Great Romance Novels & Stories

He was about to pull away when things were getting pretty intense but she pleaded. “Don’t stop Ronald, I want you....” Raina pulled away from the kiss and let go of her robe. Ronald’s jaw was literally on the carpet. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Raina was in red sexy lingerie which enhanced her well-defined bump. Ronald could feel himself getting hard, he was sure a cold shower couldn’t cure his erection this time around. He wanted her so bad. “This is the best birthday gift, my love, I promise to be as gentle as I can.” He lifted her in a bridal style, ready to make love to the Queen of his Heart. The End.........

He wore a tuxedo that looked molded to his formidable frame, and the cold weariness from his business trip was gone, replaced by a devastating, effortless charm. He didn't acknowledge the tension from the attic. He simply extended his hand, his expression impeccably professional. “Elara. You look exactly as a Conti wife should. Confident. Now, remember the objective: Arthur needs proof that his grandson is capable of softness. Tonight, we are not a financial merger. We are a love story written by the greatest romantic novelist who ever lived.” “I understood the terms, Alessandro,” I replied, allowing my hand to settle into his. His skin was warm and dry, a shocking contrast to the icy demean

“Don’t you know how to be romantic?” My cheeks got so red. He turned to open up for me. How can a man be so sexy and romantic at once? My stomach filled with butterflies that moment. My legs went giggly. Oh goddess. Haez Cuisines was the name. One of the top, popular big names for romantic dates and good food in Italy. I’ve been hearing and seeing the name in the media. It’s such a wonderful privilege. “We’re doing VIPs.” He whispered softly to my ear. I’d already begun to imagine how indoors there would be with this glassy, classic luxury radiating from the outside.

I lifted my hands to his chest, pressed against the warmth of him, and whispered, “I love you, Ethan. I’ve always—” He quieted me with his lips. A slow, sensual kiss that was full of morning, full of sunlight, full of home. The way he kissed me now wasn’t rushed or needy. It was almost...sacred. The kind of kiss that seeps into your very soul and stays there. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing against him as if I could never get close enough. “I’ve been dreaming of this,” he whispered between kisses. “Of you in my arms like this. No walls. No fear. Just us.”

Suddenly, I didn't feel like beating the crap out of him; I wanted to slice him into three-inch pieces and feed him to zoo animals. Klaus: What about you? Who was your best? Rhyland: I don't know if I've ever had a best. All my hookups were of the same level of adequacy. Klaus: And they say romance is dead. Rhyland: It is, though, Cosmos. Think about it. Everything that represents love-flowers, hearts, swans, doves-dies at some point.

I love watching movies. Where I live? I live in a small town named Roselli, weird name right? But there is a legend behind it. There was a girl named Roselli, and she was in love with a guy named Roman, they were madly in love, but Roselli's father didn't approve of their love and married her off to some wealthy guy. cliché right? Roman was so heartbroken that he committed suicide by jumping off a cliff into the sea, calling out his love before jumping. Since then this town is lovers paradise, lovers around the world come to visit the spot Roman jumped from and call out their lovers name. Huh? I don't believe in all this I am in love of this place cause it's my home, there are some pristine

Georgia asks angrily. I know this is my cue to leave, but my feet stay rooted to the ground. I tell myself I don't want to hear his response, but I can't stop my heart from beating fast in anticipation. “Love?” Roman says, laughing in a scornful manner that has my heart dropping to the bottom of my stomach. “Love is not a real emotion, so I do not feel it. What I feel for her transcends mere love. I'm obsessed with her, I live for her.”

It’s midnight blue, with crescent encrusted diamonds that gleam the moment they touch the light and the most elegant yet wonderful bodice design ever. The amount of details put into it astonishes me and my eyes sting with tears when I look at Roman to see him smiling. His voice is sweet as he tells me, “It’s one of a kind, and it has only one match.” I throw myself at him. Roman chuckles as I wrap my arms around his chest, pulling him into a hug. His hands caress my waist and all the locked up emotions in my heart, all the words I cannot say, those words seem to flow through the mate bond and Roman’s words shatter me even further.

His eyes searched mine, not doubting, not testing, honoring the weight of what I meant without forcing it spoken before its moment. “Then stay,” he said softly. I smiled. “I keep doing that.” He stood, bringing me with him, and we moved back toward the window, arms around each other again, bodies aligned, hearts calm. Outside, the world resumed its restless motion. Inside, we didn’t rush to match it. Romance, I realized, isn’t only intensity. It’s recognition. It’s safety. It’s being met, fully, and held there with intention. His chin rested lightly against my hair. My hands rested over his. No performance. No strategy. No armor.

25 March 1820 Rome, Italy Jacob was lounging on a chair and Mrs. Valentina Lombardi, the most sought after courtesan in Rome was sprawled on his lap, her lush body pressed to his as she tried to coax a reaction out of him. He knew all the other men watching him envied him. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the act. Instead of finding her perfume enticing, he found it cloying. The smoke from the cigars made him feel suffocated.