The Montreal Registry

In Montreal, vampires live inside the city on an administrative licence. Lawful standing exists only while a filed registration stands in your name; feeding is legal only with a registered donor of record; and when a donor dies or withdraws, the supply list hands you a number and an estimated delay — eleven months, unattended, non-negotiable. No courts, no castles, no folklore. Just a bureaucracy that is neither cruel nor kind, and everyone it touches trying to build a life inside it.

The Montreal Registry is where the paperwork is the love story. Consent here is forms, blood panels, kitchen-table interviews and hearings — and also, always, words spoken out loud. Every yes is said standing up, in plain language. Whatever a vampire could do to a human mind, these vampires say out loud that they will not, and the books never give cause to doubt it. The power on the page is the ordinary kind — who holds the pen, who signs, who can afford to wait — which makes surrendering it mean something.

These are cold-to-warm books: winter sleet on glass, night shifts, transit, rent, and one warm thing in a cold city worth filing your name to a public register for. The erotics are temperature — warm skin against cold hands — and the register is permanent: a donor entry never comes off, and what that costs is different depending on whose name it is.

The Montreal Registry is a series of standalone contemporary vampire romances. Explicit, open-door heat; every limit negotiated in full; every book a hard-won, guaranteed HEA — human stays human, and love does the paperwork.

Read them in any order. Start with The Cold Hours.

BWWM · vampire romance · blood donors · consent-forward · explicit open-door heat · guaranteed HEA.