Cedric needs medicine—better yet, a f--king miracle—but given that we’re trapped in Neverland, I’m forced to turn to our enemies for help, the ones we’ve been slaughtering at any and every opportunity: Neverland’s natives. It’s suicide, but if death is what I risk to give him a chance, so be it. Only… they don’t kill me. One of them saves me. I may be her prisoner, but there’s something more between us, something as forbidden as it is intoxicating. And as the lines between love and hate grow more blurred by the hour, I’m faced with an impossible choice.

One more kill - and then, I'm free. If only it were that simple. Ancient curses call for desperate measures, and to escape mine, I've become a murderer. But "freedom" trades one chain for another, and I'll be damned if I'm marrying that filthy sorcerer. Unfortunately, a girl who turns into a dragon doesn’t have many options. Even if I did, who could love a monster?

The Hells of Notre Dame is a sapphic retelling of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the first book in The Phantom of Notre Dame series: where Hunchback collides with The Phantom of the Opera in the streets of gothic Paris. Perfect for fans of the musicals and classic novels alike, these LGBT+ dark fantasy romances are as steamy as they are twisted, and are intended for a mature adult audience.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His belly full of laughter, his life full of joy. Until one day, something changed; stripped his innocence away. The hole inside making space for the devil to come and play.

Emilia and her twin sister Vittoria are streghe - witches who live secretly among humans, avoiding notice and persecution. One night, Vittoria misses dinner service at the family's renowned Sicilian restaurant. Emilia soon finds the body of her beloved twin...desecrated beyond belief. Devastated, Emilia sets out to find her sister's killer and to seek vengeance at any cost - even if it means using dark magic that's been long forbidden. Then, Emilia meets Wrath, one of the Wicked-princes of Hell she has been warned against in tales since she was a child.

One, two, I'm coming for you. She's my obsession. Three, four, kneel on the floor. I want to possess her in every way. Five, six, I'm up to my old tricks. She knows me as The Portland Serial K!ll3r. Seven, eight, lay in wait. Little does she know I'm watching her. Nine, ten, never to be seen again. Welcome to your worst nightmare, Little Lamb. Who am I? Let me introduce myself. I'm Death. And I have found my Queen.

I used to have big dreams: finish college, make beautiful art, all while taking over my dad’s business. He wanted a legacy, and I wanted to give it to him. But his illness wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was his sudden need to keep me locked up in our mansion, safe and isolated. I want more from life, but could only spend my days waiting. Until one night, I came face-to-face with a street biker from a world far different from mine. What starts as him stalking me, quickly spirals into something deeper, and more deadly.

One heroic act damned me for eternity. With a name like Tor, I should have been a hero, just like my father and twin. Turns out I’m not. Not even close. Instead I’m the very thing we hunted. A depraved monster. I thought there was no escaping the curse. No hope for a future. And then I met my mate in the unlikeliest of places: Blackwood Asylum. A place for criminals. Power-hungry madmen. Supernatural outcasts. And her, the curvaceous writer who sees ghosts.

The stories were all wrong—Hook was never the villain. For two centuries, all of the Darling women have disappeared on their 18th birthday. Sometimes they’re gone for only a day, some a week or a month. But they always return broken. Now, on the afternoon of my 18th birthday, my mother is running around the house making sure all the windows are barred and the doors locked. But it’s pointless. Because when night falls, he comes for me. And this time, the Never King and the Lost Boys aren’t willing to let me go.

What’s a broke tea witch to do when she’s about to lose her beloved café? No idea, but chugging magic mojitos and drunk-summoning the Devil was definitely the wrong call. Now, I’m stuck with the house guest from Hell—literally—and we couldn’t be more opposite: a homebody who brews healing teas and reads romance novels to her cats versus a sexy-as-sin playboy with a pitchfork tattoo on his butt and a fondness for public day-drinking. In the nude. Ergo, the pitchfork discovery.