Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance POV: Third Person, Dual Series: Marriage by Command, #2 Publisher: Harlequin Hero: Sergios Demonides Heroine: Beatriz Blake Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: March 16, 2012 Started On: January 07, 2026 Finished On: January 10, 2026
A Deal at the Altar is one of those vintage Lynne Graham romances that reminds you exactly why this author has ruled over the marriage-of-convenience trope for decades. Set against a backdrop of wealth, power, and emotional damage, the story follows a pragmatic arrangement that quickly becomes anything but simple. A ruthless Greek billionaire in need of stability for his household crosses paths with a woman who never imagined herself bargaining her way to the altar, and what unfolds is a slow, emotionally charged collision of duty, desire, and vulnerability.
Sergios Demonides is very much the larger-than-life hero Graham excels at writing. He is domineering, closed-off, deeply scarred by his past, and utterly convinced that control is the only way to survive relationships. There is nothing soft about him at the start, and that resistance is precisely what gives his arc such weight. Beatriz Blake, on the other hand, is a quiet revelation. She is nurturing, intelligent, and understated, with a spine of steel beneath her calm exterior. Her lack of artifice, coupled with her fierce sense of responsibility, makes her stand out sharply in a world that prizes glamour and submission.
What drives the story is not just the marriage arrangement itself, but the emotional standoff that follows. Sergios enters the marriage determined to keep his heart locked down, drawing clear lines between obligation and intimacy. Beatriz, meanwhile, is pulled between her own emotional needs and the responsibility she has taken on, knowing full well that loving a man like Sergios comes with risks. The tension lies in watching two people negotiate trust when one of them has spent a lifetime equating vulnerability with loss.
What worked exceptionally well for me was the emotional development. This felt more layered and satisfying than the third book in the series which I reviewed earlier. Beatriz’s maturity grounds the story, and her kindness becomes a quiet but powerful force that challenges Sergios in ways no confrontation ever could. Sergios’s journey from emotional isolation to genuine connection is slow, resistant, and believable, which makes his eventual transformation deeply rewarding. The angst is well-paced, the chemistry is undeniable, and the emotional beats land exactly where they should.
What stayed with me most is how fully realized Beatriz and Sergios felt as individuals and as a couple. Their emotional development was layered and deliberate, with Sergios’s slow, reluctant movement toward a happily ever after feeling entirely earned. Beatriz is just the right dose of femininity, beauty, sexiness, classiness, and kindness that does the magic in healing the wounded soul of Sergios. In short, Beatriz was love!
Sergios begins the story as raw sex appeal and ruthless control personified, but watching him confront his own emotional limitations and choose vulnerability in the safe space that is Beatriz was immensely satisfying. This book delivers angst without excess, growth without melodrama, and a romance that feels grounded in a way that does wonders. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the wounded and commanding Sergios unravel under the steady presence of Beatriz.
Recommended for: readers who love marriage-of-convenience romances, emotionally scarred alpha heroes, nurturing but strong heroines, and a solid dose of well-earned angst.
Final Verdict: One of Lynne Graham’s most emotionally satisfying takes on the marriage of convenience trope. Rich character development, palpable chemistry, and a beautifully executed reluctant-to-love arc make this an easy 5-star read!
Favorite Quotes
‘Nectarios was very patient. It must’ve been even harder for him. I was poorly educated, bitter about my mother’s death and as feral as an animal when he first employed me. But he never gave up on me.’ ‘You were probably a more worthwhile investment of his time than the father you never met,’ Bee offered. Sergios surveyed her steadily, his stunning gaze reflecting the sunlight as he slowly shook his arrogant head in apparent wonderment at that view. ‘Only you would think the best of me after what I’ve just told you about my juvenile crime record, yineka mou.’
As she knelt he closed a hand into her chestnut hair and lifted her head, searching her oval face with brooding eyes. She gazed back at him with a bemused frown. ‘What do you want from me?’ she questioned in frustration. ‘Right now?’ Sergios released a roughened laugh that danced along her taut spine like trailing fingertips. ‘Anything you’ll give me. Haven’t you worked that out yet?’
‘I’ll take you out sailing tomorrow morning,’ he announced with the air of a man expecting a round of applause for his thoughtfulness. ‘Lucky me,’ Bee droned in a long-suffering voice. ‘Later this week, I’ll take you over to Corfu to shop.’ ‘I hate shopping—do we have to?’ The silence moved in again. ‘When I married you I believed you were a reasonable, rational woman,’ Sergios volunteered curtly over the dessert course. ‘I believed you when you said you wanted a platonic marriage,’ Bee confided. ‘Just goes to show how wrong you can be about someone.’
‘I don’t want anyone else seeing you dance like that,’ Sergios spelt out. ‘It’s too sexy—’ ‘But that’s how I keep fit—it’s only exercise.’ ‘It’s incredibly erotic,’ Sergios contradicted, wrenching off the shorts with impatient hands. ‘We really ought to be discussing this,’ she told him anxiously. A heart-breaking smile slashed his beautiful mouth. ‘I don’t want to talk about it…we’ve talked it to death.’
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Post-Apocalyptic Romance POV: First Person, FMC Series: Standalone Publisher: After the End Hero: Will Heroine: Cadence Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: October 07, 2025 Started On: November 11, 2025 Finished On: November 11, 2025
I went into Brood expecting a shorter, palate-cleansing post-apocalyptic novella from Claire Kent. Instead, I got a full, layered, emotionally gripping novel that reminded me why this author remains unmatched when it comes to exploring intimacy, survival, and the quiet ferocity of human bonds in the bleakest worlds.
Set decades after the asteroid strike that reshaped humanity, the story unfolds within the suffocating walls of an underground bunker where order is maintained through rigid rules, controlled breeding, and the suppression of emotion. In this realm exists Cadence, twenty-one, earnest, sensitive, and designated “too emotional” by a society that fears feeling more than it fears extinction.
Cadence has spent her life preparing to marry her childhood best friend, but a sudden decree from the ruling council upends everything. Instead, she is ordered to wed Will, a thirty-something newly widowed Chief, and the very definition of stoic restraint. Their marriage is meant to be functional, practical, dutiful. She is to “breed.” He is to guide, protect, and contribute to the dwindling population. But beneath his quiet exterior, Will is a man shaped by grief, loyalty, and a deeper humanity than anyone gives him credit for. And beneath Cadence’s supposed fragility is a resilience the bunker has never understood.
What unfolds between them is exactly the type of slow, emotional unravelling Claire Kent does best. The forced marriage sets the stage, but the true heart of the book lies in how these two strangers learn to care for each other in small, tender ways, guarding each other’s vulnerabilities, finding comfort in stolen touches, and building trust where logic insists there should be none. As their intimacy deepens, the sexual connection becomes a catalyst for emotional awakening, each encounter intensifying the bond forming between them. Will, especially, is the kind of hero I have been missing from Kent’s more recent works; quietly dominant, emotionally contained until he isn’t, and protective in a way that hits straight in the gut.
All the while, the bunker looms as its own antagonist, its rules, its manipulations, and the horrifying treatment of mothers and babies in order to do what is “best” for the system, and the chilling belief that emotion itself is a liability. The plot twist towards the end was one I did not see coming, and grounded the narrative in both tragedy and hope. I only wish certain villains had met more satisfying ends, but the overall arc remains powerful nonetheless.
Brood is everything I want in a post-apocalyptic romance; high stakes, oppressive world-building, quiet rebellion, and a love story that blooms despite the darkness around it. Will and Cadence are beautifully matched in their vulnerabilities and strengths, and their journey felt raw, intimate, and deeply satisfying. The emotional beats hit the right notes. The sensuality builds naturally. And the epilogue? Perfect.
Recommended for: Readers who love intense, emotionally intimate post-apocalyptic romances; protective older heroes; forced marriage done right; and Claire Kent at her atmospheric best.
Final Verdict: A gripping, sensual, emotionally charged dystopian romance that proves even in the darkest worlds, love can be the strongest form of rebellion.
Favorite Quotes
“Why were you talking to Grearson about me?” “I ran into him, and he was asking how you were and how married life was for us.” “Oh. How did you answer him?” Will pauses only briefly. “I said you were as good a spouse as anyone could hope for.” A shiver of pleasure fills me, temporarily distracting me from my crushing disappointment. “You said that?” “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” “I don’t know. I thought you might say that I was prickly.” His body shakes with breathy amusement. It’s subdued like mine—still tempered. “Of course I wouldn’t say that.” “But you think that.” “Sometimes.” He nuzzles my neck. “But that’s private. Just between us. No one else gets to know about your prickles.” For some reason, I almost start crying again. My body shudders as I hold them back. He brushes his lips against my hair again and murmurs something. I can’t hear it well, but it almost sounds like he says, “They’re mine.”
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Romantic Suspense POV: First Person, FMC Series: Slow Burn, #2 Publisher: Montlake Romance Hero: Cameron Christopher McGregor Heroine: Joellen Bixby Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: May 15, 2018 Started On: November 09, 2025 Finished On: November 11, 2025
There’s his Wikipedia page, his social media feeds, countless news articles, interviews, and photos. It’s jarring seeing the photos of him in action on the rugby field because he looks nothing like the man I’ve come to know. He looks feral. Ferocious. Frightening. Like he’s released from a maximum security prison on short-term leave only for his games. There isn’t a single photograph of him smiling.
J.T. Geissinger does it again.Melt for You is one of those rare contemporary romances that slips in quietly, makes you laugh out loud, makes your heart clench, and then when you least expect it, melts you into a puddle of goo. It is smart, tender, outrageously funny, and a masterclass in how to write a transformative slow burn with two characters who simply shine together.
Joellen Bixby has spent most of her thirty-six years blending into the wallpaper, a self-effacing copy editor who lives for routine, her Saturday nights with her cat, and her entirely unrequited ten-year crush on her too-perfect boss, Michael Maddox. Joellen’s upbringing has done a number on her: an ex-model mother, a glamorous sister, and years of subtle and not-so-subtle messaging that she is the odd one out. Her low self-esteem is bone-deep, and Geissinger paints it with painful accuracy, often softened with Joellen’s razor-sharp, hilarious inner monologues.
Enter Cameron McGregor: a tattooed, kilt-wearing Scottish rugby captain whose bad-boy image precedes him. He moves in next door, rocks Joellen’s carefully ordered world on day one, and never once apologizes for it. Cocky, provocative, physically unstoppable and yet so unexpectedly gentle, Cam sees Joellen in ways she has never been seen before. And even though the book is told entirely from Joellen’s point of view, it becomes obvious early on that Cam is a goner. His pursuit is not filled with grand gestures or declarations, but consistency, care, and a kind of stubborn devotion disguised as irritation.
As their friendship grows, so does the tension; beautifully paced, painfully slow, positively electric. Cam becomes Joellen’s personal trainer not to chisel her into someone else’s ideal, but to make her strong, healthy, and confident. Every interaction between them (even the bickering) is charged, layered, and purposeful. The “practice kissing” scenes are some of the sexiest, sweetest writing Geissinger has ever done, and when the story finally tips into full-blown intimacy, it is both tender and scorching, delivered with surprising softness for the notorious playboy Scot.
I loved Joellen’s relatability; her insecurities, her humor, her resilience. And Cam? He is the book boyfriend those of us who have had body image issues never knew we needed. His backstory adds emotional heft to why he champions Joellen so fiercely, and why her self-loathing wounds him in ways she does not understand. If anything, I only wished we had had even a little of his POV, because his quiet unraveling in the background is half the magic.
This is a story about seeing and being seen, about shedding years of internalized criticism, and about a love that was never about transforming Joellen into someone else, but about helping her become the version of herself she never believed she could be.
Recommended for: Readers who love slow burns, sunshine-meets-storm-cloud dynamics, body-positive arcs, grumpy-but-smitten heroes, laugh-out-loud banter, and kisses written like poetry.
Final Verdict: A tender, funny, deeply satisfying slow burn with a Scottish hero who redefines swoon. A heartfelt knockout.
Favorite Quotes
“Keep up!” Cam barks over his shoulder at me as I lag behind him on the sidewalk, breath steaming white from my nose and open mouth, sweat pouring into my eyes, my will to live quickly being extinguished. “Must. Stop. Death. Imminent.” My wheezing and staggering frightens a flock of pigeons into screeching flight from their perch on the back of a bus bench. Cam turns around and trots back to me. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, the heartless bastard. “Joellen,” he begins patiently. “We’re two blocks from the apartment.”
“Is it . . . okay?” He swallows. His blink seems to last an unnaturally long time. He clears his throat and offers a curt, “Yup.” “Yup? That’s it?” I look down at myself, regretting the heels. Maybe I look slutty. Maybe there’s too much boob showing. Oh God, maybe I was wrong about the color— “Joellen.” Cam’s sharp tone yanks me out of my head and back into reality. “Huh?” I stare at him, wringing my hands. Slowly and softly, holding my gaze as he enunciates every word, he says, “You. Look. Sexy. As. Fuck.”
“Promise me something,” he whispers into my hair. “What?” “No matter what happens with Michael, we’ll still be friends.” “I thought you didn’t want to be friends.” His sigh is a big gust of air. “God, you’re an idiot.”
“You were in therapy? For years?” “I worked on my head as hard as I worked on my body. Can’t say the effect was as successful, but yeah. Therapy. Seein’ how badly my mum was mind fucked by life, I’ve always been into self-improvement. I also read a lot. Everything, really, biographies to history to politics. I didn’t go to college—gettin’ through secondary school with a learnin’ disability was tough enough—but I do love to read.” He’s all that he is, and he loves books. Why, universe? Why give me this with someone who has a life on the other side of the world? I snuggle closer to him, breathing in his wonderful, warm scent, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “You don’t seem particularly angry to me, prancer.” He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “Beauty tames the savage beast, I suppose.”
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Romantic Suspense POV: First Person, Multiple Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Isaac Porter Heroine: Everly Cross Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: January 30, 2025 Started On: October 20, 2025 Finished On: October 30, 2025
Irreversible is one of those romances that refuses to fit into a neat box. Dark, disorienting, and relentlessly atmospheric, it drags you into its claustrophobic nightmare from the very first chapter and doesn’t loosen its grip until the final page.
Everly Cross’s life shatters in a single moment when her husband is gunned down in front of her and she herself is abducted by a monster who keeps his victims like collectibles. Locked away for years, Everly’s world shrinks to a cell, a wall, and the voices that comes and goes from he other side. When that voice belongs to Isaac Porter, a disgraced former detective whose obsessive hunt for his missing sister lands him in the same hell Everly occupies, things undergo a monumental shift. Two broken people, separated by concrete and circumstance, become anchored to each other in the darkness.
Isaac is the sort of morally damaged hero I gravitate toward: brash, volatile, wounded, and deeply human beneath those jagged edges. His childhood, marked by violence and neglect, has shaped him into someone who never believed himself worthy of love. Losing his sister pushed him the rest of the way into self-destruction.
Everly, meanwhile, is soft where Isaac is carved out of hard places; educated, sheltered, and gentle, finding herself suddenly thrust into a nightmare she was never built to survive. And yet she does. The strength she develops in captivity and the quiet resilience she carries long after her release form some of the most compelling threads in this novel.
The connection that forms between them, through a wall, shared trauma, and whispered truths and stolen moments is electric. This is not a romance built on grand gestures or tidy emotional arcs. Instead, it is a raw, primal tether forged under extreme pressure.
Once they escape captivity, the story shifts dramatically, exploring the messy aftermath of everything, the jarring return to a world that has moved on without Everly, and Isaac’s continued descent into vengeance. Their eventual reunion, years later, is explosive in every sense and exactly what I wanted; rage, longing, desire, and profound emotional recognition colliding in one unforgettable scene that will live rent-free in my head for a long time.
What I appreciated most was that the authors did not sand down Isaac’s edges or turn Everly into someone unrecognizable to make the romance “fit.” Isaac remains dangerous, volatile, intensely protective, and commitment phobic, a man shaped by his darkness rather than cured of it.
Everly evolves, but she never stops being gentle, empathetic, and soft-hearted. Their intimacy, especially the club scene, is a visceral, scorching culmination of pent-up need and suppressed emotion, but also a turning point that finally allows them to see each other clearly outside the shadows of their shared nightmare.
The villain is deeply unsettling, the timeline jumps are bold, and the twist woven into the ending unexpected and yet strangely fitting. I did find some of the dramatic reveals slightly over the top, but given the genre and tone, the heightened intensity works. What ultimately anchors the book is the emotional core; Isaac and Everly choosing each other not because they become whole, but because they recognize each other’s fractures and love in abundance in spite of it.
Recommended for: readers who love dark romance, morally grey heroes, trauma bonds that evolve into real connection, and stories that blend suspense with searing sensuality.
Final Verdict: Dark, claustrophobic, and scorching—Irreversible delivers a twisted and unforgettable romance between two broken souls who find salvation in each other amidst the most harrowing circumstances.
Favorite Quotes
I settle back against the wall, my hair a tangled curtain around my face. “Isaac…” I murmur. The name falls out effortlessly. I like it. His tone dips, veering into that place of vulnerability he loathes to idle in. “You don’t need to say it like that.” “Like what?” “All sweet and soft, like it’s your new favorite word.” There’s a notable edge to his tone, gravelly and raw.
Death is easier. Death is tangible. Loose ends are just tragic, the threads dangling forever out of reach.
“How are you?” “I’m okay. I took a shower. It was heavenly.” A smile spreads. “I can imagine. You smell divine.” “I’m sorry I stank yesterday. I’m sure you needed to take ten showers to eliminate the stench by association.” “No. You smelled exactly like I remembered.” God, I hope not. “Like what?” He pauses, a flash of poignancy lighting up his eyes. “Home.”
When I glance out into the sea of lights and obscured faces… I notice a man. I notice a lot of men, but one stands out. I’m not sure why he snags my attention as he stands off to the side, watching me dance. His arms are crossed, one hip parked against the wall a few feet away. Two long legs are tapered in dark denim, and a gunmetal-gray Henley looks like it’s glued onto him. Muscles bulge against the thin fabric, twitching in time with his stubbled jaw. The man exudes intensity. Something heady and almost…alarming. I can’t see the color of his eyes through the strobe lights and a cloud of smoke, but I feel them dig into me like a pickaxe. My breath hitches. Gazes locked, I squeeze my breasts then drag my fingertips up my chest, my collarbone, and through my hair in an upward, sensual glide. I bite my lip as I stare at him. He stares back, unflinching. Unblinking.
As I turn the corner, there’s a man leaning against the weathered brick, smoking a cigarette. I falter. Our eyes meet through the glow of an overhead streetlamp. Slowing my steps, I squeeze my purse strap, glancing around at the still-lively street as cars whiz by and people gather in small groups. My attention flicks back to the man. The same man I noticed watching me. He lowers the cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke up toward the sky before settling his dark eyes on me. He doesn’t speak. “Hey. I saw you in the club.” I’m a few feet away, but I feel the heat emanating from him. Something potent. I wait for his reply, for the sound of his voice, but his mouth snaps closed. Jaw tight, he just stares at me, wordless. A muscle in his cheek jumps as his eyes roll over me. He’s incredibly attractive. Stunning, even. My skin prickles with goosebumps. I wonder if he heard me over the heavy bass seeping out through the main door. Chewing on my lip, I take a cautious step forward. I clear my throat, peering down at my sneakers before glancing back up. “I’m Bee. Do you—” He turns and stalks away.
An image comes into view: two dark, stormy eyes attached to a familiar face, scruff along his jawline, and brown, disheveled hair. His hand strokes my cheek. Just a graze. A fleeting, tender touch. The gesture douses me in warm tingly peace as I slowly twist my head to the side and blink up at him, knowing, believing, with every tortured piece of my soul— “Isaac,” I breathe out. His expression changes. He glances around, face hardening as his jaw tics and his muscles clench. He straightens, then backs away gradually, like he doesn’t want to go. His finger curls around a lock of my hair before he releases me. I watch him retreat. “No…” Another wave of panic threatens, clogging my throat as I try to pull myself into a sitting position. “Come back…” I struggle against the new hands that reach out, holding me down. Then I watch, helplessly—heartbreakingly—as he turns on his heel and bolts through the open door, the image of dark-wash jeans and two black boots disappearing from my periphery.
A hand curls around my neck as he bends down, his teeth nicking my jaw. I shiver. Moan. Bastard. Regrouping quickly, I push at his chest again. “Get off me. I swear to God I’ll—” He snatches a fistful of my hair and tugs my head back, his lips a centimeter from mine. Then he growls out, the tips of our noses grazing, “What’s the matter, Chloe? I thought you liked it rough.” My eyes widen. Blood freezes. Lips parting on a sharp exhale, I gape at him, my fingers twisting the front of his T-shirt. Confirmation glitters in his eyes. His words. His voice. Then he fucking smirks.
When the knock comes, it’s light-handed but resolute. She came to me. Allowing no time for hesitation, I move to the side, flip the lock, and pull the heavy door open with enough force that it slams into the wall. Before it can fall shut, I lash out like a viper, grip her wrist, and haul her inside. Her gasp lights my nerves like a fuse, and I release her into the room as the door closes, latching automatically. The lion and his lone gazelle. She’s all mine.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance POV: Third Person, FMC Series: Convenient Marriages, #2 Publisher: Harlequin Hero: Jake Tarrant Heroine: Kitty Colgan Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: September 14, 1990 Started On: October 14, 2025 Finished On: October 17, 2025
Lynne Graham’s An Insatiable Passion is a delicious throwback to everything I miss in classic category romance; raw yearning, combustible chemistry, and the sort of angst that coils tight in your chest and refuses to let go.
Kitty Colgan returns home after years away, now an internationally renowned actress with poise and polish. But all of that cultivated serenity crumbles the moment she comes face-to-face with Jake Tarrant, the man who once broke her heart and altered the entire course of her life. Their shared childhood was marked by sharp class differences and even sharper emotional wounds. Kitty, the unwanted child raised by cold grandparents, and Jake, the privileged boy who saw something precious in her long before she saw anything in herself.
Eight years earlier, one reckless night changed them forever. Kitty suffered through the aftermath alone; pregnancy, miscarriage and abandonment, while Jake ran headlong into marriage with another. When Kitty returns at twenty-five, elegant but hollowed by past pain, and Jake at thirty-three, now a single father, the spark between them reignites with the force of a wildfire. Every interaction, no matter how barbed, carries an undercurrent of longing neither of them can disguise.
The heart of the story lies in their entangled histories and the devastating misunderstandings that shaped their early choices. Jake had never stopped wanting Kitty, but the circumstances of their past and what he believed then made him flee when he should have fought. Kitty, meanwhile, has never been loved in the way she yearned for, and Jake’s betrayal carved deep wounds that time could not heal. Their reunion is therefore explosive in the truest sense: two damaged souls circling each other with equal parts desire, bitterness, vulnerability, and bone-deep familiarity.
What makes this novel shine is the sheer visceral intensity between Kitty and Jake. Their chemistry is elemental; magnetic, primal, and impossible to temper. Jake, in particular, is the kind of hero I miss in contemporary romance: confident, masculine, commanding in the way that makes your ovaries break out the pom-poms, and vulnerable only when it comes to one woman.
Kitty is Jake’s Achilles heel, and Graham writes that dynamic with addictive tension. Kitty too is a heroine molded by hardship, sweet, feminine, and painfully susceptible to Jake, but also stronger and more self-aware than the girl she once was. Their passion feels both inevitable and combustible, and Graham handles their emotional unravelling with sharp insight and heavy emotion.
I loved the revelations that come late in the story, particularly the truth about Jake’s mother and the tangled mess of lies, shame, and misplaced guilt that sabotaged their young love. The cycle they were trapped in becomes clearer and more heartbreaking, making their second chance feel both that much more precious and deeply satisfying. And the ending… pure perfection. Seeing Jake and Kitty unable to keep their hands off each other with a baby in their arms and another on the way encapsulates everything this book does best: love that burns hot, heals deep, and endures. Tina, Jake’s daughter, adds just the right amount of softness to balance the intensity. The only thing that could have made this book better? More insight into the Tina-Kitty dynamic. I would have adored some more of that.
Recommended for: readers who love old-school intensity, combustible chemistry, tortured pasts, childhood-to-adult second chances, and heroes who burn for their heroines with single-minded devotion.
Final Verdict: A gorgeously angst-ridden, sensual, and emotionally charged second-chance romance; An Insatiable Passion delivers everything the title promises in spades.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Dark Romantasy POV: Third Person, Multiple Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Tagen Pahnee Heroine: Daria Cleavon Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: January 21, 2009 Started On: August 02, 2025 Finished On: August 08, 2025
“…You,” he said, lowering himself into the sofa cushions, “burn in my blood, Daria Cleavon. I will be ashes when I return. I will never be able to feel again.”
As is with every book that I have read by R. Lee Smith, writing a review proves to be a harder task than anything else. Heat is also the book that left me the most conflicted of her novels that I have read to-date, and yet, the story lives rent-free in my head, all 600-plus pages of it. When I finally reached the end, I found myself questioning everything I thought I understood about morality, about darkness and redemption, and about the fine, perilous line that separates them.
Set on Earth, and ravaged by a heat wave that triggers the alien Jotan breeding cycle, Heat weaves together two vastly different tales — one of savagery and one of unexpected humanity. On one side is Kanetus E’Var, the son of a ruthless slaver turned fugitive chemist, now hiding among humans and creating a drug derived from the human brain. On the other is Tagen Pahnee, a Jotan military officer sent to bring him to justice. In the suffocating grip of the heat, both men are consumed by need, one losing himself to depravity, the other battling to retain his soul.
Kane (Kanetus) is perhaps one of the most complex and disturbing characters R. Lee Smith has ever written. He is not a hero, not even an antihero in the traditional sense. He is a predator; methodical, intelligent, and terrifyingly self-aware. His relationship with Raven, the drug-addicted woman he takes as his possession, is abusive, exploitative, and utterly devoid of the boundaries that define love as we know it. Yet Smith forces us to look deeper, to see glimpses of vulnerability in Kane’s obsession, moments when his twisted affection surfaces in the smallest gestures. It does not redeem him, but it does make him unforgettable.
Raven’s arc, meanwhile, is a tragedy in slow motion. A survivor of addiction and neglect, she endures Kane’s brutality with a numb kind of resilience that breaks your heart. Her choices are born from a lifetime of abuse and deprivation, one that she actually chose for herself when she ran away from a loving home, and watching her transformation, from victim to something far more unpredictable was harrowing. By the end, she becomes as unfathomable as Kane himself, a testament to the way cruelty reshapes human nature. I was left reeling by her transformation, the insidious nature of which still stumps me. Tagen was perhaps the only individual who seemed immune to the victim complex that Raven was so adept at projecting, and I continue to question where exactly the transformation happened.
Tagen and Daria’s story, which unfolds parallel to Kane’s, is the light to that darkness. Tagen, honorable even in the face of his own loss of control, becomes the moral compass of the brutal assault that Earth subjects on his senses. His restraint even when it seems next to impossible, his gentleness, and the love that blossoms between him and Daria offer a desperately needed reprieve from the unrelenting darkness of Kane and Raven’s narrative. The juxtaposition of these two men — one capable of compassion, the other irredeemably monstrous, is what gives Heat its devastating impact.
Reading Heat felt like being torn apart and put back together, only to realize that some pieces don’t quite fit the same way anymore. It is graphic, violent, and profoundly unsettling. There were moments when I wanted to scrub my mind clean after what Kane does, particularly the scenes involving Raven and the mistress that Kane enlists along the way, but there were also moments of unexpected beauty, raw emotion, and philosophical depth that made it impossible to turn away.
What makes R. Lee Smith’s writing so exceptional is her refusal to sanitize darkness. She does not write for comfort, she writes to confront. Every moral dilemma, every discomforting act, forces you to examine the shades of grey that exists within all beings, human or otherwise. Kane’s monstrosity, Tagen’s decency, Raven’s survival, and Daria’s compassion all blend into a portrait of a world where right and wrong are luxuries few can afford.
Recommended for: readers who crave dark, brutal, and unapologetically complex sci-fi romance that tests emotional and moral limits.
Final Verdict: R. Lee Smith’s Heat is a brutal, unforgettable exploration of desire, morality, and survival. Devastatingly dark and impossible to forget.
Favorite Quotes
How easy it would be to take, he mused. To ease the stiffness from her small frame with his unrelenting touch. She would fold, he knew. She had resisted him in the kitchen, but she had clung to him in the end. It would be so now. He had only to fight her a little. But he was tired of warfare. “I am male,” he reminded her, and stepped forward so that she could feel the proof for herself. “You are female. The females come to us. The females command. Command me, if you want me.” Color flooded her cheeks and she cast her eyes about despairingly before meeting his gaze again. “I…Kiss me.” It was a start.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance POV: First Person, Dual Series: Chestnut Springs, #2 Publisher: Bloom Books Hero: Cade Eaton Heroine: Willa Grant Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: October 14, 2022 Started On: July 25, 2025 Finished On: July 29, 2025
She smells like oranges and warm grass, refreshing and comforting all at once. She feels like heaven in my hands. And she looks just as wild as I’ve always known she is.
I can now understand why Heartless has been hyped so much by fellow romance readers, because this book was everything I want in a contemporary romance: funny, emotional, sexy, with characters who feel real. From the very first chapter, I was pulled into the story of Cade Eaton, the grumpy single dad rancher, and Willa Grant, the sassy, city-bred nanny who upends his carefully ordered life.
Cade is the kind of hero who makes me swoon; he is a man of contrasts. At thirty-eight, he is mature, responsible, and a little rough around the edges. Life has left him emotionally scarred and cynical, and his ex-wife only reinforced the belief that his best would never be enough. Yet beneath that hardened exterior lies a man who is tender, protective, and deeply loving, especially when it comes to his son, Luke. Watching Cade as both father and lover is an experience in itself, because the same hands that manage a ranch with rugged efficiency also know how to be devastatingly gentle.
Willa, at twenty-five, is the perfect foil to Cade’s grumpiness. She is bold, irreverent, and a little wild in all the ways that shake up his world. Sassy and yet commitment-phobic, she is used to running when things get too deep. Yet she is also fiercely loyal and brings a light into Cade’s life that he did not even know he was missing. Their banter is sharp and often laugh-out-loud funny, their text messages brimming with sexual tension and genuine affection, and when the slow burn finally explodes, let’s just say truth or dare has never been this hot.
The tension between them is beautifully balanced: Cade’s dirty talk and commanding presence paired with Willa’s playful defiance creates the kind of sexual angst that makes every scene sizzle. But what makes the book stand out is the softer moments; the way Cade takes care of her, the way Willa coaxes him into believing he is enough, and the way they both find in each other the family and love they did not think they could have. I also loved how fierce Willa was when it comes to Luke and Cade, which proves to be Cade’s undoing in the end.
I adored the secondary cast too, who added texture and warmth rather than being cardboard side characters. Luke was adorable. No two ways about it. Juggling a kid in the story line is sometimes a hit or a miss and I believe it was handled beautifully here. And while the epilogue with Willa giving birth was a lovely touch, I did wish to see more of her family and to watch Cade and Willa tie the knot. Still, the ending gave me everything I needed, and left me humming in the right places.
Recommended for: fans of grumpy/sunshine romances, single dad heroes, sassy heroines, and slow-burn heat that pays off in spades.
Final Verdict: Funny, sexy, and heartfelt, Heartless is the perfect blend of grit and tenderness—Cade and Willa are unforgettable.
Favorite Quotes
“You’re a good man, Cade Eaton. Quite possibly one of the best.” Her voice is so soft that I barely hear it. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I drop my head toward her. Everything around us fades away. I don’t know how she has this knack for telling me the things I crave. Tracing my insecurities the way she does. Soothing the hurt she doesn’t even know exists.
“Red,” I whisper-shout. Her head flips in my direction, her eyes twinkling. Because, if nothing else, Willa Grant is a shit disturber, waltzing into my life and complicating it without even trying. Looking all pleased with herself over it. With a wink over her shoulder, she shoots off, running from me. And something primal in me roars to life. I chase her.
If Willa is the playground, I want to fucking play. Period.
I pull a drawer open and rifle through it to busy my shaking hands. My fingers run up against something silky in the drawer full of scissors, elastics, clips, and Post-it notes. I grab and pull and peer down into my palm. The black panties I dropped in that coffee shop all those weeks ago. Turning back, I dangle them in my fingers. Cade doesn’t look surprised at all; he just regards me with his Annoyed Scowl. “You kept these?” I demand, sounding petulant even to myself. “You told me you threw them away.” “I lied,” he grits out. “Why?” “Because you’ve never been just the nanny, Willa.” My chest lurches as I look back at him, feeling suspended in time. “You’ve always been more. The woman I wanted but wouldn’t let myself have.”
We’re just energy, and heat, and breath. I’ve never been so thoroughly consumed in my life. Never had sex with such an edge to it. “Mine.” His growl is downright feral as he explodes inside of me, hands tracing my back reverently. A man of such dichotomies. Hard words laced with love. Rough hands filled with tenderness.
When I open my eyes, Luke is staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What did you wish for?” I ask him, needing something lighthearted. Thinking it will be something ridiculous. Something frivolous. Instead, he delivers a gut punch. One soft cheek hitches up, and he glances back down into the dark well. “I wished for Willa to come back.” My eyes burn when I pull him into me, feel his tiny arms clutching at my waist. And my voice cracks when I say, “Me too, pal. Me too.”
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Fantasy Romance POV: Third Person, Dual Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Uyane Meoraq Heroine: Amber Katherine Bierce Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: September 12, 2013 Started On: December 19, 2024 Finished On: January 10, 2025
“If you’re worried that you don’t please me, you can be easy, Soft-Skin. Your body was made to pleasure mine.”
The Last Hour of Gann by R. Lee Smith is not just a book. It is an experience, one that swallowed me whole and left me reeling in ways I have yet to recover from. At over 700 pages, it is vast in scope, unapologetically brutal, and achingly beautiful, with a depth that few romances even dare to attempt.
This is the book that ruined me for months, plunging me into a reading slump where nothing else came remotely close. Every book I picked up since seemed to lack luster. And I know that I would never be able to find the same high as I found between the pages of this devastating book. Even now, eight months later, I still catch myself thinking of the story at odd moments, still yearning for another novel that could make me feel the way this one did. It is, quite simply, a masterpiece of dark romantic fantasy.
The story begins with Amber Katherine Bierce who has only ever known hardship. When her mother dies, leaving Amber and her fragile sister Nicci on the verge of eviction, Amber seizes what little hope they have left: two tickets on a colony ship bound for another world. But what promises escape turns into nightmare when the ship crashes on an unknown, hostile planet. From the beginning, Amber is the one who shoulders responsibility, whose stubborn independence and instinct keep others alive, even when those same people repay her only with cruelty and suspicion. She is a heroine who is far from perfect; stubborn to the point of frustration. But that makes her all the more real, all the more human.
Enter Uyane Meoraq, Sword of Sheul, warrior, priest, and reluctant heir to his father’s House. A lizard man. A holy executioner. A creature so disciplined, devout, and steeped in violence that falling in love with him should be unthinkable. And yet, Meoraq is the standard by which I will measure every anti-hero hereafter. Or every monster hero as well.
He is ruthless, a lizard man torn between his faith and his desire, bound by his duty and yet undone by one stubborn, brash, and impossible human woman. His religiosity anchors him, tempers the violence that simmers constantly beneath the surface, but it is Amber who makes him falter, who unsettles him, who becomes the one thing he cannot give up. Watching him resist her, crave her, and ultimately yield to the inevitability of their bond is nothing short of epic.
Their relationship is forged in fire, on a journey through a dying world scarred by the sins of its past. They argue, they circle each other like adversaries, their attraction at once a source of fury and salvation. And when they do finally come together, it is not in the neat, tidy arc of conventional romance but through struggle, suffering, and an intimacy that is both tender and savage. Azrael from Land of the Beautiful Dead may have been unforgettable, but Meoraq is something else entirely. He is a character steeped in darkness and yet when he loves, he loves with a totality that wrecks you.
R. Lee Smith is an author who does not flinch from depraved darkness. This book contains cruelty, rape, fat-shaming, and horror so raw that it twists your gut. The depravity of the humans who survive the crash, the vile selfishness of Nicci and Scott, the unspeakable atrocities Amber endures at the hands of Zhuga and the raiders; these are not easy pages to read by any means. And yet, the ugliness is what makes the beauty shine brighter and the story so wholesome and worth it. When Meoraq refuses to cast Amber aside, even after everything she suffers at the hands of her captors, when he claims her without hesitation, it is one of the most powerful declarations of love I have ever encountered.
The world building is staggering. This is not just the backdrop to a romance; it is a planet with its own theology, history, and sins. The revelation of Gann’s downfall; bioweapons, nano-tech, and an entire civilization undone by its hubris is chilling, and the way faith and ritual evolved to contain violence was both fascinating and tragic.
Meoraq’s pilgrimage to Xi’Matezh elevate the story beyond romance into something almost mythic. And Amber, the atheist who mocks prayer and the existence of God, finds herself crying out to the very same when she has nothing left. The irony, the resonance, it all leaves you hollow and awed.
There were moments I wanted to shake Amber for clinging to her worthless sister, for fighting Meoraq even when he had proven himself a hundred times over. And yet, her flaws are what makes her believable, relatable, and her strength and fortitude, what makes her worthy of the Sword of Sheul. Amber gives as good as she gets, her fierceness and loyalty are traits that stands out. She is not some idealized heroine but a flawed, scarred woman who stands tall in a world determined to break her. Together, she and Meoraq are not easy, but they are inevitable. Theirs is a love fated across galaxies, and in Meoraq’s words, Amber was the woman he was born into this world to find.
Do I wish there had been an epilogue, a glimpse of Amber and Meoraq years later, forging a life together after everything? Absolutely. But even without it, the ending is fitting, devastating, and triumphant in equal measure.
Recommended for: readers who crave true dark romance, with a mix of philosophy, horror, theology, and love all intertwined, who can handle being gutted and remade by a book.
Final Verdict: Brutal, beautiful, and unforgettable, The Last Hour of Gann is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of book, one that ruins you for all others.
Favorite Quotes
There were no atheists in foxholes, it was said, and she guessed when it came to lugging crates uphill in the freezing wind on an alien planet, there were no feminists either. – Amber
“It was a dream,” Meoraq said, getting up. “Dreams don’t mean anything.” He came over to her side of the fire and pulled her blanket back. His body was cool and rough and heavy on top of her, and it felt good in ways that sort of thing never had back on Earth. He caught her chin in a pinch, made her look at him when he entered her. “Dreams are only dreams,” he told her seriously. “This is real.” She came hard, kicking and thrashing, and suddenly found herself alone in the mess of her blanket with rain falling into her stupidly gaping face and Meoraq once more on his side of the fire, watching her.
“But we’re completely boxed in. If anyone bad comes, the only way out—” Meoraq unclipped his kzung and showed her the shine of its blade in the stormlight. “—is through them,” he finished, and flared his mouth to bare all his teeth. “Is that man enough for you?” The flicker of the storm made it difficult to tell, but he thought she smiled. And then she screamed as lightning struck the ground directly outside the window, sending shards of stone into the glass. The thunder that followed shattered what the stones had cracked; the window blew inward and smashed itself across the floor. Meoraq turned his head away from the wall of freezing wind that blasted in at them and was nearly knocked from his feet when Amber slammed up against him. Like a little fork of lightning inside his mind, Meoraq’s thoughts washed out to white. He could not hear the storm, feel the wind. For a moment—the very briefest moment, the very longest—he was aware of nothing but the press of her body to the whole of his, her hands digging at his back, the warmth that was her breath blowing against his heart. He could not feel himself at all, except where he was defined by her touch. Her embrace.
“I am not angry with you,” he announced, hoping to provoke her. “Lies,” she muttered, but she looked at him. Glared at him. And that was better. “A Sheulek is the master of his emotions,” he told her. “I have every right to be angry with you. I choose the higher path. I forgive you and we will say no more about it. Give me my mending kit.” She reached it out from beneath her pack, but only held it for a while. “I should have thanked you for this last night,” she said finally. “I don’t know how it is with your people, lizardman, but when it comes to humans, you don’t interrupt a girl’s crying jag and then expect her to be grateful.” He could not believe this. “Are you criticizing my behavior?” he asked incredulously. Her shoulders fell. “Sure sounds that way, doesn’t it? Damn it. Here.” He did not move to take the kit and, after a few awkward moments, she let her offering arm drop again. They looked at each other. She said, without heat and without warning, “I’ve never needed anyone before. Never in my life. I hate that I need you.”
He opened his mouth to tell her she was acting like a child and heard himself say instead, softly, “Do you think I would not call you by your name if I could?” She looked at him and away, trying to pretend she was not attached to the arm that ended in his grip. “I guess you think it doesn’t matter. I guess you figure as long as I still answer to ‘insufferable human,’ it’s fine.” “It’s honest, at least.” He sighed, opened his hand and rubbed at his brow ridges instead. “There are three words I could call you that come close to the sound of your name. Taambret, a disease we have that causes festering sores of the mouth.” She blinked, her brows puckering. “Mb’z, a vulgar term for one weak of mind,” he continued. “Amyr, the name of a kind of swimming creature that lives and feeds in the mud. And I will not call you by these names.” “You said…You said it didn’t matter what the word meant as long as—” “Not for you.”
“Yes. And stop making that face,” he added. “You need the marrow more than meat in these days.” “I’m not having any.” He snorted. “Yes. You are.” “I don’t want it, Meoraq.” “I don’t want to feed S’kot. Life is full of things we do not want to do and must do anyway.” He turned the strips of tachuqi fat, which were browning up nicely already. “Meat may keep the life in your body a little longer, but no one stays healthy on meat alone. The season for green leaves and grain is done. My cuuvash is spent. Marrow is what I have to give you and you will eat it.” “I don’t see you forcing it on anyone else.” “I don’t care about anyone else.”
“Are you with me, Soft-Skin?” he murmured, stroking at her cold, damp brow. “Open your eyes. See me.” They did open, and Meoraq let out an unmanning shout of relief, but they only rolled back and shut again. She had not seen him, did not know him. But she had opened her eyes. “Uyane Meoraq is with you,” he told her, and put his hand over her heart. “Hear me where you are and follow. Sheul, our Father, has set you in my path. So did you come to me and so you belong to me. Do you hear me, woman? You are mine! I found you, I own you, and I forbid you to die!” His voice, risen to a shout, was a thunder in the tent, a whisper in the world. She did not answer. The heart that beat beneath his hand beat no stronger. “I won’t leave you,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.” Nothing. She did nothing. Meoraq curled around her as close as his separate clay could press and closed his eyes. “O my Father, I cry out to You. You gave her to me and if I have not been as grateful as a son should be, I am sorry. But You gave her to me. Now…please…give her back.”
The wind blew over them, stirring the grass and pushing smoke in a hot curtain between them. Meoraq’s eyes on her were unblinking, hot as live coals. She couldn’t look at them, had to look at his dark blood on the sleeve of her last clean shirt instead. “I’m so sorry.” He did not reply. “I should have seen it.” Still no answer. “Please…” don’t leave me. Amber bit down on that until her lips stopped shaking, but as soon as she unlocked her jaws, it found another way out as a trembling, “Please don’t be mad at me.” He broke his gaze at last, turning his terrible eyes and whatever furious emotion was in them on the sky. “I’m not.”
Without speaking, he unbuckled his sword-belt. It and the hooked sword he carried landed on the discarded heap of his tunic. “What are you doing?” Amber asked, and hated the little whisper in which she asked it. “I, nothing,” he said brusquely, sitting down in the grass to unfasten his boots. “You are tending my wounds. And you can bathe me while you’re about it.”
Amber picked the cloth out of the grass and washed her face. It was cold. She dunked it in the stewing pouch, now the bathing pouch, and tried again, but the wind took away the heat before her skin had time to really feel it. She dabbed at Meoraq’s bloody scales some more; he couldn’t feel her or the wind or the cold. She finished cleaning him up, then made one last pass for quills, not so much because she expected to find them, but just so she could keep touching him. The tough old Amber who didn’t need anybody was dead and buried; the weepy, useless Amber who was left needed to be touched tonight, even if all he did was wake up and grab her wrist and tell her to keep her hands to herself.
Amber dabbed unnecessarily at the wound, which had already sealed itself. His blood was hot on her fingers, but cooled fast, darkening to black in the open air. The scent of cloves wafted up. Meoraq slept. She watched him. After a while, she put her hands on him again, stained now with his blood and hers, and ran them gently back and forth as she stared into his face. She wondered if she would be able to tell him from other lizardmen, if she ever met one. She wondered if he were handsome, for a lizard.
He wanted to give her back her people, as much as he hated the thought of having them back. He wanted to prove they were all dead so her grief would finally end, but he couldn’t do it without killing her blood-kin, her damned Nicci. He wanted Amber, the whole Amber, and he wanted her to want him the way she thought she wanted the cowardly, treacherous cattle who had left her in the grass to die. He wanted all these things, all at the same time, and the conflict left him in such a constant state of resentment and self-disgust and sympathy that he could hardly speak to her at all.
“Open to me.” She stiffened, staring intently and in tight-lipped silence into his eyes, but then she obeyed without allowing him even a token show of force, submitting as one already in his possession. He resisted the urge that swept him then, instead touching the soft skin below her brilliant eyes. “You are mine,” he said. It was early for these words. They were meant to come after, when conquest was done, but conquest, it seemed, already was.
“Don’t tell me what I mean.” But his spines lowered and he brushed his knuckles across her brow, then along the shorn half of her head. “How can you say you’re not mine when you gave everything you had to me? Everything you are…” His fingers scraped lightly down her cheek, along her throat and under the neck of her shirt, peeling it back from her skin so that he exposed her bitten shoulder. And did she roll her eyes? Shrug off his hand? Take even one step back out of his reach? No. She just stood there with her mouth slightly open and her girly heart fluttering and a hot glow way down deep in her belly and let him do it. “God gave you to me,” he murmured, nuzzling under her jaw. “Even when I did not know how to ask. He found you anyway and put you in my path. You are the woman I was born into this world to find.”
He smiled. “It pleases me that you want to be my well-mannered woman,” he said, peeling back the neck of her shirt. Ignoring her playful slaps, he licked at the mark he’d left in her soft skin. “But I would rather have the insufferable she-warrior I was given. So if you want me, put your hands on me and tell me so.” “What if I don’t want you?” “Ah, my wife, is that what’s bothering you?” He licked her again, slowly this time, tasting the strange, rich bitters of her blood, and felt it when she shivered. “We have only been married two days. Surely that is too early for you to start worrying that I might set you aside, especially since you have burned for me so readily thus far.”
“They are people.” “They may well be, but with no face, no scales, fur in thatches all over and Gann alone knows what else, they are monstrous people.” Uyane looked at him, head canted but spines all the way forward. “And you married one. Why?” “I had to,” Meoraq said. Lord Uyane snorted. “There had to be other ways to prove these things were children of Sheul. You’re a young man. You have the fame of your bloodline, the favor of God and the face of your father. Why bind yourself to a…a creature?” “I had to,” Meoraq said again. “We were married before I even met her. We were married before I was ever born.”
He fetched what tea was left in his stewing pouch after the humans had been at it and poured it into his new metal flask, then brought it back for her to drink. She managed only a few sips, grimacing at the taste, which was a perfectly good winterleaf blend. “For now, know that you are in His sight.” “Like I was when He let me get on the ship?” “The ship that brought you to me, yes.” He grazed the backs of his knuckles gently across her brow. “He set you on this path, Soft-Skin. Have faith that He will see you reach this journey’s end.”
“Say something,” she said at last. “God is in His heaven,” said Meoraq in a distant voice. “And loves me.” Zhuqa had said something like that once. This time, it was beautiful.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked quietly. “Something I really have known all along. Something that is one hundred percent true. Something…Something I could have built my own shrine on.” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t say no. “You’re an alien,” she told him. “Or I am. One of us is, at any rate.” He sighed and rubbed at his brow-ridges. “Our worlds are billions of miles apart. We come from two entirely different evolutionary trees. You have scales, I have hair. We have different skeletons, different organs, different everything, right down to the number of fingers and toes. We are one hundred percent incompatible. The only thing we have in common is a carbon base.” “So?” he said wearily. “So I’m pregnant,” said Amber, and was amazed at how matter-of-fact she sounded, saying it for the first time. “What the hell do you call that if it isn’t God?”
“You told me once that I was good at seeing evidence and, boy, did it piss me off because this is something that I really did not want to see. But men can only push themselves so far, Meoraq, and men with faith can only push so much further. All the evidence is telling me…there’s something else out there, pulling from the other side. I don’t like it,” said Amber bluntly. “I’m not at peace with it. I sure as hell don’t take comfort in it…but I’m glad you do.” He frowned, tried to look away, but Amber caught his snout and turned him back. “Because all the things God isn’t for me,” she said, “you are. Because of you, I see Him every day. So start talking, lizardman, but I warn you, you’ve got a hard talk ahead of you if you’re going to convince me there’s no God after He gave you to me.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything. He took a few deep breaths, then reached up and brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. His eyes closed. He bent and let her guide his head to rest on her shoulder. He put his arms around her. He did not rage. He wept.
“What are you afraid of the most?” He was quiet. Neck bent, he opened and closed his mouth several times before finally whispering, “Being alone.” She put her arm around him again. “I know I should be more worried about my soul,” he said in a quick, almost embarrassed way. “But I think I have one and I don’t think I’ll care if I’m wrong when I’m dead. What frightens me is knowing I’m alone now. When it matters.”
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Fantasy Romance POV: Third Person, Single Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Azrael the Eternal Heroine: Lanachee Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: October 29, 2015 Started On: November 23, 2024 Finished On: December 09, 2024
I am almost afraid to even attempt putting into words what this book made me feel, because Land of the Beautiful Dead is exactly what I mean when I say I want a villainous hero, one who is ruthless, irredeemable, and yet someone you fall for hopelessly and helplessly. The amazing thing about this 500+ paged novel is that you dive in and lose yourself in the story. No two ways about it.
R. Lee Smith is the kind of writer who makes you feel at home from the very first page; there is no easing in, no slow build to trust; her prose simply takes you in, surrounds you, and refuses to let go. She writes with such richness and evocative beauty that you find yourself in this delicious tug-of-war, wishing you could devour the story faster while desperately wanting to linger and savor every line.
This is perhaps one of the longest books I have ever read, and yet not a single page felt wasted. Most romances fit neatly into a certain length, or are broken into installments, but Smith dares to go where few would; into the depths of truly dark romance, giving readers something substantial, immersive, and unapologetically intense to sink their teeth into. Perhaps I am only now dipping my toes into the romantasy genre so many rave about, but no author has ever tempted me into it quite like this one.
Land of the Beautiful Dead is an epic, hauntingly beautiful romance that defies genre boundaries and lingers in the mind long after the last page. Set in a post-apocalyptic world reduced to ruins under the rule of Azrael the Eternal, the story blends dark fantasy, dystopia, and romance into a narrative that is as unsettling as it is breathtaking. The world outside the walled city of Haven is plagued by the Eaters, undead creatures that devour human life, and while humans eke out a brutal existence, Azrael and his favored Children reign supreme behind the city walls.
Lanachee, or Lan, has only known this harsh existence, but she refuses to surrender to despair. Driven by the belief that the Eaters must be destroyed if humanity is to survive, she undertakes a journey straight into the heart of enemy territory, i.e., Azrael’s stronghold. Expecting death, she instead finds herself offered a bargain; convince the most feared being on earth to end the Eaters, and in the meantime submit herself to his chilling embrace. This is no light courtship; Lan is insignificant in the face of his power, a human among an immortal race that despises her kind. Yet her brashness, stubbornness, and refusal to bow to him catches Azrael off guard.
Azrael is embodies the very essence of a villainous hero; ruthless, irredeemable, and yet impossible not to love. Lonely despite being surrounded by his own kind, he has lived for centuries in a cycle of mistrust, violence, and cold survival. His Children are malicious and vindictive, but the deeper the reader ventures into their psyche, the more the reasons behind their cruelty come into focus.
With Azrael himself, Smith crafts a figure as magnetic as he is monstrous, a man who hires a tutor to refine Lan’s manners, who is undone by the simple fact that she kisses him without revulsion, who cannot decide whether to let her go or chain her to his side for eternity. His obsession with her wars constantly with the demons that have shaped him into what he is.
The dynamic between them is fraught with power imbalance. Lan is uncultured, brash, and at times infuriatingly shortsighted, yet she becomes the one person capable of offering Azrael comfort, even when she does not understand why she is compelled to do so. He likes her rebellious nature, her refusal to simply submit.
Their kisses alone tell a story of need and vulnerability, and as the narrative unfolds, they become each other’s solace in a way neither could have foreseen. There are moments when Lan frustrated me deeply, and yet she is exactly what this lonely, scarred man, reviled by all, needs.
This is not a romance of grand gestures alone; it is a slow, grinding evolution of two souls learning to navigate each other’s darkness. Azrael’s centuries of regrets over what he has done to protect his undead, Lan’s unwavering yet flawed mission to destroy the Eaters, and the impossible choice between their loyalties form the core of the tension.
Told entirely from Lan’s perspective, the depth of Azrael’s emotions must be pieced together from her observations, which makes his moments of vulnerability all the more shattering. The sheer scope of the novel allows this relationship to breathe and evolve, and a shorter work could never have done justice to its complexity.
By the time the ending comes, it feels not just fitting, but inevitable. Azrael, the scarred and feared monster no woman would touch, finds in Lan a passionate, protective love that is unconditional. And Lan, in turn, finds her place beside him, not as a pet or pawn, but as his equal in a way no one else could be.
This book deserves all the stars in the world!
Recommended for: readers who crave truly dark, villainous heroes; sprawling, immersive world-building; and romances that challenge the very concept of love and morality.
Final Verdict: A masterwork of dark romantic fantasy; unflinching, immersive, and unforgettable; Land of the Beautiful Dead is easily one of the best romances I have ever read.
Favorite Quotes
“Humans are such a contradiction in their very essence that I find I can neither wholly hate nor envy them, even after all these years and all the cause I have been given. Your capacity for destruction, terrible as it is, is as evenly matched by your ability to create and to imagine. I could never have built such a hall.” – Azrael
“How many have you got?” He looked at her in some surprise. “Swans?” “Dollygirls, I meant.” “Presently?’ Lan braced herself. “Yeah.” “Twelve, apart from you.” She supposed she should feel relieved it wasn’t more. She didn’t. But he was watching and even if she didn’t know what she was feeling, she was somehow sure he did. To hide it, whatever ‘it’ was, she tossed off a shrug and said, “Unlucky number, thirteen.” “Mm. There’s also Chloe, although we’ve not entered a true contract yet.” Yet. Dicky word, that. Yet. “Why not?” His smile twisted inward and became bitter. “Were I you, I would say you’d ruined me.” “Me?” “You. The mark by which I have come to measure the living.” He glanced at her. His eyes lingered, dimming, before they turned away. “And find them wanting.”
“I can’t help but feel you’re trying to get rid of me,” she said, trying to pretend she was joking. “No.” His eyes flickered. “No, Lan. I’m trying to keep you.”
Sometimes, Azrael would be there already when she returned to the just-a-house, but more often, she went to sleep alone in the overlarge bed that was hers for so long as she was here and he woke her as he slipped beneath the covers and took her silently into his chill embrace. He always tensed when she kissed him, but allowed it, even on those nights he did nothing but let it happen. He was more comfortable with sex than kisses. So was she, if the truth be known, but the kissing came naturally when she was with him. The fucking was almost an afterthought for her, the full stop at the end of a long and complicated sentence, but for him, it was everything—reward and punishment both.
He lifted her like it was easy, lay her down like it was natural and right. He hid nothing from her—not the chill of his flesh or the points of his claws, not ten thousand years and more of memories, or even the ghost of the girl she knew was still standing somewhere in his mind with her shirt open and her small body ready to be bought. He gave her all he was and she embraced him gladly and brought him home. It was too naked to be fucking, too desperate to be lovemaking. Sex was supposed to be something someone did to someone else, but whatever this was, they did it together. He hurt and she hurt with him. She was lost and he was with her in the dark. It was terrible and beautiful, shining with pleasure and clouded with pain, and that was how she came, torn open and full of light.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Oasis Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance POV: Third Person, Dual Series: Standalone Publisher: Harlequin Presents Hero: Griffin McKenna Heroine: Dana Anderson Sensuality: 🔥🔥🔥 Published On: August 01, 1998 Started On: July 18, 2024 Finished On: July 19, 2024
If you were a man, the sky was the limit. But if you were a woman, there was a glass ceiling. And she had reached it.
Sandra Marton’s The Bridal Suite is one of those romances that manages to be equal parts sexy, funny, and emotionally charged. The premise itself sets the stage for sparks to fly; Dana Anderson, a brilliant programmer battling the constant underestimation of women in a male-dominated workplace, suddenly finds herself trapped in a situation with Griffin McKenna, the financial genius with a pirate’s reputation for taking whatever he wants. When business forces them to share a room at a conference and of all places, the bridal suit, the inevitability of their simmering attraction becomes impossible to deny.
Griffin is the quintessential alpha hero: hot-blooded, smug, and unapologetically arrogant at the start. His reputation as a womanizer precedes him, and his take-no-prisoners attitude in business leaves Dana bristling at every turn. Yet beneath that exterior lies a man who is all passion, intensity, and just enough vulnerability to keep readers hooked. Dana, on the other hand, is his match in every way. Smart, independent, and unafraid to stand her ground, she is not dazzled by Griffin’s charm or cowed by his authority, if anything, she delights in throwing his arrogance back at him.
What makes their dynamic so delicious is the constant push-and-pull between them. The misunderstandings, jealousy, and denial fuel the sexual tension that is already sizzling from the very start. Griffin may be used to being in control, but Dana keeps him perpetually off-balance, while she herself struggles to reconcile her attraction to a man she insists she wants nothing to do with. It is opposites attract at its finest, where both are forced to confront truths about themselves in order to see the other clearly.
What I loved most about this story is how unashamedly emotional and irrational both characters can be when it comes to love. The angst is sweetly realistic, because honestly, who remains calm and rational when every touch and kiss threatens to consume you? I feel sad sometimes when I read books of today where everyone is calm and rational about their feelings. No, life does not work like that, especially when you are in the throes of passion and uncertain of your place with the one you want to be. The humor threaded through their interactions lightens the narrative, balancing the tension with laugh-out-loud moments that makes the ride even more entertaining. The ending, tender and satisfying, ties everything together beautifully.
Recommended for: readers who love boss-employee dynamics, opposites attract, and sizzling banter that will keep you grinning as much as it makes you swoon.
Final Verdict: A witty, passionate romance with a hero to make you melt and a heroine who refuses to bow to him; The Bridal Suite is Sandra Marton at her sparkling best.
Favorite Quotes
If he hadn’t been linked with every beautiful female on the planet, it was only because, at thirty-five, he hadn’t yet had the time to get around to them all.
His kiss was hungry, hot and urgent. There was no tenderness to it, but tenderness wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him, had wanted him for days. For all the years of her life, and when he caught her up in his arms and took her to the bed, she sighed and sank down with him into the softness of the silk, her hands already under his shirt, her fingers hot against his hard, muscled flesh, her mouth open to his. “Dana,” he whispered, as if her name were all he could manage.
His hand closed on her blouse, tore it, ripped it from her, exposing her flesh to his mouth, his hungry, eager mouth… Somewhere in the distance, bells began to ring, chiming out the opening notes of Here Comes the Bride. It was the doorbell. They went rigid in each other’s arms. The bells rang again. Griffin cursed, rolled off the bed, and headed for the front door. Dana sat up. She was trembling. What had she done?
“Sweetheart?” Dana closed her eyes at the sound of Griffin’s voice. She heard the terrace doors slide open, then felt his body brush lightly against her. His arms went around her, and he drew her back against him. Don’t, she told herself. Oh, don’t. This is wrong. It’s wrong… “Dana.” He put his mouth to her throat, and her breath caught I love you, she thought, oh, Griffin, I love you. What was the sense in trying to deny it?
A Maldivian's Passion for Romance 