Well, let me set the scene for you.

It all started when I had just spent an unsavory amount of time scrolling through TikTok (when I should have been writing), ingesting copious amounts of masked men content. There was a trend going around about how dark romance readers would react if they were kidnapped (i.e how quickly would we all develop Stockholm syndrome?).

Anyways, fast forward a couple hundred more videos, I was then left alone with my thoughts for two minutes. I thought, “God, how fucked up would it be if they kidnapped us AND killed our family.”

Then, the other voice is my head chimed in, saying, “That’s so fucked up. I’d read something like that.”

Another voice popped in, adding, “Damn, I don’t think that exists.”

Twenty-four hours later, while I was at work, a light bulb went on in my head. I could literally just write this messed up book by myself, because I forgot that I am, in fact, an author.

However many months and one or twenty mental breakdowns later, Skin of a Sinner will always have a special place in my heart. I love Roman with everything I have, but I want to deck that man. If he were real, I would have a taser on me at all times.

On a more serious note, this book would never have happened without a whole team of people reading through my manuscript and then listening to me freak out about one thing or another.

I want to give an extra special shout out to Eve, V, Sam, Sage and Emily, because you guys had to deal with me blowing up your DMs on a fortnightly basis.

Now, to everyone else that helped me bring SOAS together; Mette, Tee, Charlize, Pia, Cynthia, Jay, Liberty, Dusty, Mika, Summer, Nicole, Kayla and Kirsten.

I hope you all get (consensually) chased through the woods by a masked man.

Stay smutty x

A St. Graves

Be sure to follow me on Instagram, Facebook and TikTok @avina.stgraves, as well as my reader's group "Avina St. Graves' Reapers."

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About the Author

From an early age, romance author Avina St. Graves spent her days imagining fantasy worlds and dreamy fictional men, which spurred on from her introverted tendencies. In all her daydreaming, there seemed to be a reoccurring theme of morally grey female characters, love interests that belong in prison, and unnecessary trauma and bloodshed.

Much to everyone's misfortune, she now spends her days in a white-collar job praying to every god known to man that she might be able to write full-time and give the world more red flags to froth over.

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Also By The Author

DEATH'S OBSESSION

He’s coming for you.

Death is meant to come on a chariot of broken dreams or in the dark trenches of a storm, not in love letters and gifts.

He did not take my soul when I was meant to die. He did not want it all the other times that I’ve offered it to him on a silver platter. Yet, time and time again, he reminds me that I am his: His night monster, his dark love, his perfect other.

Death was the only thing keeping me alive. He watches me from his corner, taunts me with sweet messages, marks my body with his touch as I sleep.

He took the people that I love away from me. Still, no one believed me when I said that I saw the faceless man on the night of the accident.

No one can escape death.

Me? I’m chasing it.

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