Good Mystery And Romance Books Novels & Stories

"This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself." Nanny laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, Isa. You’re making it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world. Just imagine it—a forbidden workplace romance, secret glances, and the tension! Oh, how thrilling! The babysitter and the boss. You’ve already got the perfect setup." I glare at her. "Nanny, stop. He’s my boss, and he has a child. A cute child, by the way, who is clearly going through something. I’m not about to entertain any fantasies about him."

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I bet romance," she smiled sideways. He had a nice smile. Nate wasn't ugly at all, quite the opposite. -And I bet just because I'm a girl you think I like romance. But yes, a little bit. I prefer mystery and horror though. Dark stuff. -I looked at him. Nate was closer now. -Do you like dark things? -He wanted to know, his tone was thick and so manly, it triggered something inside me. His eyes had something in them that left me half-idiotized for a moment. I cleared my throat and came out of my trance, picking up the first book I found. It was thick, blue. It had a rather striking cover. The mysterious death of Max. That was the name of the book. It really caught my attention. -Do you like it

And maybe, though I'd never admit it out loud for the little girl with terrified eyes who'd watched her whole world burn. --- ★ Cassie's POV ★ I woke to the sound of rain against glass and the unfamiliar softness of expensive sheets. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Then it all came rushing back. Sam's threats, the desperate escape through the storm, the collision with a stranger, strong arms catching me before I fell. Rafael. I sat up slowly, my body aching from the night's ordeal. I was in a large bedroom with minimalist decor, dark woods, clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows showing a view of the city I didn't recognize.

Most of them were what I expected—books on strategy, history, a few on Italian mafia politics. And then, tucked on the bottom shelf, almost hidden— "You weren't kidding about these?" I pulled one out, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" "Put that back." "The Duke's Dangerous Desire," I read aloud, grinning. "A Rake's Redemption. The Highlander's Captive Bride—" "Jameson." Her voice was sharp, but I could hear the embarrassment underneath. "Put them back." "I'm not judging," I said, turning to face her. "I'm just surprised. You kill people for a living, but you read romance novels?"

I thought about the way this stranger has made me feel and it made a small flicker of smile touched my lips. Maybe Lee was right. Maybe our sex was boring. Because when Lee made love, this stranger fucked instead. For me, there was a difference between the two of them.

❦ Rosalind ❦ Days ago, I couldn’t tell you what sin smelled like. But now, ribbons of desire, lust, and danger wafted around me, drawing me further into the interior of Dominic’s private penthouse in Tribeca, overlooking the Hudson River. Faces in the shadows, crisp suits, women of every flavor speckling the room like handpicked butterflies. I felt those same butterflies in my belly as he led me by the hand up to the bar with an onyx countertop.

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.”

Cassandra sat quietly by the window of the small coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans mingling with the crisp pages of the book in her hands. Outside, spring was in full bloom—leaves shimmered in the sunlight, and the occasional breeze stirred the ivy growing up the side of the building. Her book, a worn paperback about native plant life and ecosystems, was one she had read before, but she always returned to it like an old friend.

Blushing vigorously, I turn quickly and power walk back to duty-free. I can’t believe he remembers my reaction to romance books. Of course, he’d remember to him it seems like yesterday even though it was years ago. I am hating it more and more, knowing that Greg has no memory of the last two years. It is the one thing about this I keep forgetting myself, ironically. In duty-free I look for their book section and try and find a good book to read after I finished reading Stuck in Paradise with You by Laura Carter. How funny that, how this book played out, I now have to live it. So, I look for something a little more darker. Maybe a mafia or even a fantasy with werewolves, I don’t know. Taking