In the gaslit parlors of 1840s New York, spiritualism is everywhere, whispered about in drawing rooms and sold as truth. Eliza Harrow doesn’t believe in any of it. She’s a journalist, sharp-eyed and careful, and she’s gone undercover as a medium to expose the frauds cashing in on grief and hope.
Then she meets Victor Laurent.
He runs the most talked-about séances in the city. Calm voice. Steady hands. Eyes that seem to see too much. Eliza expects tricks and wires. Instead, she finds questions she can’t easily answer—and a man who unsettles her in ways she didn’t plan for.
Night after night, she sits in darkened rooms thick with candle smoke and murmurs. Knuckles rap against tables. Messages appear. And during their private sessions, lines blur. A blindfold. A brush of fingers. Confessions spoken too close to the ear. What starts as investigation turns intimate, charged, and hard to control.
Victor carries a weight he won’t name, something that follows him like a second shadow. Eliza feels it even as she writes her articles by lamplight, ink smudging her fingers. Her words begin to stir attention, and with it, danger. The closer she gets to the truth, the more fragile their trust becomes.
Because she’s hiding something, too.
As belief and doubt collide, Eliza must choose what she’s willing to sacrifice. Her story. Her safety. Or the one connection she never expected to feel.
How far will she go to learn what’s real?
***
Part of the Sinful Whispers: Cursed Hearts of the 1800s series where America's darkest historical horrors ignite the hottest forbidden romances.
In the shadowed underbelly of 1800s America, restless spirits linger in gilded homes and desire cuts deeper than fear. Love here isn’t safe. It’s the most dangerous curse there is.
From Gold Rush ghosts murmuring in the dark to séance tables where hands hesitate, then stay, each standalone story blends historical horror with raw heat. Strong-willed women clash with brooding men outlaws, mediums, heirs to bloodstained fortunes drawn together by forces that don’t stop at death. Floorboards creak. Candle smoke curls. The past refuses to stay buried.
This land is thick with vengeance and hidden killers. Giving in to pleasure can tear the veil wide open or offer redemption where none should exist. Every choice carries a cost. Every touch risks awakening something that won’t go back to sleep.
Sinful Whispers: Cursed Hearts of the 1800s, where terror and temptation walk hand in hand.
Some curses don’t want to be broken.
