College Romance Novels Novels & Stories

Was it from a novel Paige had read before? "What? Do you also think I'm right?" Chris asked with a smile. Paige refuted, "You should read fewer messy novels." Who would have thought that someone like Chris, a CEO, actually liked reading all sorts of romance novels? Did he ever imagine himself in those novels, fantasizing about being the male lead? Chris said, "I don't read any messy novels. I read the painstaking works of the authors." Paige was at a loss for words. Did she also not read the authors' painstaking works? Such double standards.

The car was silent for almost a minute before Anthony started to speak. “The fourth rule shall be; us displaying public affection but being ourselves in private.” “PDAs? Like what?” “Hugging, holding hands, and kissing.” I almost choked on my spit at the last thing he said. He wanted to actually do romantic things in public, with me. “K-kissing?” Anthony nodded with a look as if I was supposed to know about the rule. “We will need to do those things in public to deceive people. People on social media are smart, babe. They can sense bullshit from just posting one word. I said this before, Sandy. So, yes. The fourth rule will be; romance in public, friendship in private.”

This might come as a surprise, given that I’m the workaholic type who rarely gets involved in relationships, but I wasn’t always like this, especially during my college years. I completed college at the young age of 18 and finished my master’s degree in just a year. Not to brag, but facts are facts. I met Helen two years into college, and we spent a year together before I left for my master’s program. Our relationship crashed down just as I was nearing the end of my studies. I must’ve been 19 then, right? I don’t care to recall the details of how we met or how things ended. And right now, I don’t have even the slightest feeling for her, which makes me wonder if I ever loved her in the first

George said, "What?" Lucas asked, "A love novels catalogue?" Charles asked, "Did you send it to the wrong place? Did you actually plan to send it to your girlfriend instead?" Christin said, "Girls like to read domineering CEO related romance novels. Dear guys, please read them carefully, study them, and try your best to please or flatter your wife. This is a catalogue of a collection of series I specially chose of storylines about how to spoil the girlfriend. I excluded those storylines that break somebody's heart as I definitely couldn't bear to do that.

“I thought you knew.” His eyes softened. “Knew what?” “I was always yours.” For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he kissed me. Slow. Tender. Certain. And somewhere through the haze of happiness, I found myself thinking— Maybe honeymoon rules could start a little early. _____ Julia- My fingers dug into the invitation. The expensive cardstock crumpled beneath my grip. The elegant rose-gold lettering seemed to burn itself into my brain. YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED

“Do you still remember?” Memories flashed through my mind before I could stop them. The first apartment we rented together after college. Burning pancakes because neither of us knew how to cook. Movie nights on the couch. Him falling asleep with his head on my shoulder while I watched documentaries. Him finally proposing to me in the same spot we had our first date. “I remember everything.” That was the problem, wasn’t it? I wished I didn’t. I wished I could just forget. He took one hesitant step closer.

But Noah’s title stopped me cold. Dirty Desire. A nervous laugh escaped my mouth. Surely, I was imagining things, I had to be imagining things. Surely, this wasn’t what I thought it was. But when I opened the first page, my breath hitched. I couldn't believe my eyes. Noah hadn’t written a romance. He’d written a fantasy. His fantasy, a well detailed one at that. The words became more and more serious with each line: “She’s older, irresistible. Her voluptuous boobs pressed against my mouth”, “her wet pussy clenching tightly around me”, “her big fat ass bouncing against my hips.”

“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.

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."