𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⌖ 𝙨𝙖𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣. ❦ | 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . ᶜʰʳⁱᵃᵐᵒⁿᵗᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᵍʰᵉᵗᵗᵒ Five years ago, Iris walked away from the wreckage with blood on her hands & survival on her mind. Loving Jasiah had been like standing too close to a fire-warm at first, until the flames started to reach for her throat. When the law finally took him, she mourned him like someone dead, convinced that whatever they once shared was too dangerous to ever be resurrected. To save herself, she didn't just leave him behind-she buried the love entirely, believing some things had to be killed before they killed you. In the years that followed, Iris rebuilt. She built a life that was quiet, more structured, & way more safe with her husband & two growing children. A life where Jasiah Syncere Brown existed only in court records & steel bars. Prison was supposed to be a long sentence, guaranteed that the past would stay where it belonged. But the past didn't stay buried. Jasiah returned home years earlier than anyone expected, his arrival shattering the order Iris painstakingly built. But he didn't come back kind-he came back ruthless, upending everything in his path. Old wounds ripped open, & the man she once loved, the man she hated, the man she never truly escaped, was suddenly real again, standing back in the same city, back breathing the same air.

He leaned back, looking at her face again before his fingers slid under her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "You love me." He said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "& that's the most reckless thing you could've ever done." His grip tightened slightly under her jaw, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind her that he could. His thumb grazed her jaw, slower this time, respectful. "Love doesn't make me weak, baby. It makes me more dangerous. Because I love you back, meaning I now have something to lose." He leaned in until his lips hovered just above hers, their breath mingling. "& I don't like that. Not having shit to lose is what kept me untouchable, now I got a weakness & now we gotta die holding hands because you ain't doing this shit without me & I ain't doing it without you. So, Naytiri, you sure you wanna bleed for me?"

Love can sometimes be 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐥, but the 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 of chasing your heart makes it feel so right.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Nour Delour doesn't chase men. She manufactures them. Shapes their desire with oils, honey, blood, and flame. In her Harlem candle boutique, every scent has a spell, every wick a whisper of old Southern rootwork passed down from women who knew how to make love feel like a fever. So when Rajah Thomas━the ex who ghosted her, walks by her shop window with his new girl on his arm, Nour doesn't cry. She gets even. She carves his name into wax, mixes it with her own essence, then lights the candle her grandmother warned her never to use: the 𝗪𝗮𝘅 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁. It doesn't just draw Rajah back━it 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘴 him. And this time, he returns with wet eyes, trembling hands, and a craving he can't explain. He's starving for her aroma, her skin, her darkness. He says her name like a prayer. Cries when she lets him taste her. Tells her he'll never leave again. But obsession has a cost, and magic always demands balance. As the flame burns lower, Rajah unravels. He starts sleeping outside her door. Sobbing when she doesn't answer. Losing jobs, friends, time. As for Nour? She's not untouched. She's sweating through her sheets. Moaning his name in her sleep. Bleeding from places that shouldn't bleed. The spell has tethered them by more than lust━it's welded their souls into something unnatural, and if she tries to break it, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩. Still, there's a part of her━the part that wanted this━that isn't ready to let go. Because this love? It's not soft. It's not safe. It's 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗹𝘆. 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄. @GLOSSNEILES ON THE COVER ART.

IN WHICH; In the haunting corridors of Westbrook Mental Asylum, a woman battling schizophrenia falls under the spell of a charming madman who exists only in her mind. Consumed by their imagined romance, she blurs the line between fantasy and reality, defending his existence with dangerous devotion. As her obsession deepens, love becomes her madness-and the asylum her battleground.

In this twisted romance, twenty-five-year-old 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲 thought her biggest problem was keeping her relationship together after seven years. That was until she walked outside one night and saw her boyfriend slumped in the passenger seat of her car, his blood soaking into the leather. He was shot dead, and left to rot in her driveway. Now, all she can do is plead. Plead with the burning eyes, cold stares, and the questions she will never answers to. She'll even plead with the devil she unknowingly let into her life. "Ain't nobody gon' ride for you like me, pretty guh. Rememba' dat." He whispers sweet nothings in her ear, staring deeply into her soul-𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 her melt into his chest. Caught between grief and suspicion, she leans on the one person she shouldn't-the man who swears he'll protect her, the man with a wicked smile and dark eyes holding much more than the tears he won't let fall. The same man she'll later discover pulled the trigger himself. And when the truth finally comes to light, there's no more pleading. No more tears. Just a gun in her hand and the taste of revenge burning her tongue. Because in the end... 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑.

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 : Haile and Kaiden's love story was one that would often appeared in her nightmares, it was one that allowed love and hatred to coexist, where resentment seemed to become routine until there was no escaping but it was also something that Haile couldn't stir away from. She was only twenty years old when she was forced to leave Kaiden behind but after five years and a trip granted from the universe, she slipped into his grasp and fell victim to love once more; attempting to give their relationship another try. "Growing up.. I've heard that grief is the final act of love. If I have to grieve you for the rest of my life, Haile, I'm prepared."

"𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙. 𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧."

"I don't know this man, I don't know his friends, I don't know his type." No amount of love could replace the past. And they had a lot of that for one another-love that is. The two child hood friends had bonded early on, especially over their love of music. Where one lacked, one had. Mariah was the writer, Kentrell the performer. It's only until a high school talent show that Kentrell performs a song written by his beloved best friend, Mariah...that his career takes off. But it happens to take off without Mariah. And he had promised to take her. Promises were meant to be broken I suppose.

𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.