She could tell him that she was obsessed with him. That she wanted him. That for whatever perverse reason, she was crazily, improbably in love with him. But she couldn’t tell him that he didn’t frighten her. She couldn’t lie. He scared her half to death.

The Monster in the Closet by Anne Stuart is a riveting and intense tale that expertly blends themes of horror, romance, and psychological intrigue. Being the avid fan of Ms. Stuart’s dark and complex characters that I am, I found this book to be a great way to keep away the blues that hits every now and then because I am left with very little from Ms. Stuart’s impressive backlist of published books to indulge in.

The story centers around Sebastian Brand, a British horror actor who is as enigmatic as he is troubled. Sebastian owns a house that developers are after him to sell for them redevelop the property, but he stands firm, haunted by the memories that the house holds. His reluctance to let go of the past sets the stage for the unfolding story that brings into his sphere the unsuspecting Emma Milson, whose life turns upside down from the moment they meet.

Emma takes on the role of general manager for the volatile and brilliant Teddy Winters who is directing the movie that would redefine his career, starring none other than Sebastian. Against her better judgment, Emma accepts the job, knowing Teddy’s reputation for pushing people beyond their limits. It is also partly the safe and boring status of her life that pushes her to give in to Teddy’s demands, landing her in a situation more than she bargained for.

Emma’s task is to keep Sebastian out of the public eye, a job that proves more difficult than she anticipated. Sebastian’s initial coldness towards Emma gradually gives way to a reluctant fascination. The chemistry between them is intriguing, and their interactions charged with an intensity that keeps growing with every encounter, until the inevitable happens. Sebastian’s charismatic yet tortured soul contrasts sharply with that of Emma’s vulnerability, creating a dynamic that I reveled in.

Ms. Stuart’s portrayal of Sebastian’s traumatic history is both heartbreaking and compelling, making him a character you can’t help but root for despite his flaws. Emma being the bleeding heart that she is, finds herself unable to walk away from Sebastian, even when he is being his coldest, trying to do his best to push her away, especially when danger increasingly seems to stalk Emma, eerily similar to incidents from Sebastian’s past.

What I particularly appreciated about The Monster in the Closet is Ms. Stuart’s creation of Sebastian, who is deeply flawed and yet incredibly compelling as is usual for her heroes. Sebastian’s struggle with his dark past and his fear of vulnerability make him a complex and intriguing, while Emma’s journey from a life of safety to one of risk and emotional exposure is equally so. The passion between the two is all consuming, one that scares Sebastian and compels Emma to fight for Sebastian in every single way.

Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart and stories that deliver a unique mix of romance, horror, and elements of mystery.

Final Verdict: The Monster in the Closet is a masterfully crafted novella that combines elements of horror, romance, and psychological drama, weaving intricate and emotionally charged narratives.

Favorite Quotes

She’d never been kissed like that. With that much longing and restraint and carefully leashed passion. He kissed her as an artist might paint a picture, delicately, powerfully, thoroughly, so that all she could do was stand there and tremble in helpless response. She brought her hands up to touch him, and despite the fact that his hands were cradling her face so gently, the iron-hard tension in his tightly muscled arms was shocking. The moment her fingers touched him, touched the smooth, hard flesh of his biceps, he broke away, stepping back into the shadows, leaving her suddenly alone.

“The fact of the matter is, Emma,” he whispered, his mouth brushing hers so lightly that she might have imagined it, “I feel the same way. Angry.” He pushed his body closer, up against hers, his hips pressing against hers. “Turned on,” he said, and there was absolutely no doubt of that. “And quite, quite terrified of you.” With that, he released the iron bars and pulled her into his arms, imprisoning her against his hard, tense body.
He kissed her then, and she was lost.

“Stop fighting it,” he breathed in her ear, his own voice ragged, and she knew he understood her body better than she did. “Stay with me, damn it.”
She released the iron bars, turning her hands beneath his above her head. He clasped them, driving his hips against her as his mouth crushed hers, and the fear was gone, burnt away in a flashpoint of cataclysmic proportions as her entire body seemed to arch, shatter, and dissolve.

He covered her, sliding into her, filling her with a deep thrust that brought a cry to her lips. But her arms wrapped around his back, her long, beautiful legs wrapped around his hips, and she buried her face against his shoulder, against his hair, and her voice was muffled, fierce, as she told him what she needed.
He put his hand between their bodies, touching her, and she exploded immediately, her body convulsing around him. He’d gone into some dark, wild place, beyond sense, beyond reason, and all that existed was her body, her soul, her heart racing against his, her breath panting in his ear, as he thrust into her again and again as she clung to him, sobbing.

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