[In Progress][60k][Erotic/mature romance] Her Return from Ruin

Hi all, please DM if interested.

Genre: Mature, erotic/smutty slow-burn romance with abuse/trauma recovery arc. Definitely adults only.

Blurb: (excerpt further down)

After escaping her controlling and abusive husband in London, Mia Anderson seeks refuge in the serene Australian countryside. The quaint town of Bungaweela becomes her safe haven, but even its quiet charm can’t erase the emotional scars of her past. With the unwavering support of her loved ones, Mia begins the challenging journey of healing and reclaiming her identity and power.

She doesn’t anticipate Ewan Thompson—a ruggedly handsome farmer with an uncanny ability to breach the barriers she’s carefully constructed. Though burdened by his own traumatic past, Ewan sees Mia not as broken or ruined, but as a woman defined by her resilience and courage. As their bond grows, so does an erotic passion that neither can resist.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Gosh, so many-I promise its not as bleak as this list implies! Explicit sexual content (consensual only),descriptions of domestic violence, coercive control, false imprisonment, domestic partner abuse, child abuse, profanity, drug and alcohol use, mental illness, body hatred, suicidal ideation, blood, death and dying.

What I'm Looking For: Feedback on pacing, characters, consistency but open to all feedback

Critique Swap: Absolutely, I have broad tastes so am open to most genres, preference for romance.

Excerpt: The crystal chandelier cast a cold light over the pristinely sterile room. Its sparkle mocked the crippling emptiness inside her. Mia curled up on the plush leather sofa, cradling her empty wine glass as she stared at the blood-red bottle of expensive Merlot.

She hated this place. It resembled John—cold and heartless, yet flashy and showy. The luxury Mayfair house with its designer decor would be the envy of most people, but to her, it was just a prison.

Disoriented, she pushed herself up on one elbow, as her gaze swept the over-familiar contours of the living room. She switched off the TV—the steamy romance she'd been watching was over, and the midnight news bulletin was too depressing to stomach.

The elaborate grandfather clock ticked perpetually—each tick a cruel reminder of her endless fate. She knew there was no escape from this torturous existence, not until her dying breath. She sat up slowly, and ran a hand through her unwashed hair, her fingers catching on the auburn tangles. She hugged her bony knees to her chest, her baggy T-shirt bunched around her pale, bruised thighs.

The frigid marble floors gleamed in the muted light filtering through the curtains. She poured herself another glass of wine. Her bare feet slapped against the unyielding floor as she wandered to the window.

Outside, the elite Mayfair street was bathed in yellow from the gaslit street lamps. She’d once found their old-world style quaint—a charming connection to a bygone era. Now, they were like eerie sentinels, surveilling her every move in his absence. Mia pressed her forehead against the smooth glass and watched as her breath turned into fog on the pane.