Downloading Hexes and Late Checkout (Moonveil Nights - A Sapphic Horror Romance Series)

Hexes & Late Checkout (Moonveil Nights, Book 1) is a hot, raunchy‑fun, Halloween‑season sapphic noir romance with cozy‑spooky bite and open‑door heat.

A storm seals the Driftglass Inn, the guestbook bleeds brine around certain names, and two women who swore they were done with each other are forced to

choose between staying safe and trusting what sparks. Dev Kapoor—a logic‑first app auditor back to modernize her aunt’s B&B—collides with Mara Quintero,

a practical witch who keeps hinges from screaming and wards from sulking. They’ve been rivals since a teenage “hex” tangled their hearts; now the

power flickers, the pantry won’t behave, and a pattern in the brine points straight at the lighthouse museum.

Come for rivals‑to‑lovers crackle and the inevitable one‑bed during a storm; stay for kitchen intimacy, hand‑to‑wrist sigils, prankster‑ghost dares,

and banter sharp enough to cut rope. The romance is explicit and consent‑forward—adult, playful, communicative—while the horror stays Halloween‑bright:

goosebumps, cold spots, mirror tricks, no gore. The mystery plays fair with sea‑glass clues and red herrings and snaps into a payoff that reframes what

Tideglass thinks it knows about its copper‑masked past.

Read it as a standalone gateway into Moonveil Nights or as the first lantern in a twelve‑book arc where love literally strengthens the town’s protective

Binding when the Moonveil thins the boundary. In this world, magic runs on consent: intimacy chosen freely steadies wards; coercion frays them.

That means trust isn’t just romantic here—it’s civic. Expect found‑family backup, chili‑cookoff levity, and neighbors who bring flashlights and food.

Tropes & hooks (no spoilers): forced proximity, one bed, competence kink (playful), midnight bake, pantry lock‑in, balcony kiss in stormlight, prankster

spirit with boundaries, ledger scrawl from 1895, and a reflection motif that leads to the lighthouse. Heat level: high but human; language centers pulse,

breath, choice, and aftercare; all characters are adults. Packaging is ad‑safe; spice lives inside.

Because reading should be a party, this edition includes a printable Theme Party Kit and a naughty cosplay night add‑on your group can actually run:

playlist cues, simple set dressing (rope coil, glass float, one misbehaving bulb), conversation prompts, easy recipes with mocktail options, plus a

cosplay guide (guardian copper mask, witchy inn crew, lighthouse docent, prankster poltergeist—tasteful, flirty, no explicit imagery). When you close the

book, you’ll still taste lime and sugar, hear rain on shutters, and feel a steadier rhythm under your ribs.

Why this hits: cinematic coastal noir without grimdark; banter that lowers armor; a puzzle that plays fair; three on‑page scenes with clear consent

and aftercare; zero gore; a town that believes safety and joy can coexist. If you collect first‑kiss moments, if competence is your love language,

if storm‑light makes you brave, and if the words “may I?” are your kind of magic, welcome to Tideglass Harbor.

Inside the pages you’ll find: a midnight bake that dissolves defenses; a pantry lock‑in that turns almost into inevitable; a bedroom scene that treats care as heat; a balcony quickie in stormlight with laughter after; a town‑hall stand that proves a united front is its own kind of magic; and a final tag that points a clean arrow toward the lighthouse museum without undercutting the HEA.

Vibe & content notes: adults only; explicit open‑door scenes with verbal “yes” checks and aftercare; scares are Halloween‑bright (cold spots, mirror angles, strange knocks), not gory. Language stays sensual and modern—no clinical terms, no porn slang. The packaging signals heat without explicit imagery; the spice lives inside.