In his shadows, she’s the only light.

Emily Hartwell doesn’t believe in fairy tales. An out-of-work archaeologist with a passion for the dead and forgotten, she’s used to stepping into strangers’ lives to make sense of what they’ve left behind. But when she takes a job cataloging the private library at Moore Manor, she isn’t prepared for the man who lives in its shadows.

Devlin Moore is cold, commanding, and untouchable. Wealth drips from his family name, but so does darkness. The estate is steeped in secrets and sorrow, and Devlin guards both with a brooding visage and a brutal temper. Only the longer Emily works in his home, the more she uncovers.

As the chemistry between them ignites, Emily finds herself caught in a firestorm of desire, deception, and deadly secrets, and Devlin is forced to come face to face with the real monster inside of him.

Perfect for fans of modern gothic romance, Under His Spell is a steamy, emotionally intense love story inspired by the classic Beauty and the Beast—with a darkly seductive twist.

A Peek Into Chapter 1

Emily Hartwell stood on the doorstep of Moore Manor with nothing but a bundle of nerves in her belly and a blanket of cold air wrapped around her. She looked up at the dark mansion towering above her and shivered despite the warmth of the season, a chill slipping under her skin with icy fingers.

It sat at the forefront of the sprawling estate, an homage to European architecture that seemed to breathe in and out, stirring the air around it so that the trees bent and whispered to each other in the shadows. Emily imagined it was once quite grand, though time had been a cruel mistress. Stone gone dark from age, bright green vines twisting into dead growth, and wooden framing that was cracked and split made it seem more haunted than impressive.

Emily fixed a professional smile on her face and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the air like a warning. She may be an under-funded scholar with a less than glamorous day job, but she didn’t have to act like one.

Finally, the heavy doors creaked open to reveal an imposing figure standing on the other side. The man before her had the kind of presence that made the air feel thick and unyielding. His shoulders filled the doorway, and his stern expression invited little in the way of pleasantries, let alone idle chit-chat.

Devlin Moore stood at over six feet tall, his broad frame filled out by years of pent-up frustration and silence. Dark hair, once neatly combed, now fell in messy waves around his sharp face, a face that appeared as if it was carved from stone by one of the masters. His eyes—dark, like a storm on the horizon—scanned her all at once, calculating, assessing her.

Unnerving her.

“Ms. Hartwell?” His voice was deep, gravelly, like he hadn’t used it in some time.

The roughness made her stomach twist, but she refused to be deterred. She had some pride, of course, but a girl also had to eat, and she desperately needed the paycheck this job would bring.

“That’s me. Mr. Moore, I’m assuming?” She tried to steady her breath as she took in his appearance… all of it. Her smile only faltered for a moment, betraying the slightest flicker of uncertainty, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He nodded, stepping aside to let her in, his movements slow, deliberate, like each one took more effort than it should. She followed him through the large, darkened entryway, where the dim light only accentuated the mansion’s opulence.

Heavy velvet curtains hung like dark waves along the walls, and the floor beneath her feet was marble—cold and unwelcoming. The home seemed well-suited to its owner.

“Follow me,” Devlin said, his voice low as he turned. He walked with a confident, almost angry, stride. His jaw was square, and he wore a frown that only softened when he spoke, however brief his words may be.

As Emily moved down the hall, a haunting portrait of a woman in Victorian garb loomed on the left side, its eyes watching her every step. She fought against the shiver that slicked down her spine. She could feel the house seeping into her bones, but she didn’t let it show. There was a weight to the place—the years, the history, the silence—and it unnerved her.

Walking through the endless winding halls, Emily wondered how she would ever remember her way around. The air grew heavier, thicker, like the house itself was trying as hard to smother her as it was to get her lost. Still, her anxiety didn’t prevent her from noticing the intricate details on the wood paneling or the ornate sconces the decorated the walls. It wasn’t simply the beauty that called to her. It was the overwhelming loneliness that clung to the space, like a forgotten echo dancing up and down these halls forever, never finding ears to listen or voices to answer.

At last, they stopped in front of a set of large double doors, and she could have sworn they were back at the front of the house. Devlin turned to face her, his gaze locking with hers. He raised a brow as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was challenging her to say it.

“As I told the agency, the house desperately needs attention. There are parts that are simply unusable now and no one left to tend to it. You’re here to do just that, to organize the house quickly and quietly,” he said, his voice almost mechanical, as though he was dealing with a task long put off. “I want to preserve certain parts of it—the items that pertain to my family’s heritage, our legacy—but I don’t intend to be involved in that process.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “That’s your job.”

Emily blinked. “What parts of the house am I to work on?”

“Not every room, but most of them, I would expect. You’ll learn what needs attention easily enough. The agency assured me your background lent itself to a certain level of… discernment.” His tone darkened at the last word, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. “I’m sure you’ll find that skill useful.”

She swallowed hard, not sure what to say. There was a story hidden behind his words, something far deeper than just wanting to organize and preserve family heirlooms. She was sure of it.

“You’ll start in the library,” he said…