Novelas y relatos de Books Romance

I’m damn proud of it, and I’m glad I didn’t give up after the first fail. I’ve discovered that I get into those fantasy stories where one person knows who his or her soul mate is upon meeting them, or even before that, as what happened in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas, A Kinda Fairy Tale series by Cassandra Gannon, and many of the shifter books by Eve Langlais that I have loved so much. So that’s where I came up with the Love Mark idea.

“Shouldn’t come in? Shouldn’t tell you how fucking hard it is to keep my hands off you? You kissed me back, Malia so don’t bother pretending.” “That was…” she stammered, hugging the book against her chest like it was armor. “That was a mistake.” I smirked, climbing onto the edge of her bed, ignoring the way she shrank back against the headboard. “Funny. It didn’t feel like a mistake, it felt like you finally stopped lying to yourself.” Her chest rose and fell too fast. I could see it in her eyes, panic tangled with want. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

The pull in your chest like an invisible rope tying you to another person, the overwhelming need to be close to them, to touch them, to never let them go, the certainty deep in your bones that this person was meant for you and you were meant for them. THE MATE BOND! I felt the bond, I felt it too..but this ? This didn't make any sense, rhis couldn't be right. "You're beautiful, Ara," Kael said again, still running his fingers through my hair, he was smiling at me with Nathan's face and it was the softest, most genuine smile I'd ever seen on those features. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. My eyes were burning and I knew they had to be turning

"What do I need to do, sir?" His expression grew even darker. "Are you in for this bet?" "I'll leave it to your discretion," I answered. That response seemed to infuriate him. I could see his grip on his wine glass tighten, his knuckles turning white. "Fine, let's bet." The cards were dealt, and the game was on. I did not get the rules of the game, but the vibe? That I could read like an open book. Everyone was as still as statues, barely breathing.

And not just any romance—dark romance, enemies-to-lovers, mafia romance, arranged marriage, all the subgenres I devoured in private. "This is our most popular section," Edward said, noticing my reaction. "Romance readers are loyal. And they buy a lot of books." "I can see that." Next to it was fantasy. Then a section labeled "Romantasy" that made my heart skip. Sarah J. Maas. Jennifer L. Armentrout. Rebecca Yarros. All my favorites, beautifully displayed. "You read?" Edward asked. "Yeah. A lot, actually." "What genres?" "These, mostly." I gestured to the romance and fantasy sections. "Dark romance. Romantasy. Anything with morally gray characters and impossible love stories."

"Whatever happened to love each other first then... then doing the deed after. Is everyone after physical contact only these days? What about getting to know each other first? Chivalry? Romantic date?" I sighed and stopped spinning, facing my laptop and visiting a bookstore's site to see what books sell. Ah, of course, my book wouldn't be in the top 10, and I didn't hope so; what's staring back at me is the top 10 best-selling books for the week, where five of ten are Erotic Romance books. "And I thought my company wouldn't be like other companies who are after profit; I was wrong. Then again, business is business."

Arielle rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Suit yourself.” She wandered into a bookstore nearby. The cool smell of paper and wood filled the small space. For the first time all day, she felt relaxed. No tense silences. No careful conversations. Just quiet. After twenty minutes she returned outside with a book in her hands. Roman glanced at the cover. “Romance?” “Absolutely not.” “Looks suspicious.” “It’s historical fiction.” “Same thing.” Arielle laughed despite herself. “You’re impossible.” Roman opened the car door again.

Susan blushed, and Alexei tilted his head, curious. “Weird books? Now I’m interested.” “They’re just fiction. Suspense, mystery… Sometimes romance.” She shrugged modestly. “Romance?” He raised an eyebrow. “The sugary kind or the ones that keep you up all night reading?” She bit her lip, thoughtful. “The ones that make you think. I like imperfect characters. Relationships that are built over time. Real feelings, you know?” Alexei’s smile remained, but his eyes grew more attentive. “You don’t believe much in instant passions?”

A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night. A shrill voice announced, "The time has come. Let the bride enter!" A black carriage, lavishly decorated yet unsettling, rolled in slowly. The door opened, and a bride in a blood-stained wedding dress stepped out gracefully. "Where's my groom?" George hurried over, waving for the puppets to drag me away. He pointed at the players seated at a long table. "My lady, please take a look. Which one do you favor?" The bride lifted her veil. Blood slid down her face like melting wax. Her crimson eyes swept across the crowd. "I'm not satisfied with any of them. Not a single one looks pleasing."

I leaned in a fraction of an inch, a teasing glint in my eyes, "I prefer classic literature. Russian realism, psychological thrillers. Dostoyevsky, Fitzgerald, Hemingway. I like substance." "Substance?!" Ruby mocked, completely offended. "Are you implying my romance novels don't have substance? Excuse you, but enemies-to-lovers tropes require intense psychological maneuvering! The angst! The tension! It's art, Alexander. Your little Russian thrillers have nothing on a slow-burn romance."