Christian Romance Novelists Novels & Stories

However, I do not have a timeframe for when I will be writing that one as of yet. My novel, "Ruined by my Bosses," is a CEO/Menage romance that is already live on the app with over 30k if you're looking for another book to read. I'm only writing one book at a time from now on, so it will be uploaded daily. I also have a completed quartet on the app that begins with, "Mated to the Alpha of the North," if you're looking for more werewolf romances. Each book focuses on one couple, but the story is interconnected and has wolves, bears, and dragon shifters.

But when a passion led to an unplanned pregnancy, would the wild CEO succumb to marriage? ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Romance Books by Agatha Rose THE SUMMERS SERIES 1. Dark Deception (Declan Summers & Ma Qingshan) 2. Dark Betrayal (Thornton Summers & Ava Smith) ⪼⪼ 3. Taming The Wild CEO (Javier Summers & Ella Stanford) ⪻⪻⪻ 4. Fuck You and All of Your Bullshits (Clarabelle Summers & Dean Westminster)

It's my trusty companion when I need an escape from reality, offering a delicious blend of spice, romance, and exotic adventures that never fails to absorb me completely. As I turn the well-thumbed pages, allowing the captivating world of Christian and Anastasia to draw me in, I can't help but marvel at how this book manages to weave complex characters and intense emotions into such a tantalizing narrative. The intricacies of their relationship, the dramatic twists and turns, and those steamy, passionate scenes capture my imagination every time. It's like visiting an old friend who always has something interesting to share. Over time, I've actually picked up quite a few tricks from this book

Christian greeted politely. “And who is this young lady with you?” one of the businessmen asked, his gaze resting on Camille’s form. Camille resisted a shiver as his eyes roamed over her face and body in admiration. The other men seemed interested as well, turning their full attention to her. Christian’s escapades with other women were mostly under the radar, especially from the media, but those in the business knew of his tendency to date many women. It was rumored that he dated a new woman every month, sometimes several at a time.

I pull my cardigan tighter around me, trying not to look like a woman unraveling on her fourth glass of wine. “I don’t write sex, Chloe. I write romance without all the detailed intimacy, I write about repressed trauma, losing a loved one, mystery, horror even not two people who’ve never met each other dirty talking and moan— oh God.” She takes my wine glass and replaces it with her full one. “Exactly. You’ve built an empire off tragedy. I think your readers are ready to read something based on actual pleasure or erotic tension.” “Ew. Who even reads things like that?”

However, they also acted like everything was peachy. That was high society: all glitter on the outside, a total mess on the inside. Nora came down the aisle on her dad's arm, her dress trailing behind her like something out of a fairy tale. However, she was as pale as a ghost, and her smile looked like it hurt. The show got started. The priest was doing his thing. "Francis Davis, do you take Nora Hunter to be your wife?" Francis was silent. He was scanning the crowd instead, looking for someone.

No, this was the rush I lived for. I uncrossed my legs slowly, letting my short skirt ride up my thighs a bit as I sat forward, my full breasts pressing against my blouse. My nipples were already hard, rubbing against the lace of my bra. I smiled at him, bold as ever. “Because it’s exactly that, Dr. Black. The character isn’t surrendering out of love. She’s wet for the control, the way he pins her down with words and authority before he even touches her. It’s raw. It’s filthy. And pretending it’s just intellectual is bullshit. Don’t you think?”

The cliffside mansion rose like something out of a dark romance novel, all glass and stone overlooking the crashing waves. I arrived at exactly 11 PM, my heart hammering as I clutched my portfolio. My name is Nova Ellis — twenty-four, unpublished romance writer with a drawer full of very spicy manuscripts I’d never shown anyone. Damien Cross opened the door himself. At thirty-six, he was even more striking in person — tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones, tousled dark hair, and piercing steel-gray eyes that seemed to strip me bare with one look.

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."

With a cold edge to her voice, Noelle replied, "Oh, so it's one of those brother-sister romances, with no blood ties involved?" Christian's brow furrowed slightly.