Silk Daffodil Novels & Stories

Clara James is nineteen years old. From the outside, her life looks rich and perfect. Inside, it is a silk wrapped hell. When she was ten, her world fell apart after her father cheated on her mother. Six years ago, her mother died in a car accident, forcing Clara to move in with her father… and that was where the real nightmare began. After her father married Emilia Cole, Clara’s life turned into an open war. Emilia did not only destroy her childhood, or leave her scarred by the trauma of harassment attempts. She made abuse and humiliation a daily routine. Still, Clara did not break. She did not bow. Everything changed when the wrong man entered her life at the worst possible time. Adrian Cole, Emilia’s brother. He is older. Cold. Distant. A criminal investigator hunting a serial killer roaming the city streets. Dangerous to get close to. Forbidden to touch. Yet he was the only one who held Clara when she collapsed, cleaned her wounds with his own hands, and gave her a sense of safety she had never known. But how can she trust a man who belongs to the family that tried to destroy her? Especially after Adrian uncovers a deadly betrayal inside his case… one that could drag them both into the abyss. Clara loves him to the edge of ruin. But when the enemy is closer than anyone imagines… Does love save, or does it kill?

“He pressed me to the wall with one hand tight around my throat, the other sliding beneath the thin silk clinging to my skin. I should’ve been begging for help. Instead, my knees went weak when he leaned in, his mouth hot against my ear. ‘Does it hurt, darling?’ he whispered. I shook my head, even as his fingers left bruises. ‘Good. I like it when you take it.’ God, I hated him. God, I wanted him to never let go.” A DARK, EROTIC TALE OF OBSESSION, HUMILIATION, AND HUNGER. They called him the Devil, a sadist with a crooked smile and hands built for breaking men. In the underworld’s most perverse auction, Luca Ruelle is nothing but trembling prey, sold for a price no soul should fetch. Silk-wrapped, bare, choking on shame and smoke, he should be praying for rescue. But Kain Astor doesn’t rescue. He claims, corrupts, and devours. He teaches Luca how it feels to be owned. How pain can bloom where fear lives. How pleasure is just another kind of cruelty. Every command is a dare, every punishment a promise. Under Kain’s hands, Luca learns the exquisite agony of surrender, and the terror of how badly he needs it. He should be fighting for his life. Instead, he’s sinking to his knees, eyes glazed, lips parted, whispering the one word that seals his fate— “Please.”

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

"Do you want me to stop?" Darlington growled, his thick cock buried deep inside her, stretching her with slow, deliberate thrusts that made her tremble. "No," Freya moaned, legs wrapped tight around his waist, hips rocking desperately to take him deeper. "God, no... harder." She was supposed to seduce him. Spy on him. Steal his secrets to save her dying mother. But the city's most ruthless billionaire, Darlington Knight, saw right through her from the moment she walked into his world. Now he's the one claiming her—pinning her against silk sheets, against cold glass walls, in the dark heat of his penthouse—fucking her senseless until she forgets her mission, forgets her lies, forgets everything but the way he owns her body. Every touch is dangerous. Every kiss a threat. He knows she's hiding something... and he's going to make her beg to confess—on her knees, breathless, dripping for him. Freya came to betray him. Instead, she's falling—hard, fast, and filthy—into a passion that could ruin them both. Even though Darlington might have his secrets, will he still see her the same way after finding out she was just a spy sent to seduce him?"

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

She thought divorce would set her free. Instead, it led her straight into hell and the devil himself, Sebastian Sterling. He offered her salvation. What she found was sin. --- An emotional, dark romance about temptation, control, and the price of survival. -- After ending her ten-year marriage to an unfaithful husband, Rosemary Seo wants nothing more than peace. No more manipulation. No more control. Just a chance to start over with her daughter — even if it means living in a cheap motel and scraping together every cent. But when every company in town suddenly rejects her job applications, Rosie realizes she’s trapped once again — not by love, but by power. Her ex-husband’s influence stretches further than she imagined… And her only hope lies in the hands of his estranged younger brother — Sebastian Edward Sterling, a man with a reputation as dangerous as his charm. Sebastian offers her a way out. A job. A chance to rebuild. But his terms come wrapped in silk and sin — and soon, Rosie finds herself drawn into his world of temptation, control, and forbidden pleasure. “You can be my personal assistant,” he said slowly. “Take care of my daily needs.” Then his voice softened further, dangerous and intimate. “Especially in bed.” He calls it a job. She calls it a deal with the devil. Caught between survival and surrender, Rosie must decide — Will she tame the devil who wants to own her, or become his next obsession?

Maeve Sinclair learned the hard way that love can be the cruelest of prisons. After years of running from her traumatic past and the three men who never stopped loving her, she is kidnapped and wakes up tied up in a presidential suite on a luxurious cruise ship at sea. Her captors? The same ones she tried to forget: Zion Brooks — the famous singer with a seductive voice and explosive temper, who hides a dark side, part of the mafia underworld. Luka Rhodes — the brilliant music producer who hides a dangerous life in the Irish mafia alongside Declan Callahan. Elias Voss — the ex-military man and boxer, silent, lethal, and obsessively protective. Trapped together for seven nights in the middle of the Caribbean, the three are willing to do anything to break down the walls Maeve has built around her heart. They feed her, protect her, tease her… and tie her up when necessary. Because for them, Maeve had always belonged to them — from that unforgettable night on the beach, from the conception of Matthew, the eleven-year-old son she raised alone while hiding secrets capable of destroying them all. Between luxury, forbidden desire, and suffocating possessiveness, Maeve fights against her own body and against the unhealthy love she feels for them. But the more she resists, the closer the three get to truths she swore to take to the grave: the abuse from her father that still haunts her, the depression that almost destroyed her as a mother, and the paralyzing fear that her love is poison to everyone around her. On a cruise where there is no escape, Maeve discovers that the real prison was never the silk ropes… It was their love.

For five years, Mira poured her obsession into The Reckoning of Caelen Mors—a dark fantasy about a ruthless duke and the woman he becomes dangerously fixated on. At 2:47 AM, exhausted and alone, she died at her laptop. Her final words still glowed on the screen: "Duke Caelen finally showed her his true face. It was nothing like she imagined." She woke as Isadora Vess—the secondary character from her manuscript—in a silk bed, in a monster's house, with servants calling her by a name she'd invented. The problem: Mira remembers writing this world. She knows every dark secret. She knows how the story should end. Except her memories are fractured. The manuscript was never finished. And the characters have evolved without her input, making choices she never wrote, saying things she never scripted. Worse—Duke Caelen knows she's different. He's been waiting for her. Across seventeen timelines, he's seen her arrive at this exact moment. And in three of them, everything burned. Now Isadora must navigate a world she created but no longer controls, surrounded by men who each want to use her—a charming prince offering escape, a dark count offering power, and a villain offering the only thing that might be true: the answer to why she's here, and what happens when an author gets trapped in her own story. Because in every version where Isadora arrives, the empire falls. And Caelen has been waiting a very long time to see which ending she'll choose this time.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

"I thought I was paying a debt. I didn’t realize I was selling my soul." Lizaib "Iza" Moreno had one rule: Don’t look him in the eye. To save her father from a death sentence handed down by the city's most ruthless underground fixer, Iza enters a cold, calculated arrangement with Dark Valerius Thorne. He is a man of shadows, a predator who treats pleasure like a business transaction and emotions like a weakness. For six months, she belongs to him—no names, no strings, and absolutely no falling in love. But the dark has a way of swallowing you whole. On the final night of her contract, Iza disappears. She leaves behind the silk sheets of Dark’s penthouse and the suffocating heat of his touch, carrying a secret that could destroy them both: She’s pregnant with the devil’s heir. Six months later, Iza is living a quiet life under a new name, thinking she finally escaped the Thorne empire. But Dark doesn't lose what belongs to him. When he finds her—distressingly beautiful and visibly carrying his child—the "no-strings" arrangement is officially dead. Now, he isn’t just demanding the debt be paid. He’s claiming his family. As Iza is dragged back into his world of blood and luxury, she discovers a terrifying truth: her father’s debt wasn't an accident. Dark has been waiting for her since the very beginning. And this time, he’s never letting her go.