English Romance Books Novels & Stories

"You're going to help me? How? And with what?" Kento's grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am going to help you with your mission: Operation Romancing my Husband." I frowned. "Operation Romancing my Husband?" Kento nodded. "Yep. That's what you are going to do. Since you two got married without building the most important foundation, which is love, you will have to start building it from scratch. We've already got one of the ingredients: you, being madly in love with my asshole best friend. Now we only need the second ingredient, and that is to make Navid fall for you too."

He never shielded me from the heartache in the pages of those books but used them as a tool to teach me about life, history, hopes, and dreams. It wasn’t until my teen years that I discovered my love of romance. What began by dipping my toes into the historical greats affectionately termed ‘bodice rippers’ took on a different tone when I was a senior in high school. I discovered the world of erotic romance. I’d always been taught that literature was a gateway for the imagination so I never dreamed that some people would frown on the romance genre as lower quality literature. After all, with a history of such utter trash like Wuthering Heights and The Old Man and the Sea being named classics,

I tilted my head to read the spine of the book nearest to her. "The Complete Works of Lord Byron." "Byron was a scandal in his time," she said with a small smile. "All that passionate poetry and romantic drama." "Sounds exhausting." She laughed, and the sound made something warm unfurl in my chest. "You would say that. You probably prefer your emotions filed alphabetically and color-coded." "Hey," I protested, though I was fighting a smile. "I have emotions. They're just very well organized." "Mmm." She pretended to consider this seriously. "And where exactly do you file 'attraction to the help'?"

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Men think wiggling their eyebrows at us or doing what you were doing is sexy, but really, it isn’t, especially when you’re dressed like that.” I shrug and slump on the bed next to her. “I just thought it was romantic, you know?” She leans over to the side of the bed and pulls out a romance book from under the pillow. “Use this. It’s the best manual for what girls really like.” I take the book and study the cover. A man is kissing the neck of a woman whose blouse is slightly off her shoulder. “Blah,” I say and toss the book to the side. I actually think I’ve read it before.

His eyes moved over me with the inventory quality and registered nothing unusual. I had been kissed in the rain by another man four days ago. He saw nothing. We sat at dinner and he talked about London and the meetings and the outcomes and I nodded at the correct intervals and asked the questions that demonstrated appropriate engagement and inside the performance, underneath it, in the place he had never once found access to, I was somewhere else entirely. I was in a narrow bookstore aisle with aged paper around me and a voice reading Keats at low volume. I was under an awning with rain coming down and warm hands at my face and a mouth that had known exactly what it was doing.

“I haven’t even met him.” “Exactly!” she shouted. “That’s worse! Falling for someone you’ve never seen is peak disaster energy.” “I’m not falling for anyone.” “Good.” She pointed at me again. “Because emotional damage is expensive. And I know you. You fall for men with mystery, danger, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab you.” “I do not!” “You SO do.” Mira narrowed her eyes. “And this man sounds like he invented cheekbones.” I let out a breath and slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Nora brought white roses when she visited me in the hospital. She fumbled with the flowers, accidentally tipping over the vase and spilling water everywhere. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Natalie," she babbled, scrambling to clean up the mess. "I didn't mean to do that." "It's fine," I said, even though nothing really was. She sat down, nervously fiddling with the edge of her skirt. It was a fancy Chanel, a present from Francis, but I was the one who had picked it out. "Natalie, have you and Francis been at it again?"

book to a specific page I had marked and handed it to him. "Just read." I watched Lorenzo's reaction, which went from a frown to eyes wide in shock. "What?... is this a p**n book?" "It's not a p**n book," Andrea said in a reprimanding tone. "It's The Señorita!" I said in an admiring sigh followed by Andrea. "This book is about a romance between a Spanish cook and a lady of the aristocracy! A forbidden romance between a rich lady and a commoner! Ahhh..." I sighed. "The writer who wrote this book is anonymous, her pseudonym is Madame Louis. The cover, based on a recipe book, is discreet and is a hit with women!"

“Tight, wet, loud for me. My secret mate.” “Yours,” I agreed, emotions raw. “Now shut up and fuck me like you mean it.” Kael grinned against my mouth. “As you wish, little wolf…”

I asked, looking down at her. “Yes wait no. I mean no.” Elena answered, shaking her head rapidly looking back up for a few seconds then back down folding the clothes. “Alright then.” I said leaving the topic at that and started to pick up the books and place them in the box. She had a lot of books. Mostly books about romance and a few about dark romance.There were also a few school books about biology, astrophysics, chemistry, physics and engineering etcetera. “Miss Romano.” Elena called out.