90's Romance Novels Novels & Stories

Lance was already planning on the things he wants to do at the mall. One afternoon, Charm asked me to go around with her before going home. She looked so sad and distracted. We went to the Square and checked out the new stores and ate pizza. She told me she broke up with Franco. They had a misunderstanding and she's not really very patient. I was upset. I really liked Franco. He seemed so dependable, kind, and smart. "I think I got bored. I was looking again for excitement. Our relationship just went through that comfortable phase." Charm picked on her food. I retorted, "He's such a nice boy. He is exactly what you need. I don't know what else you are looking for." I wanted to kick her. I

JULIA "What are you reading now?" Scott asked. Scott was my husband of ten years. He had just caught me engaged in one of my guilty pleasures, reading erotic romance novels. More than erotic, steamy really. Scott is tall, surfer boy handsome and fit. He has his own residential construction business and often worked with his men, which meant he was a man's man as well as a woman's. I loved him immensely and was not looking to upgrade. For that matter, he was more romantic than I was, still giving me flowers on special occasions and celebrating Valentine's Week, not Valentine's Day. He helped with the household chores, rubbed my feet or my back if they hurt, and was the best lover I've ever ha

He never shielded me from the heartache in the pages of those books but used them as a tool to teach me about life, history, hopes, and dreams. It wasn’t until my teen years that I discovered my love of romance. What began by dipping my toes into the historical greats affectionately termed ‘bodice rippers’ took on a different tone when I was a senior in high school. I discovered the world of erotic romance. I’d always been taught that literature was a gateway for the imagination so I never dreamed that some people would frown on the romance genre as lower quality literature. After all, with a history of such utter trash like Wuthering Heights and The Old Man and the Sea being named classics,

"You like mysteries?" "Sometimes." "Better than romance novels?" My face heated. Had he seen me looking at that shelf? Had he been watching? "Much better," I said firmly. "Romance novels are... unrealistic." Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement maybe. "Are they?" "Yes. All that instant attraction and forbidden desire and enemies becoming lovers. It doesn't work like that in real life." "Doesn't it?" The way he said it—the slight emphasis, the look in his eyes—made my stomach flip.

“As many as you want.” “That’s not—” “I’m serious. Go.” I moved through the narrow aisles and let my fingers trail over the spines. Some were cracked leather, others smooth paperback, the new ones still crisp and unbroken. I found myself in the romance section because of course I did. The covers were ridiculous with their shirtless men and promises of happy endings I’d stopped believing in. “These any good?” I jumped. Nate stood close enough that I caught the scent of cedar. “I don’t know. Haven’t read them yet.”

“It was adorable. He used to hide them behind law textbooks. Thought no one would notice.” Lu turned to me, slowly, disbelief dawning in his expression. “Romance novels?” I kept my face perfectly composed. “It’s called studying character psychology. I was curious how emotional arcs were structured.” Christopher leaned closer to Lu and stage-whispered, “Some of them were very emotionally structured. Especially the ones with the shirtless men on the covers.” I tilted my head, deadpan. “At least they weren’t about knights and dragons like yours.” “Oh they were! But mine had duels. Yours had duels of passion.”

Long enough for me to remember who I was before I met him. Turns out, I actually like romance novels. Not the tasteful literary romances Kenneth approved of. I’m talking absolutely shameless books with shirtless men on the covers, morally questionable billionaires, ridiculous amounts of tension, and enough spice to qualify as attempted arson. The kind Kenneth used to wrinkle his nose at. “Those books rot your brain, Jo.” Funny. I don’t think the books were the problem. I’ve also rediscovered cheesy rom-coms and psychological thrillers, all the goodies that Kenneth never agreed to watch with me because they were “too stupid” (the romcoms) and “too complicated” (the psych thrillers).