Livres - Bibliographie

Owning a thrift shop isn’t glamorous, but it’s mine—my tiny corner of quiet where nothing weird ever happens. Until the dolls arrived.

The moment I opened the first crate, my quiet little thrift shop turned into something… unexplainable.

Porcelain and cloth dolls, beautiful and eerie, each with a presence that seems to command the room. They're more than antiques—they feel alive. The more time I spend with them, the harder it is to shake the sense that they’re not just watching me but waiting.

For what, I don’t know.

But I can’t ignore the pull they have over me. I should sell them, move on—but what if I can’t?

What if they won’t let me?

I woke up exhausted. Sore. Spent.

But I went into my heat alone, safely locked in my nest.

Or so I thought…

I shifted, and something cold bit into my waist.

A chastity belt.

One I never put on. One I would never put on. One I couldn’t take off.

Then I saw the note.

“Don’t worry, little omega. I’ve been taking care of you for years. I wanted to make sure this heat wouldn’t go to waste.”

I thought I was terrified.

Until I found the love letters dated after every heat for the past few years and I felt the fresh bonding mark on my neck.

And then I found the polaroid—of me curled up against a masked Alpha’s chest, his arms locked tight around me, his knot keeping me flush against him. Content. Marked. Bred.

I don’t remember any of it.

But he does.

And now?

Now, he’s finally ready for me to know too.

They told us to sit down. To be quiet. To accept the way things are.

We said f*ck that.

From a powerhouse lineup of romance authors comes DON’T GRAB MY…, a bold and unflinching collection of love stories that celebrate autonomy, resilience, and defiance. These stories champion women’s rights, women’s health, gender-affirming care, and LGBTQIA+ love—because no one gets to control our bodies, our choices, or our stories but us.

With zero fade-to-black and plenty of heat, this anthology is for everyone who refuses to be silenced.

All proceeds benefit Planned Parenthood. Because when they come for our rights, we come back stronger.

Taking her own life wasn't on Liliana's agenda when she planned her 3-day luxury cruise itinerary with her boyfriend and their two best friends. But when she witnesses her best friend sleeping with her boyfriend, she can no longer handle the crushing weight of her life and throws herself overboard.

She wasn't expecting to be taken by two monsters, a Kraken and a two-legged wolven-like beast.

Now they won't let her go until she gives them a chance to prove she not only wants to live, but live with them forever.

Will they succeed, or will they be forced to let their chosen mate go?

Being a dark romance author hiding my identity behind a pen name was lonely. But as long as I had him, I would be okay. Haides Anastos was the perfect man, my perfect man—even though he was a cold, stoic serial killer and a product of my imagination. I created him to be the grumpy match to my latest novel’s sunshine female main character but fell for him with every keystroke.

At least, I thought he was fictional until I woke up in his clutches and under his knife as he demanded to know how I knew his secrets.

What a weird way to propose, but I accept.

When I moved to Red Hallow, I was looking for a fresh start, not a nightmare. But this town has a secret—a legend that stalks its streets in the dark, hunting in silence. His name is Grayson Hale, and he was supposed to be my end.

I saw the blood on his hands, the bodies he left behind. When he pinned me to the ground, I thought I’d be next. But instead of killing me, he did something else—something that terrifies me more than death. He claimed me, then let me go.

Now, I never know when he’ll show up again. He watches from the shadows, his presence like a dark promise. Every time he returns, he ravages my body and leaves me breathless…and alive. I should run. I should leave this cursed town behind. But with every encounter, the line between fear and desire blurs.

Grayson isn’t just a monster. He’s something worse—a man who’s decided that I’m his. And no matter where I go, he’ll always find me.

Welcome to Red Hallow, where your darkest nightmares come to life…and sometimes, they stay.

Dear Owen,

I know you won’t read this letter because I’m destroying it later. But I couldn’t help but write it as I stared at the back of your head while you flirted with her. Every breathy giggle feels like a dagger to my chest. We were never together, but it fucking breaks my heart to know you don’t love me back.

I don’t understand why you despise me or why you singled me out.

Fuck, I can’t handle this. I’m in so much pain that maybe it’s time. You know, I’ve been planning it for a while now, but I was never strong enough to do it. Now, I finally think I am.

I want to let you know it’s not your fault—it’s mine. I should have ended this sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t. When I’m gone, I hope it brings you peace, like I know it will me.

Sincerely,

Kira

I didn’t mean for the letter to fall as I left class. I never intended for anyone else to see it. But it doesn’t matter now. Even if it gets out, I’ll be dead by sunrise anyway.

There is no war in Westbridge.

That’s what they said.

Right before they bulldozed the med tents.

Right before the tear gas.

Right before they made sure the cameras only showed our rage—never the reason for it.

I lost the person I loved because this city decided their identity was a death sentence.

And when the grief got too heavy to carry alone, I took it to the streets.

I didn’t come to fight.

I came to scream.

I came to mourn.

But then the gas hit.

Then the crowd scattered.

Then I met him.

Atlas.

A masked barricade in black armor. Silent. Steady. A walking fortress with blood on his gloves and something softer behind his rage. He didn’t say much. But when I couldn’t breathe, he was the one who pulled me out.

And he didn’t let go.

This isn’t the story they’ll tell on the news.

This isn’t a revolution made for soundbites.

This is survival.

This is resistance.

And the war they swear isn’t happening?

It’s already taken too many names.