Books With Suspense And Romance Novels & Stories

“So now… tell me, have you guys done it yet?” I swallowed, suddenly feeling shy. I looked down at my book on the table, pretending to be interested in the notes. “Done what?” Susie smirked. “You know… kissed?” “Oh,” I whispered, relieved. For a second I thought she meant something else. “We have. I mean, isn’t that the first thing couples do? We had a date yesterday. We definitely kissed.” “Ohhhh!!” Susie gushed loudly, not caring that a few heads turned our way.

The air is still and quiet, filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered. I select another volume and add it to my ever-growing pile. The worn leather spines creak as I pile another stack of books into my arms. Their dusty pages call to me, begging to be opened and explored. I hoisted the stack of books higher in my arms, struggling to keep them balanced. There must have been at least two dozen volumes weighing down my arms, ranging from gothic horror to historical romances, all consists of something dark.

“What's going on? Maria? How are you here?” “You're not so sneaky early in the morning, babe. Also, I got the same message, only with a different time on it.” Her hands trailed down Janet's hips. God, this is so wrong, so awkward that she had to catch her literally cheating with her Professor. But a sick side of Janet didn't want her to stop. She wanted more. “Oh, come on, JayJay. When was the last time we had a spark like this in our relationship? Something to keep it burning bright and alive?” She slid her hand down Janet's stomach to her waist and then to her p***y.

I watch intently with my brows raised as he removes a sizable oil painting from its place on the wall, unveiling a hidden safe that had been seamlessly integrated into the structure. I pivot on my heel and survey the colossal collection of books that had escaped my memory until now. The tips of my fingers delicately graze the uppermost edges of the book spines as my eyes glide over the titles. My fingers hover over one book in particular. It's a book that is very improper in Alessandros’ collection. This book is a historical romance novel written by Sylvia Day. One of Roses’ all-time favourite authors. Curiosity gets the better of me and I start to slide the book out, “come here, tesoro.” I

Here is a list of my current books: *A Rancher's Fall (Romance) *A Chance At Love (Romance) *A Hint of Misunderstanding (Werewolf Romance) Thank you again. Happy Readings

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

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,

The run was wild and exciting, and the breeze that whirled around and slapped my skin made the journey more thrilling. I felt so much adrenaline rushing through my veins, accompanied by goosebumps that shot through every part of my skin in nothing else but a pleasurable sensation. The sweetness was out of this world, and all I could think of was the moment I would finally save her life. Death was the only thing I dreaded so much because it was the end of any dreams or wishes. I don't know what I feel for that wolf girl, but at all costs, she has to be alive until I realize what it truly is.

Her eyes brightened at the sight of the books. “Good morning, dear. Any recommendations for a book to curl up with?” she asked, voice warm but tinged with hesitation. I folded my novel shut and looked up, offering her the practiced smile that hid the iron beneath. “Depends on what you like. Something light? Something dark?” She hesitated, then said, “Dark, but with hope.” I tapped a book nearby, The Night Circus. “This one weaves mystery and magic, but underneath, it’s a story about trust and power.”

“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.