DOOMSDAY BRETHREN DARK ROMANTASY COLLECTION

🌟 Fall into a magical world of danger, scorching desire, and fated love that can't be denied.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "WOW! …A very fast-paced story full of twists and turns…”

HOW TO GET YOUR BOOKS

EXCLUSIVE COLLECTION - A MAGICAL OBSESSION THAT WILL KEEP YOU CRAVING MORE.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "AMAZING. This book was INCREDIBLE! I highly recommend it!” – The Sassy Nerd Blog

5 addictive dark romantasy/paranormal romances in one binge-worthy collection.
A secret brotherhood of powerful warrior wizards, forbidden fated mates, and passion-fueled magic that crosses every line - set in modern London.

⭐ Reader-favorite series!

🪄 Inside this dark romantasy collection:
Tempt Me with Darkness - Marrok and Olivia
Capture Me in Moonlight - Ronan and Kari
Seduce Me in Shadow - Caden and Sydney
Possess Me at Midnight - Ice and Sabelle
Claim Me at Nightfall - Raiden and Tabitha

✔️ Instant download • Secure transactions • Read on any device

Tropes: Abduction, Age-gap, Cursed Hero, Enemies to Lovers, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Forced Seduction, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Royalty, Virgin, Workplace Romance

How readers are raving:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "…one hell of a ride full of high chemistry, which was all-consuming, and such a delight and addictive read. …action-packed story that will keep you second-guessing everything to the very end!” – Goodreads Reviewer

🌟 Inside TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS 🌟

Present Day London
Olivia

In the silence of my little shop, my heart thuds.

I can’t take my eyes off this stranger, Marrok.

Oh. My. God. He’s hot. Beyond hot, actually. Like rip-off-my-panties-and-beg hot. I can’t stop staring in wordless awe. His shaggy mane of inky hair and his neatly trimmed goatee frame a compelling face. Every inch of his six-foot-many body is a work of art. His inked, muscle-packed arms and his torso strain every seam of his black T-shirt deliciously. He doesn’t just look good, though. He has a presence so powerful that I’m almost afraid to breathe. His inscrutable gray eyes ringed by their dark fringe of lashes suck me in deeper. Everything about him haunts me.

Especially since, mere hours ago, I had the most erotic dream of my life—about him.

And holy cow, he’s staring at me as if he knows it. As if he’s aware of exactly what I look like naked, wet, and desperate for his touch.

The longer he stares, the more flushed I feel. The achier and more aware I am of all the places that make me female. I know, without him even laying a finger on me, that he could sate me totally and utterly.

Not that he’s interested. Men, especially prime specimens like Marrok, are never attracted to me.

I’m not beautiful. Unusual or striking is how people usually describe me. My black hair, super pale skin, and odd violet eyes make me look like an extra from a Halloween spectacular. I even dress weirdly, according to my mom, like a cross between a bohemian and a ren-fair reject. And I’m plump. Put all that together, and it’s little wonder my track record with the opposite sex is nonexistent.

Still, Marrok continues to stare. Nonstop. His mouth twists in a mysterious expression I wouldn’t call a smile. Something about the way he looks at me makes me feel as if he knows my every thought and enjoys making me nervous.

Our silence stretches on. It doesn’t help that he flusters me so badly I can barely form words. Around him, I feel like a tongue-tied idiot.

His opinion doesn’t matter. Forget this morning’s dream about Marrok. He’s an artist. You own a fledgling gallery. He has product to consign. Work it out…

My inner voice is pesky, but it’s right. If I want to keep the doors open, I have to stop mooning over this hot hunk and negotiate.

“Nice to meet you, Marrok… I didn’t catch your last name.” I tremble as I stick out my hand.

He glances at my outstretched fingers but doesn’t take them. “Marrok of Cadbury.”

What kind of name is that? His alias as an artist? Something he invented because he thought it sounded cool? Whatever.

I lower my hand and force a smile. “Olivia Gray. I’m interested in carrying your carvings.

You have talent that deserves attention. I could help you—while making you a tidy sum.”

He raises a dark, disquieting brow. “Money interests me not.”

“Prestige, then? Recognition. Like I said—”

“I do not seek recognition.” He steps closer, blocking me in behind the shop’s counter, and towers over me. If his aim is to intimidate me with his size…score. One of his biceps looks as thick as my thigh.

But what he’s making me feel isn’t fear.

I’ve never been so aware of a man. Of my nipples being hard under my blouse. Of my pussy being wet beneath my skirt. It’s hard to even look at him without wanting to melt against his wide chest.

But we’re here for business, so I square my shoulders. “You must want something in exchange for your work. Tell me, and I’ll—”

“You know what I want.” His rough voice sounds dangerous. Demanding. Like a warning.

Thrill spreads through my body. My reaction is as confusing as he is. “I don’t.”

After refusing to shake my hand, Marrok breaches my personal space, clamping his thick fingers around my hips. His woodsy, wild scent envelops me. Desire jolts me like I’ve been lashed by a live wire. His touch is hot. Unsettling. And sexual.

“Look at me,” Marrok insists.

When did I start staring at the iron wall of his chest? Why am I not telling him to back away?

As I blink up, my head snaps back. His stormy eyes capture my stare. And his expression makes one thing very clear.

My lust isn’t one-sided.

I go weak in the knees. Yeah, I always thought that was a silly cliché. But no. It’s the perfect description for being confronted by a man who’s the embodiment of my seductive fantasies watching me as if he’s plotting ways to get me naked and under him.

He’s so close. My head tells me I should be afraid. Or at least annoyed. But I feel only swoony desire—the kind that curls behind my clit and forces me to swallow back a moan.

“Marrok?”

“Aye.” His fingers tighten.

He hauls me closer. Our bodies brush. More heat crashes through me. Is he…? Yes, hard as hell.

Oh, god.

I raise a shaking hand—to ward him off? To touch him in return? I’m not even sure. But when I settle my palm over his chest, he’s like living, breathing stone. His heart hammers. A wave of dizziness hits me. My knees threaten to go out from under me. I grab his shoulder to stay upright.

He sidles even closer. Our chests brush. His warm breaths heat my tingling lips. My heart gallops. My skin sizzles.

Is he going to…kiss me?

📚 Step into the magical obsession that won't let go.