Books About Mystery And Romance Novels & Stories

"You manage to find time for novels amidst your ever-changing adventures?" A soft smile graced Adrienne's lips as she leaned in, sharing a secret moment between them. "Oh, most certainly. Romance novels, to be precise. Currently, I'm enthralled by 'Love And Everything In-between' by Sarah Raymond. It's an enchanting tale that beautifully captures the essence of love. It resonates with the dreams that dance in my heart," she revealed, her voice filled with a sense of wonder. Ryan couldn't tear his gaze away, captivated by her authenticity and the vivid emotions that colored her words. With a tender gesture, he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind Adrienne's ear, his voice ba

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She clasped her hands together, her eyes shined more brightly, and for a second, he took his time to examine it, her eyes shining beautifully. "So, this is my old bookstore where I used to come and purchase books. I mostly read books about law, and best sellers." It was as if she wanted to tell him a secret, because she appeared shy now. "I also read romance novels here." Sucker up. He was supposed to be frowning right now, but then, he was walking along the stacks, "Who are your favorite authors?" She seemed excited to talk to him, had she never said this to anyone before? She fastened her steps, her strapping her blazer over her white shirt underneath, "Julia Quinn! I love her historical r

She groaned, blinked, and slowly flickered her blue-violet orbs open. Her jaw dropped. She had never seen this part of Dominic's new hotel. The miniature trees, the birds singing, a flowing fountain, and a gazebo. And they were filled with...Roses. Red roses everywhere. On bouquets, on pots, small and large. Boxes and vases. Even where she was standing was deep and wide petals of her favorite flower. She blinked her tears away and cup her mouth. Speechless. "Oh, Rafael," the mafia princess uttered. Without a doubt, this was his doing.

All I had was a mysterious sense of calm. Perhaps his regret was real, but so what? I was no longer the wife he used to hide his true intentions, and I did not want to become his salvation after his regret. “Miss Dawn.” The regular customer called out to me again, waking me from my thoughts. I turned to see him standing next to my table. He was here again today, offering me an intricate leather-bound file. “...I won’t join you,” I declined coldly without even looking at the documents inside.

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.

It was just the shadow of an animal or something. Walking to the cherry bookcases, she allowed her fingers to trace over all the beautiful book covers, surprised at the wide range of genres on display--mysteries, classics, even a romance or two. Her lips quirked up at that. She did not see Nicolai as a romance reader. Plucking one of these romances off the shelf, she retired to the incredibly comfy looking double armchair in front of the fire, intending to read for a few minutes before Nickolai got there and they could explore the promised bath together.

He said; I smiled, “Thanks, Dad,” I told him. We grabbed our coffees and our muffins and sat at a table. We talked for a while before we decided to browse the books. I found one that I thought was really intriguing, The Sorceress’s Lover. I’m not sure why, but I love romance novels. For the longest time, I wondered why I was only writing fantasy; why not romance too? Dad walked over beside me and nodded towards the book, “Are you thinking about buying it?” He asked; I shrugged,

❦ Rosalind ❦ Days ago, I couldn’t tell you what sin smelled like. But now, ribbons of desire, lust, and danger wafted around me, drawing me further into the interior of Dominic’s private penthouse in Tribeca, overlooking the Hudson River. Faces in the shadows, crisp suits, women of every flavor speckling the room like handpicked butterflies. I felt those same butterflies in my belly as he led me by the hand up to the bar with an onyx countertop.