Helena's Halloween Havoc

I left my husband two years ago.

Unfortunately for me, Damien Blackcrow doesn't believe in things like divorce.

Or boundaries.
Or laws.
Or sanity, honestly.

That's why we worked so well together.

Until we didn't.

Until he got caught in a compromising position.

The problem is Damien Blackcrow never understood what the word leave meant.

Not when we were married.
Not when I moved out.
Not when I filed the papers.
And definitely not now.

The bigger problem?

The Crimson Saints MC practically built Crimson Bay's darker corners in blood. People here know when to look away. They know which roads not to drive after midnight.

And Damien?

My ex-husband-the club's enforcer-keeps showing up looking at me like divorce was just another word for foreplay.

Which would be less of a problem if his role didn't come with access to all kinds of extracurricular activities.

Like stalking.

Black roses on my porch.
Masked men outside my windows.
Dead women turning up around town.

Now Halloween week in Crimson Bay feels less like a holiday and more like a countdown, and the more blood spilled between us, the harder it becomes to tell whether I'm running from my ex-husband...

or remembering why I married him in the first place.

Note from Graves
This isn't a sweet love story. It's a campy Halloween nightmare full of obsession, biker violence, stalking, push and pull, and a woman celebrating her favorite holiday with a body count.