Is Sleep, My Child, Forever Worth Reading?

Don’t Stop, Daddy An addictive dark erotic romance of secrets, power, and forbidden desire. Sierra Blake was always the good girl. The obedient daughter. The quiet one who never crossed the line. But when she returns home from college, everything changes because her stepfather, Damien Steele, sees her differently now. And the worst part? She wants him to. Damien is powerful, dominant, and dangerously off limits. Married to her mother. Her protector. Her sin. He shouldn’t look at her like that, speak to her like that, touch her like that. But when he does, Sierra can’t bring herself to stop him. What begins as a game of stolen glances quickly spirals into nights of whispered commands, velvet ropes, and aching surrender. Every kiss is a betrayal. Every moan, a deeper fall. And the closer they get, the harder it becomes to hide. Because her mother sleeps down the hall. And secrets like these always find their way into the light. He’s the man she should fear most. But all she can whisper is… don’t stop. Was

Diane Mercer has the perfect life, a loving husband, a brilliant four-year-old daughter, and a beautiful home by the lake. But perfection is a mask. Craving the passion her marriage lacks, Diane begins a dangerous affair fueled by lust and cocaine. When her two worlds violently collide one ordinary Thursday morning, the consequences are far worse than she ever imagined. What follows is a descent into psychological torment, betrayal, and supernatural horror that spans years. As guilt and paranoia consume her, Diane discovers the terrifying truth: some mistakes don’t end with death. They only begin there. Raw, relentless, and brutally intimate, Rest, Honey is a chilling exploration of desire, guilt, and the horrifying prisons we build with our own hands. A story that will haunt you long after the final page, because sometimes the worst thing you can see… is exactly who you’re becoming.

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

After dropping the big news of my pregnancy on my husband, Maxwell Ford, who loves me to the moon and back, I expect him to burst into tears out of elation. But I don't expect him to harbor a slightly guilty look. "I'm sorry, Val. I'm still not ready to become a father just yet. Can we only work on having another child after a few more years?" Although I can't bear to part with my unborn baby, I still go through a medical abortion obediently. Three years later, I accidentally witness Maxwell holding another woman's hand as they pick up a little girl from kindergarten. With a wide smile on his face, Maxwell picks up the girl and says, "It's your third birthday today, sweetheart! Why don't I give you the position as the only heiress to my company as your birthday gift?" As I stare at the family of three walking away from me, I feel as though I've been plunged into an icy abyss. It turns out that Maxwell is lying about not being ready to become a father. He just doesn't like the child that I bear…

Mom always said I was dead to the world when I slept. I would suddenly doze off in the middle of class, while eating, even halfway across the street. My homeroom teacher suggested I get checked at a hospital, but Mom brushed it off with a scoff. "She just stayed up all night on her phone!" After that, my phone was confiscated, the lock on my door was removed, and every time I showed the slightest sign of drowsiness, I got slapped awake. I did not want to be hit, and I did not want Mom to get angry, so I started pinching my thighs, yanking my hair, even downing medicated oil just to stay awake. But when that wave of sleep hit, nothing could stop it. On the day of the final exam, Mom happened to be assigned as one of the proctors. I bit through my lip, silently begging myself, 'Just this once. Just hold on.' But in the end, I still couldn't fight it. The desk was suddenly flipped over. I went down with my chair, crashing hard onto the floor. My head struck the edge of the desk, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. Mom stood beside me, furious and disappointed. "Cecelia Thorne, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then lie there and keep sleeping!" I lay sprawled over my exam paper, my vision dimming bit by bit. Mom, this time, I might really sleep for a long, long time.

The day I decided to marry the heir to one of the East Coast's wealthiest families, my ex-boyfriend Jack Harris showed up in my dream again. This time was different from all the others. He was on his knees in front of me, sobbing until his voice gave out. "Nora, I regret it." "Won't you come back to me?" The old me would have softened. But this time, I woke up and only wanted to laugh. For ten years I thought I dreamed of him because I couldn't let go, that I was pathetic for it. Then my best friend, a therapist, told me a colleague of hers had picked up a very strange client, a man who'd sold off everything he owned to learn a form of hypnosis that let him control people's dreams deeply. That man was Jack Harris. His wife was Vivian, the classmate who'd bullied me for years. The three of us had grown up together, childhood friends from the same small town. He'd tormented me for ten years, dumping me a different way in my dreams every single night, all to keep Vivian happy. And now he had me listening to his confessions in my dreams. It wasn't his conscience turning over. It was so I'd kill myself, so my heart could be transplanted into Vivian whole and undamaged. What he never imagined was that I'd found out everything ahead of time. This time, I was going to watch this rotten pair destroy themselves, one rotting away in his dreams, the other rotting in a hospital bed.