Good Romance Books For 12-year Olds Novels & Stories

I needed to cut her off. "Look, they're doing the walking around the fire thing." She said. I hummed non committal. "I read about it in this book by Drethi Anis. Five thousand nights of obsession. The book was so good." "You read?" I asked. I had never seen any book in her apartment or caught her with a book. "Yes." She blushed, then quietly. "Romance books." "You don't strike me as the romance type." I looked at her intently. "Is it one of those raunchy books with shirtless men carrying scabbards on the cover."

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I gently graze his lips with mine, wetting them with my gentle kiss. He places his hands upon the small of my back and pulls me in closer, kissing me back with a soft and warm passion. His lips and tongue dance with mine—sending spasms of lust spiralling through my core. This first kiss feels so amazing—sensual, passionate, and delicately sexy. The expensive scent of his cologne only further spikes my desire for him. He smells so manly and clean.

I smile sweetly at him. His eyes widen. “How is that romance?” “Well, becuase she falls in love with the new guy, and he loves her. Oh, and be warned, there’s two endings. Happy and sad. Decide the characters fate yourself.” I wink and he sighs. I watch as he opens the book ‘Tainted heat’ By Billiejo Priestley, and begins to read. It’s almost low level smut. I didn’t want to give him something where it goes too indepth, I can save that for next time.

I want her to know how much I want her and want to be with her, but I don’t want to scare her off. “What were you reading on the balcony?” I asked her. “Just a romance book,” she replied. “It’s about a mafia princess who falls in love with a guy in the mafia, but she’s betrothed to someone else. It’s very well written.” “Sounds like a great love story. One you could tell your kids,” I smirked. “Well, probably not all the violence and sex,” Isabella giggled. “True,” I chuckled. “What are you doing tomorrow?” I probed.

I sit on the edge of the bed and pull the blanket up to her chin. “Story,” she demands softly, eyes already drooping. I smile. “You don’t ask. You order.” She grins, entirely unashamed. I reach for the book she picked earlier, a soft-covered children’s romance about a brave princess and a gentle knight who travel across kingdoms to find each other again. I hadn’t thought much of it when she chose it. Now I wonder if children instinctively gravitate toward truths adults try to avoid. I begin reading, my voice calm, warm, steady.

I felt like me when I was with him. Andrew was the first boy I ever kissed. It was the day after my thirteenth birthday, and boys were starting to become interesting instead of gross. We were walking home from the bus stop together, when he told me I was pretty. No one but my dad had ever said that to me, so I turned and kissed him on the lips, trying to replicate the kisses I'd seen in movies. It had felt so awkward, and yet somehow so right to kiss him. Kissing looked so easy, so natural in all the movies, but in real life it was a disaster. He had just stood there, not doing anything but turning bright red. We walked the rest of the way home in silence.

“That rather gives the plot away, no?” I laughed. “Romance novels aren’t known for being subtle.” He plucked the book from my fingers before I could react. He held it over my head as he flipped through it. “Where are the love scenes? Ah, found one.” He raised one golden eyebrow as he began to read aloud: “‘A fire lit in her belly. Damian’s hands were magic. Everywhere he touched, it was like fire across her skin.’” “Oh my God, stop—” He just held the book up higher. Tall people were the worst.

— I'm sure,– I say, my heart sinking in sadness, but I don't want to think about that possibility. A few minutes passed without either of us saying anything. Maybe Luke sensed how sad I was about this topic. — And what is the book about? – he asks again. — It's a romance between two teenagers. Overcoming life, depression. — I'm not a big fan of novels, but I make a point of reading yours. His arms are crossed on the table, his attention fully focused on me. I see my own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, and I realize I can't take my eyes off him. But then that hand grabs her arm and severs all connection between the two of us.

I was only eight at the time and I don't really remember. Aiden finds me in my small library reading a romance book of course. Things that are more embarrassing than having a crush find me sitting in my grandpa's large chair reading a romance novel. He looks at the cover and sees a chiseled bare chest of some man whose name I don't know. Probably a model for some sports magazine. On the cover, he's caressing a lady whose back is turned towards him and her chest is bare and open and exposed. Everything about it is graphic, the way all romance novels are these days. The title is something awful as well something like My Brother's Sexy Best Friend by Jane Doe. I'm not sure who Jane Doe is but s