TraumaBond isn’t your typical romance—it’s a dark, deeply emotional coming-of-age story rooted in Sedalia, Missouri. This is not a light or escapist read. It contains adult themes like emotional and physical abuse, manipulation, addiction, and trauma, along with a heavy dose of spice. If you’re looking for a dark romance that doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable truths and moral gray areas, this book delivers.
The story explores love and power dynamics in a way that’s both intimate and unsettling. The male love interest is not written as a feminist hero...far from it. His actions often undermine the protagonist’s autonomy, from isolating her socially to using manipulation under the guise of protection. Even when she’s given symbolic “power,” it’s clear she’s not treated as an equal, and her lack of education and resources keeps her dependent on him.
One of the book’s most difficult but important threads is its portrayal of mental illness and addiction. The protagonist’s trauma is lifelong: groomed from childhood, shamed and neglected by her family, and pushed into substance abuse and reckless behaviors, she’s met with cruelty instead of care. Her eventual relationship with someone meant to help her is deeply complicated and exploitative, yet framed as romantic. This storyline is raw and at times deeply uncomfortable, and while it reflects harsh realities, readers should be aware it doesn’t always show a realistic path to healing.
What makes TraumaBond stand out is its willingness to lean into darkness without romanticizing it. It forces readers to question who’s truly the hero or villain and whether “love” can exist within cycles of control and trauma. The Sedalia setting grounds the story, making it feel hauntingly real.
Overall:
I enjoyed this book not because it’s easy to read, but because it’s bold, messy, and unflinching. The writing is immersive, the characters are morally complex, and the themes cut deep. If you’re looking for a dark romance with real-world grit, trauma exploration, and complex character dynamics. not a traditional “feel-good” love story; this is a must-read.
Gaslit is a haunting, emotional installment in the Traumacore series, diving deep into the psychological toll of manipulation, abuse, and survival. Unlike fantasy romantasy titles, this book is firmly grounded in reality, set in Sedalia, Missouri, and it doesn’t shy away from the raw, messy truths of trauma. This is dark romance at its core, and while it features relationships and intimacy, its strength lies in its unflinching exploration of power dynamics and emotional resilience.
The protagonist’s journey is brutal yet deeply human. This book explores how gaslighting erodes identity, trust, and self-worth, pulling readers into the protagonist’s headspace so vividly that it can feel suffocating. Every scene is charged with tension, and even moments of passion are laced with danger, heartbreak, and vulnerability. It’s not an easy read—but that’s what makes it so powerful.
The characters are deeply flawed, and that’s intentional. The romantic dynamic is complicated, manipulative, and uncomfortable at times, but it mirrors the reality of toxic relationships and cycles of abuse. This is not a story meant to glorify pain; rather, it exposes it. The writing style is immersive and unapologetic, drawing readers into the chaos of survival while also showing flickers of strength, hope, and growth.
While Gaslit is heavy, it’s also captivating. It doesn’t rely on tropes or neat resolutions—this is a raw, emotional story that will leave you thinking long after you’ve turned the last page. If you’re looking for a dark romance that prioritizes emotional depth, psychological realism, and authenticity over fantasy or escapism, Gaslit delivers.
Gaslit is a storm of a book—quiet at first, creeping in like fog, before it tears through your chest with raw emotion and an unrelenting truth that only trauma and survival can deliver. From the opening pages, Dawn Howe doesn’t just tell a story; she drags you into the suffocating, intimate world of manipulation, heartbreak, and resilience. This isn’t escapism-it’s confrontation.
We follow Aslyn, a protagonist as fragile as glass and as unbreakable as steel, whose life becomes a masterclass in psychological warfare. She isn’t a neat, polished “strong heroine.” She is layered, scarred, and achingly real. Every chapter is heavy with the weight of emotional abuse and gaslighting, yet threaded with a quiet defiance that makes her impossible to forget.
The relationships in Gaslit are as magnetic as they are toxic, drawing readers in with a mix of danger, desire, and despair. The romantic tension is palpable, but it’s a knife’s edge—forcing us to question what love means when power and control blur its boundaries. It’s dark romance at its most honest, refusing to glamorize trauma while still acknowledging the complex emotions that bind abuser and survivor.
Howe’s writing is sharp and immersive, capturing both the suffocating closeness of abuse and the staggering courage it takes to reclaim yourself. Every scene feels intentional: every look, every word, every silence builds a sense of unease that lingers long after the book is closed. Yet, in that darkness, she threads glimmers of hope; proof that survival is both messy and magnificent.
By the final page, Gaslit doesn’t just leave a mark; it leaves a scar. It’s a mirror for those who have lived it, a lesson for those who haven’t, and a story that refuses to let you look away.
Gaslit is not just a book you read. It’s a reckoning. And like all great reckonings, it will stay with you, heavy and holy, long after you turn the last page.
