Downloading Spellbooks and Shipwrecks (Moonveil Nights - A Sapphic Horror Romance Series)

A drowned spellbook. A storm that will not wait. A Coast Guard rescuer with calluses where the rope loves her best. A librarian who would rather kiss the truth than be handled by a half‑fact. When the Moonveil fog slips back into Tideglass Harbor, the boundary thins and the town’s protection hums for attention. The Harbor Binding holds only when love is willing and consent is spoken. Renée Dupont keeps that truth cataloged at the Tidemark Library. Tamsin Cole carries it in her boat and in her bones.

A late‑autumn salvage pull turns up a grimoire ruined by tide, its vellum curling like waves and its title half‑legible: Tide, Time, and Tender. The pages behave when handled kindly. They sulk when treated like loot. Renée wants the book dry and honest on a towel. Tamsin wants Renée warm and safe through the next squall. The Moonveil, neutral as ever, answers to whichever desire is offered with care.

Prankish signs escalate at the lighthouse and cold spots bloom along the pier. Tideglass does what it does best. Mayor Oakes posts calm copy under plastic. Mr. Biddle times reality with his bell and a bad pun. Saffy labels vibes and hands out balm for brave jobs. Button leaves striped mints and paper boats with a copper smile at the bow. The rule holds everywhere: ask, not boss. Green means go. Comma means pause and check. Red means stop, hydrate, and do aftercare even if nobody is crying yet.

Renée and Tamsin want a private life in a public town, and that is the kind of romance Tideglass respects. Their heat is raunchy and retail‑safe, never crude: a rope‑coil lesson over clothing that becomes trust, a library table turning into a promise, steam that fogs a mirror and clears old shame, water and laughter after. Every yes is spoken aloud. Every risk ends in a warm towel and a glass pressed into someone’s hand.

But the drowned grimoire is missing a page and storms love unsolved pages. An absence called the Hollower prowls where consent is broken. A polished “revitalizer” would love to sell the town a thrill it never asked for. As the wind climbs the breakwater, Renée decodes a cadence hidden in the book’s index, and Tamsin leads a rescue that is also a confession: saving a town is easier when you let someone hold you steady.

Spellbooks & Shipwrecks is Book 5 of Moonveil Nights, a hot, funny, Halloween‑flavored, cozy‑spooky romance cycle. It stands alone with a full HEA while threading the series mystery forward. Expect flirty competence, civic humor, lighthouse rainbows, and three open‑door intimacy scenes that keep language clever, consent explicit, and aftercare on the page. Come for the lantern glow and the rope on a wrist over a sleeve. Stay for the way the town claps quietly in its chest when two people tell the truth about what they want. Adults only. Humans only. No gore. No humiliation. Public scenes keep plausible deniability while private scenes speak every yes out loud. Heat is open door and consent forward. Aftercare is part of the plot, not an epilogue. The town’s language is simple and kind: green means keep going, comma means pause and check, red means stop and care for each other. If you like witty banter, civic competence, and fog that glows instead of jump scares, this series is for you. Every book ends with a real HEA and advances the Harbor Binding mystery without cliffhangers. Adults only. Humans only. No gore. No humiliation. Public scenes keep plausible deniability while private scenes speak every yes out loud. Heat is open door and consent forward. Aftercare is part of the plot, not an epilogue. The town’s language is simple and kind: green means keep going, comma means pause and check, red means stop and care for each other. If you like witty banter, civic competence, and fog that glows instead of jump scares, this series is for you. Every book ends with a real HEA and advances the Harbor Binding mystery without cliffhangers. Adults only.