Eight darkly erotic and horrifically delicious stories guaranteed to give you shivers, in more ways than one!

In The Ride Annabelle hitches a ride from a stranger in a small town, where every day is the same. She longs for adventure and is looking to get out to find it…but it turns out that, even in the backwoods, nothing is as it seems after all…

In The Gingerbread Man, Lindy runs into an unexpected snow storm on the way to her fiance’s on Christmas Eve, but will the charming, kindly gentleman who comes to her rescue turn out to be more saccharine than sweet?

In The Laundry Chute, an old-fashioned laundry chute in a big, rambling farm house proves deadly for a group of young, adventurous boys…

In Advent Calendar, Jay is a player–a typical college student with one thing on his mind–and that doesn’t change when he meets Betsy. He wants nothing more than to take her five ways from Sunday, and Betsy doesn’t seem to object. Still, the more time he spends with her, the more she seems to affect him… When she gives him a homemade advent calendar for Christmas, Jay discovers the real meaning of the phrase, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

In The Velvet Choker, Lydia has heard the stories from her co-workers about the house at the apex of two dead end roads, but the young immigrant housekeeper isn’t scared easily. Working for the strange and reserved jewelry maker Hugo Kauffman pays well, and for that, she’s willing to overlook his eccentricities. But when Lydia finds a black, velvet choker in a box she’s been forbidden from opening, her life is changed forever, and she finds herself suddenly bound to the strange and eccentric old man who runs the household. Will the introduction and interest of the new, young portrait painter save her from her plight?

In Pumpkin Eater, She doesn’t know how long she’s been with Belch, the strange man who grows giant pumpkins…she doesn’t even remember her own name… But when a kind police officer comes to buy a pumpkin from their patch, Beth begins to remember. Sheriff Will Walker’s instincts tell him that something is wrong, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. Will he be able to figure out the mystery in time?

Stories included: Silent Night, Mercy, The Velvet Choker, Pumpkin Eater, The Ride, Advent Calender, The Laundry Chute, The Gingerbread Man and Bonus Story: Hunting Season by Blake Crouch and Selena Kitt

Warnings: This title contains graphic language, sex and elements of horror.

Word Count: 60,142

ALSO AVAILABLE IN PRINT

Stacy, Paranormal Romance Reviews

"Selena Kitt does a great job bringing these eight stories together into one book. Each story will have you reading furiously to find out what is about to happen and just what it will hold for the characters. Each story has its own form of erotica or horror and some have a bit of both. Anyone that enjoys erotic horror will enjoy this collection of intense stories."
 

Danya, Night Owl Romance Reviews 4.5/5 Stars

"Selena Kitt has penned a fabulous collection of erotic horror short stories. Shivers consists of eight stories that rival Stephen King in dreadful anticipation while still containing steamy and seductive overtones. While all the stories lend themselves to the reader quivering in horror and shivering in delight, The Gingerbread Man stands out as my favorite. Selena Kitt has created stories that no fan of erotic horror should miss. But be sure to leave a light on after reading these, you never know when the Boogey Man might come calling and in Selena Kitt’s world, he might just be tall, dark and handsome." 
 

EXCERPT:

From "Advent Calendar"

God, she smells incredible! Whatever the hell perfume she was wearing was intoxicating, and I dipped my nose into the swell of her cleavage where it was stronger. "You smell great," I murmured against her neck. She giggled, and I winced. Note to self—don't make her giggle!

"Pheromones…" The feel of her breath in my ear made my cock jump.

"What?" I tilted my head to look at her.

"Never heard of pheromones? Just chemicals we give off…love scents. It's like an aphrodisiac. Careful, you could fall in love with me," she teased.

"You've got a love scent, all right," I agreed, kissing her, harder, digging for that tiny tongue again and finding it.

She moaned against my mouth, responding to my thumbs rubbing over her hard nipples. They were pale pink and puffy. She had a true blonde's coloring, and I judged that Miss Clairol only gave her natural hues a shine, although I wouldn't know that for sure until I had her panties down. Her hand went for my crotch, but I grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her and kissing her toward my room. Whether it was the beer or the cold, my dick wasn't responding quite fully yet, and nothing killed things quicker than a girl who thought you couldn't get it up for her. No matter what you said, they made it all about them.

Her knees nearly buckled as I tongue-kissed her with both her hands behind her back, but she caught the shuffling backwards rhythm until I had her pressed against my bedroom door. I stopped there to enjoy the exposure of her breasts, the way her skirt was starting to ride up her thighs as she tried to press a knee up between my legs. Girls always forget about the testicles. I turned slightly, shifting so that my leg was pressed up towards the heat of her crotch, which is what she really wanted anyway, from the sound of her gasping as she rode it like one of the mechanical horses at the Toys R Us entrance, her skirt getting damper by the minute. Damn, this girl is hot!

I turned the doorknob, making sure I had her by the small of the back so we wouldn't spill onto the floor. We stumbled anyway, all the way to the bed, the height of the mattress forcing her to sit. She fumbled at my belt buckle in the dimness, and I pressed her away, unbuckling and starting to slip my belt out the loops.

"Mmmm, it smells good in here!"

I cocked my head, my belt hanging. I did smell something. It was weird how you got used to your own smells, and you never noticed it until someone else said something. "Vanilla!" She identified it—yep, that’s it all right. I wondered if Tyler's girlfriend had decided to force him into cookie-making or something this afternoon. The blonde's hand was tugging on my belt again, and I let her slip it the rest of the way out while I unsnapped and unzipped.

She leaned back on her elbows, watching me, her breasts flattening around the sides a little the way the larger ones do. She propped her stocking feet up on the bed—where the hell are her shoes?—and opened her thighs. In the light from the hallway, I could see the tops of her thigh-high stockings and, to my surprise, blonde fuzz. No panties in sight.

"You are a very bad girl." I smiled.

"They're in your jacket pocket," she purred, opening her thighs wider. "I took them off in the bathroom and thought, if you didn't take me home, at least I'd leave you a reminder." I realized I was still wearing my jacket. I reached in and felt dampness. Sure enough, there was a black pair of panties. I lifted them to my nose. She smelled incredible, strong, the way girls do when they still have pussy hair.