Books like Hooked — picked by fans

Erotic literature has always fascinated me as a great transgressor of social conventions. I read the Marquis de Sade when I was young, followed by Henry Miller and the extraordinary Venus in Furs. These are works of astonishing literary scope that explore human nature as few others do. Then I discovered Bataille, and the fascination became too profound to ignore for a restless writer determined to explore human nature. When I read Lolita, I understood that eroticism wasn't merely a perfect thread for a narrative, but could become the very essence of great literary storytelling. For me, continuing that exploration through dark romance is simply a natural extension of who I am as a writer.

Erotic literature has always fascinated me as a great transgressor of social conventions. I read the Marquis de Sade when I was young, followed by Henry Miller and the extraordinary Venus in Furs. These are works of astonishing literary scope that explore human nature as few others do. Then I discovered Bataille, and the fascination became too profound to ignore for a restless writer determined to explore human nature. When I read Lolita, I understood that eroticism wasn't merely a perfect thread for a narrative, but could become the very essence of great literary storytelling. For me, continuing that exploration through dark romance is simply a natural extension of who I am as a writer.

Erotic literature has always fascinated me as a great transgressor of social conventions. I read the Marquis de Sade when I was young, followed by Henry Miller and the extraordinary Venus in Furs. These are works of astonishing literary scope that explore human nature as few others do. Then I discovered Bataille, and the fascination became too profound to ignore for a restless writer determined to explore human nature. When I read Lolita, I understood that eroticism wasn't merely a perfect thread for a narrative, but could become the very essence of great literary storytelling. For me, continuing that exploration through dark romance is simply a natural extension of who I am as a writer.

Erotic literature has always fascinated me as a great transgressor of social conventions. I read the Marquis de Sade when I was young, followed by Henry Miller and the extraordinary Venus in Furs. These are works of astonishing literary scope that explore human nature as few others do. Then I discovered Bataille, and the fascination became too profound to ignore for a restless writer determined to explore human nature. When I read Lolita, I understood that eroticism wasn't merely a perfect thread for a narrative, but could become the very essence of great literary storytelling. For me, continuing that exploration through dark romance is simply a natural extension of who I am as a writer.

Well, truly, who doesn’t want to live inside of a magical castle? A few years ago, I was lucky enough to become the owner of a crumbling Victorian house. It was in bad shape—a hoarder had lived there before with lots of cats and also, somehow, rats?—but the place had “good bones.” My husband and I were determined to scrape away all of the rot and give it new life—all while I was writing my middle-grade novel. Now that both projects are done, I truly feel like I live in an enchanted space.

As an academic researcher, I’ve taken the plunge into areas that others often fear to tread to trace something of the hidden erotic history of Britain. In this stretch of experience, you’ll find crystalized the changes of manners and mores, emerging fronts against reactionary governments, world-making among communities marginalized, ostracised, and endangered, censorship and legislation and debate, and the long tail of civil upheavals around the Summer of Love, gay rights, trans rights, and more. This is often the history of the suburbs, of dreams and imaginations, of reprehensible interlopers, of freethinking paradigm-breakers, and the index of what British society offered its citizens.

Pet names in romance can make or break a book, in my opinion. Sometimes, they can be offputting, but other times, pet names make me smile. They elevate the chemistry between characters–turn the heat up a notch on a steam scene, make you blush, and make you fall in love with the characters. When I read a pet name I can imagine the tone, level, and timbre. It makes me feel like I'm there in the pages with the characters. I think it's because a pet name or nickname is special. A person assigns it to you because they care–or, better yet, within the pages of a romance, they love.

Prior to writing my own works of fiction, I actually worked for several years as a romance ghostwriter. I’ve worked for many clients under various pseudonyms, and many of these titles have gone on to the Amazon Top 100 list (I just can’t tell you which one because I signed an NDA). I think that romance as a genre can be a wonderfully cathartic and escapist experience, allowing us the opportunity to swoon, pine, and giddily indulge in the joy of what it’s like to fall in love over and over again. 

I’ve been obsessed with fantasy stories for as long as I can remember, but the books I read growing up usually took place “somewhere else.” When I first started seeing books that brought magic to a world that resembled mine, I fell in love. Reading magic in a modern setting brought it home and made it real. Now, I gobble up every story I can find that brings magic to the mundane, and I even write my own. I hope the books on this list inspire you to look for the magic in your own life, as they have for me.

I came from a country town in Australia and I love the sense of community that’s still so woven into the fabric of society in country towns. That enjoyment drove me to write the award-winning Hope Creek Series, which has all the elements of small town romance I admire. The importance of a strong sense of identity within the community, support from townspeople in keeping each other’s secrets or in rallying around to try to help each other in times of crisis. The willingness to stand by a mate despite the mate being flawed.