Haunted Dolls: A Lesbian Horror Romance

By Harmony Fuller

Haunted: Adj; inhabited or frequented by ghosts.

Lizzy didn’t have time for love or horror. She moved to the countryside looking for a little peace and quiet, but what she got was an already occupied house. From the time the first moving box hit the floor strange things started to happen. Porcelain dolls, there one moment and gone the next, start to frequent her vision as strange texts from an unknown source warn her to hide.

Becca’s new neighbor was cute but abnormally jumpy. Not that she could blame her, having moved into a haunted house. What starts out as a friendly first visit begins a courtship that might cost her not only her heart, but her life.

New neighbors unearth old memories as Lizzy and Becca try to piece together the puzzle around the mysterious dolls. With their feelings for each other becoming more and more entangled, so does the danger as a new apparition rises from the grave.

Is their love strong enough to calm the restless spirits of the dead, or will the house claim two more ghosts?

Haunted Dolls is a quick read novella intended as a spooky afternoon for adult audiences. HEA guaranteed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DrunkFlamingoPublishing
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005553159

Harmony Fuller

Writer, gaming enthusiast, foodie, and lover of all things Lesbian, Gender Swap, & Futa are just a few things that describe Harmony Fuller. With a passion for Science Fiction and Fantasy, you are more likely to find her sexy heroines in a dragons lair than a corporate office.She is currently writing part time in Southern California but hopes to one day move back to her farm in the heartlands and write full time.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The house hadn’t seemed haunted by anything but the odd bit of moss and a handful of stray mice. A white A-frame flanked by a little windowed box. It was a typical Midwestern home. Sitting on ten acres of woodland forest edged to the south by the mighty Mississippi, it was a writer’s paradise.

Quaint and quiet, it was exactly what I had always dreamed about while standing behind the counter of one of dozens of retail stores I had worked at over the years. Countless notebooks, all hidden under the counter during transactions, chronicled hundreds of characters down a myriad of adventures. And then one day it happened. One of my stories had caught fire like a lightning strike in the dry California hills. Suddenly, my life as a starving author had changed.

One book deal later, I was thirty-two and staring up the graveled drive of my new woodland home. I look back on that day and wonder - if I knew what I know now, would I still have been smiling?

Most ghost stories start a week or more after the hauntee moves in. I wish Serene and Alice had given me that long. Instead, mine started within an hour of the first moving box hitting the dusty floor.

Oof! I exhaled, wiping more than a few drops of sweat from my forehead. Why do I own so many books?

A white, floofy mop like creature that I called a dog barked up at me. His tail wagged, sweeping more dust in the air.

Casper! I wailed between sneezes. Out! Out! Out! Out!

He leapt up, heading for the door with a trot that seemed mighty pleased with itself.

Ugh… a bit of snot joined the sweat droplets on my arm and I frowned. I was filthy, but there was no point in showering before all the boxes were inside. Should have hired the movers.

I believe it was the constant thump of dropped boxes that woke the dolls.

I was bringing in the last box when I first saw them. At first I didn’t notice, too intent on dropping the last box and flinging myself joyously down onto the floor.

Done! I proclaimed, rolling onto my stomach with a grin as I patted the wood next to me. Casper! Come here. Come here, boy.

My white mop had stopped at the precipice, still as a statue. Even his tongue, hanging halfway out of his mouth, didn’t move as he took small, measured breaths.

Casper? I frowned, heaving myself up into a sitting position with my arms spread wide. This never failed to bring him in. Casper, come here.

Tiny, cautious footsteps brought him to me, but he did come. The hug technique had worked again. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close as he put his head on my shoulder and stared past me.

I know, it’s all new and scary, but this is home now. I reminded him, pulling back and grabbing his fluffy face between my hands. You have to get used to it. I kissed his nose, noticing immediately that it was warm and dry. Casper? You feeling ok?

I got up, dusting my hands against my thighs while frowning at him. Maybe I should call the- I turned and my heart leapt.

Two dolls. Porcelain with tiny, beaded eyes. One had blonde curls and a smile, while the other looked like a 1700 century rendition of goth. Black hair and dark red lips that were turned down into a frown. They were sitting on top of a pile of books, holding hands, and staring at us.

My stomach dropped as I took a frightened step back. My mouth formed the word FUCK, but nothing came out.

The world stood still for several seconds as we stared at each other. Me and the dolls that I hadn’t packed.

Hi!

In an instant, that one word brought the world crashing back into focus and I screamed, leaping around to find a startled woman peeking in from my open door.

Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! She gave me a shy, clearly embarrassed smile. My name is Becca. I live down the road. I saw the truck and thought I should swing in and say hi since I’m your closest neighbor. She shifted uneasily, her eyes going between Casper and I, I can come back if this is a bad time…

I swallowed, glancing behind me but not seeing the dolls. Their absence pulled me from my daze and I quickly turned, searching around the boxes where I had seen them. No, no, not at all. You just startled me. I added, popping up from behind a stack of cardboard. I must have looked like a child playing in a paper fort. Useless guard dog.

She smiled, taking a small step inside, and knelt. Casper immediately retreated towards her with a small wag. But he’s cute.

I smiled, feeling the tension from my shoulders fade as the seconds ticked on. Maybe I was just seeing things. Too tired.

With a lump still sitting heavily in my stomach, I walked towards her, kneeling on the other side of Casper when I reached them and placing my hands against his rump. He was warm, alive, and currently unafraid. I needed to take a lesson from him.

He was also currently burying nose first into our guest’s low cut sweater, pulling it down even further to reveal a pair of pale, smooth orbs. Another tightness started in my stomach, but this one had nothing to do with porcelain dolls and everything to do with porcelain globes.

I pulled my eyes up, embarrassed that I had been staring but mentally blaming it on my exhibitionist dog. Unfortunately, her face was just as easy on the eyes and I found myself shyly smiling back at her. He is cute, but if you were here to kill me, I don’t think he would stop you. You aren’t here to kill me, right? I added the last with a quirk of my brow, suddenly feeling a bit flirtatious as the adrenaline from my brief encounter was starting to fade.

She gave me a closed lip smile and winked, apparently feeling it too. What if I was?

I stood, a small laugh easing the rest of the lingering tension from my chest. Then you probably shouldn’t have said hi. We were easy targets before that.

She followed me up, leaving a disappointed mop to flop down between us. Yeah, I saw that. Admiring your handiwork?

Uh.. I started, turning slightly to cast an eye over the boxes. There wasn’t so much as a piece of tape out of place. Is that what you saw?

"I saw my new neighbor and her dog