Ciara

Welcome. Come in, take off your shoes, please. Would you like something to drink? Yes, absolutely no shoes. The more floors I have to clean, the less books for everyone. Thank you. Pull up a seat, please. Need a pillow?

My name is Ciara Darren. Ciara pronounced See-Air-Â. Feel free to introduce yourself. I read all my mail at ciaradarren@gmail.com. Junk email is fed to the gremlins. Friendly, interesting letters get thoughtful answers, penned by me personally. 

I write contemporary chosen family polyamorous romance with a focus on power exchange/BDSM, kink, and hurt/comfort. If you are here, I’m going to assume that you like your romance complex, slow burn, intense, spicy with an extra side of chili peppers, emotionally intimate, and intellectually challenging. Also diverse. In all the definitions. We mixed our trauma with comfort food, shared showers, families that cuddle each other to sleep, and friends—not just lovers—who walk through hell to choose each other. 

There are epic fantasy titles in my backlist that fit firmly in the chosen family and power exchange themes of my work. There will eventually be more epic fantasy. I’ve promised everyone who loves Jarvis that his story will be finished, eventually. Right now, as of 2026, The Residency Boys and spin off serials are taking all my focus.

What else would you like to know? If you’ve read all my books, you already know me better than many. What else could you possibly want to hear? Hm… you make interesting points. 

I currently live in Chicago. The frozen lake is terrifying and beautiful. The land is flat. The people are a mixed bag like anywhere else. The city is an oasis of art and education. There are reasons why museums get written into all my stories. Homesickness for previous homes is a companion that never leaves. I miss the cafe in Takasaki-eki where I wrote much of my first book as an adult, my students in Haui’an, and sunsets over Mount Rainier. Every year I promise myself that one day I will take my partner to Seoul and once again run along the banks of the Han river like Damian and Jun do in their story. 

When I write, my feline companions, Appa and Momo, often sit on my desk or sleep under it. Sometimes Momo crawls behind my back on the chair. I open my laptop and put on the headphones and the world slips away. When I go too long Appa rolls slowly onto his back and stretches a leg over the keyboard, adding typos across the page.

There are labels I could give. I prefer stories. Give me nuance. Give me epic sagas. Tell me about your lover of twenty years ago in another country over a drink in a tiny bar in an alley. Dance with me in the rain. Walk twenty-three and a half miles with me until we’re aching and mad with laughter. Keep the mystery, keep the darkness. Let your voice catch on the hard parts, whisper the unbearable and the beautiful.

And never, ever forget to dance.