When Beatrice Foster returns to the isolated town of Knox Hollow to settle her grandmother's estate, she plans to stay only long enough to renovate and sell the house she inherited, but the towns sheriff has other plans. ~ She tried to pull free "Sheriff-" He yanked her arm, hauling her toward the cruiser. His badge flashed under the streetlights as he forced her into the passenger seat. "Get in. Now." 🐇

Helena Alton accepts a summer position at Wetherbrook Hall, expecting only to maintain the discipline of her student and the structure of her days. But she quickly draws the attention of Reginald Sutton: eccentric, wealthy and far too used to getting what he wants. What begins as pursuit and quiet opposition soon sharpens into a psychological dance of control, restraint and unspoken obsession. Reginald orchestrates a game that shifts the very walls of the house to bring her closer. The question is no longer whether she'll leave, but how long he'll let her think she can. ~ She gasped and twisted, but he'd already swept her off the ground in one ridiculous, showman's flourish. Her feet dangled, skirts swaying, while his laughter puffed warm and self-satisfied behind her ear. "Oh, darling canary" Reginald mused, as though this were all her fault, "you do make it so very easy."

In a future of surveillance and control a student's quiet life unravels when she saves a wounded soldier in the woods and protects herself with a single lie. That moment sparks an obsession she doesn't see coming as the cold, calculating commander slowly becomes fixated on the girl. As his watch tightens around her, she builds a fragile shield of half-truths to protect her family and hide her ties to the resistance. But each lie cuts deeper and she must soon decide how far she can bend the truth before they become the bars of her own cage. ~ She cut hard into a narrow passage, shoulder grazing chipped brick, the scrape leaving a chalky smear on her sleeve. The air was stale here, smelling of damp mortar and the sour tang of rain trapped in stone. A thin blade of streetlight knifed through the end of the lane, pale gold against the black, and she fixed on it. Her pulse drove hard enough to thrum in her teeth, rattling through her skull with each step. Then the sound split the night. A Highmarch car came in sideways, metal shrieking as its tir tore across the cobbles. It slid into place with brutal control, cutting the passage at the throat like a final punctuation mark. Update schedule: Mar 21, Apr 25, May 30, Jul 4, Aug 8, Sep 12, Oct 17, Nov 21 .

In the summer of '69, a flash flood delivers Dottie, a restless young student of botany and her friends into the hands of an isolated Appalachian flock, ruled by scripture and tradition. Among them waits Solomon, the healer, who sees in Dottie as a sign. A lamb sent by Providence. And once he lays claim, no prayer, plea, or protest will part what he believes God has joined. ~ You shall submit, as it is commanded," he growled near her ear, his breath hot and close. "You fight, but it is written. A woman shall obey her husband in all things." "You aren't my husband" she gasped, twisting violently, her hands clawing at his shoulders. His fingers dug deeper into her side, forcing her still. "Yet" he hissed, his mouth so close to her temple she could feel every word burn into her skin.

The heatwave of 1955 didn't just bring cracked roads and heavy air to Maple Hill, it brought Kitty O'Callaghan. Instead of the quiet start she hoped for with her mother, Kitty finds herself trapped under the roof of her stepbrother Johnny - a brooding mechanic who sees in her every trace of the woman he resents. What begins as aggression soon turns to desire. Johnny soon wants more than her fear. He wants her softness, her trust, her heart. And nothing will stand in his way. Not her tears. Not her defiance. Not even her hate. ~ He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, the quilt dipping beneath the weight of his knee. His hand lifted, brushing the stray curl aside, fingertips grazing the smooth line of her cheek. Then he leaned in, his breath warm at her ear. "Kitten..." His voice slipped through the quiet. "Wake up." At first she only stirred, a small sound catching in her throat as her brow drew tight. "C'mon now. Look at me." His hand lingered near her face. Fingertips brushing her cheek once more in a slow movement. Her lashes fluttered once, twice. Then her eyes opened, heavy with sleep. For a second she only stared, unseeing, then the blur sharpened landing seeing his face so close to hers. Her whole body jolted, shoulders driving into the pillow as if to put distance where there was none. Her legs kicked under the blanket, the sheets twisting around her ankles. Her mouth opened, dragging in a sharp, startled breath as a scream began to claw its way up from her chest. But it never made it out, he was ready. His hand clamped down hard over her mouth. Her eyes filled with instant panic. She froze. Then fought.