game, by saying “I would recommend Birthday Girl by Penelo-“

**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

VOLUME FOUR: A SADDLE CREEK CHRISTMAS ROMANCE PART 1: FAMILY CHRISTMAS-RUSTLERS AND ROMANCE Dedication: This book is dedicated to my late mother, Dorothy Viola Hoy Lowery Semple, who always supported me in my writing and was always the first to download?and leave a review. And without her dragging me to church every Sunday and to Candlelight Services Christmas Eve?I would not know the important?traditions or the true meaning of Christmas in my heart.

Lyra didn’t sleep. Not after the vision of the wolf-god. Not after Rylan’s mouth on hers, his breath tangled with hers, his body burning against her like something fated and forbidden. Dawn bled over the mountains, thin and cold. The castle groaned with the weight of old magic. Lyra stood on the balcony outside her chambers, the wind tangling her hair. Below, the courtyard buzzed with activity—soldiers sprinting, wolves pacing, guards exchanging panicked whispers.

JASMINE I lay awake in my bed feeling restless and waiting for death. With my wolf not responding to me and my mate gone, I know in just a little while I will give up the ghost, cause as a werewolf, connecting with your wolf is important, and after finding your mate and you lose him, you can never be whole again.

​She hit the search button, half hoping to find hidden scientific articles, government conspiracies, or at least news about a rare genetic disorder that caused sufferers to grow excessive hair and howl at the full moon. ​However, her search results were instead flooded with rows of digital book covers featuring shirtless, muscular men and fragile-looking women under the moonlight. ​They all pointed to links for online romance novels. ​Nichole scrolled down her screen, reading the titles inwardly with her eyebrows knitting closer together. ​"Bride for the Alpha" ​"The Wolf CEO's Human Mate" ​"Rejected by the Cruel Alpha" ​"Entangled in the Possessive Lycan's Forbidden Love"

So I stopped holding my breath. Instead, I started writing. Every night after my shift, I come home, peel off the layers of hospital smell, antiseptic, sweat, the faint metallic tang of blood, and sit in my armchair with my laptop. The screen is my portal. My escape hatch. I write werewolf romances because they’re everything real life isn’t. In my books, the girl isn’t overlooked. She’s hunted. Claimed. Worshipped. The alpha doesn’t send a “wyd” text at 2 a.m. He kicks down doors, pins her to walls, and growls things like “You’re mine” in a voice that makes her knees buckle.

The pack house had a large library on the second floor that I had only visited a few times. After dinner, when most people were relaxing in the common areas, I slipped upstairs to see what I could find. The library was quiet and dimly lit, with tall shelves filled with books about werewolf history, pack records, and various other topics. I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for, but I hoped I might find some reference to Seraphina or the attack that killed her. I started with the pack records, looking for any mentions of events from five years ago. Most of the books were dry accounts of territory disputes, trade agreements and pack meetings.

The bedroom was a sanctuary of warmth and shadow, the dancing flames of scattered candles creating an intimate cocoon against the darkness beyond our windows. I curled deeper into the oversized armchair, my body heavy with exhaustion but my mind still racing from the night's events. The scent of pine and leather mingled with the familiar musk of my mates, grounding me even as memories of Lexa's fear echoed through our bond.