Best Romance Books With Spice Novels & Stories

“Do you want me to tell you about my mermaid?” “First, explain why you read books when your friend is visiting.” “Because we both like reading? What kind of question is that? You read constantly. You should understand.” “I read when I’m alone.” “That’s only half the fun. She reads really filthy books about bikers and mafia bosses, and I read historical romances full of ball gowns and elaborate courtship rituals. Then we read each other the best passages.” She was getting animated now, hands moving as she talked. “So Daphne ’s contributions are like ‘Jax and Teague ripped my clothes off and we had this insane threesome and I came five times,’ and mine are full-page descriptions of flowers blo

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I smile sweetly at him. His eyes widen. “How is that romance?” “Well, becuase she falls in love with the new guy, and he loves her. Oh, and be warned, there’s two endings. Happy and sad. Decide the characters fate yourself.” I wink and he sighs. I watch as he opens the book ‘Tainted heat’ By Billiejo Priestley, and begins to read. It’s almost low level smut. I didn’t want to give him something where it goes too indepth, I can save that for next time.

There was something about him that drew me in, something that made me want to know him on a deeper level. And so, as we lay there, our bodies entwined and our hearts beating in time, I knew that this was just the beginning of our story. The aftertaste of chili flakes lingered on my tongue, a faint echo of the inferno that had just raged between Spencer and me. It wasn’t the first time we’d used a little spice to liven things up, but this time, the heat seemed to linger in the air long after our bodies had cooled. Spencer, however, wasn’t finished fanning the flames. He lay sprawled on the bed, a picture of post-coital smugness. “Thanks for that,” he said, his voice dripping with something fa

He glanced up at us and his lips tugged into an almost smile. “You’re cooking?” Ros arched a brow. As soon as Dom returned a nod, she sped into the kitchen. “Oh, hell no! I’m not eating shit by you.” “I’m not that terrible of a cook, so move aside,” Dom said, but Ros didn’t listen and pinched his arm. “Stop it! You’re not a good cook, either.” “At least, mine’s better than yours.” Ros turned to me and asked, “Would you rather eat burned lasagna or one with extra grated cheese and spice?”

This is going to be nice, I just know it. I spend hours cooking, snacking, reading, and it feels like a dream. My fae romance novel takes me to a land that doesn’t resemble my life and I’m so happy to lose myself in it. I’m reading along happily when I come across a word that strikes me dead. Mates. Great. Just what I was trying to forget about. I put it down and pull out the other book I brought, a historical fiction novel. No mates here, no way. Dinnertime creeps around and I spend a while making a nice risotto with a side salad and garlic bread. It’s so good it borders on s*x.

"You have a fire in your soul, Celess. A passion for life that I find... intoxicating. I wanted to share that with you." Celess felt her heart racing in her chest. She had always been drawn to danger, but this was different. This was the ultimate forbidden romance, and she didn't know if she was ready for it. But as she looked into Steve's dark eyes, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew that she wanted to spend it with him. Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Steve's neck, pressing her lips to his in a fierce, passionate kiss. As they kissed, she felt like she was finally home.

Sinclair watching us lazily from his seat on the couch, his protruded cock still bobbing as he puffed on his cigar. His eyes met mine and he smirked. Something about how sensual it was made my stomach tickle. He crushed the butt of his cigar on the ashtray, still holding my gaze. He poured whiskey slowly into a glass cup, and my eyes flickered his fingers closed round the glass as he swirled the liquid slowly, and brought it to his lips. When I looked up, his eyes were still holding mine down, black with lust. His gaze flickered down to my breasts, and my stomach kicked when he bit his lips.

I felt her arch just a fraction into my touch, her perfume wrapping around me… something expensive and filthy, like jasmine and pure sex. We reached the rare books room, the air thick with the smell of aged paper, polished wood, and now… the faint, sweet musk of two women who were already wet for each other. I pulled the volume from its shelf, handling it carefully, and handed it to her. Our fingers brushed… and stayed. The spark was instant, electric, shooting down my spine and making my cunt throb so hard I had to bite my lip.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon, expensive cigars, and the cheap, thrilling musk of a woman who wasn't my wife. Beatrice, my wife's younger sister, stood by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, her fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound classics. She was wearing a dress that was a direct insult to Bianca-shorter, tighter, and cut so low it was practically an invitation for a lawsuit. She knew exactly what she was doing. She'd been doing it for years.