Harlequin Romance Novel Covers Novels & Stories

I asked, my voice laced with curiosity. She let out a slight chuckle. “It’s not hard to spot a harlequin. Just as they have double skin colour, it's also in their eyes and a patch similar to their fur colour on their human skin. So you can always spot a harlequin anywhere.” I hummed, nodding at what she had said, lost in thought. How was I to find a harlequin, if Ruby a citizen of Dark moon pack has proven that there isn't any within the pack, how would I find it. Or was it in Blackwood pack.

Just more proof that Noah was a rich kid through and through. I snorted, reaching for the last book on the bottom shelf. It was placed weirdly from sight and it seemed to be wrapped with brown paper. Curiosity got the better of me and I ripped the paper away, wanting to see what book it was. Probably some first-edition Charles Dickens. But when I turned it over to look at the cover, my eyes widened. Two shirtless hunks tangled up together stared back at me from the cover. It could have as well been a cover for gay p**n.

She must have exhausted herself with all that training. I moved quietly into the room, intending to just take the book so it didn’t fall and wake her. My hand closed around the spine, lifting it carefully. The cover made me pause. A shirtless man with a woman pressed against a wall, his hand tangled in her hair. The title was something generic…“Forbidden Desire” or some shit like that. It was an explicit romance novel. I almost smiled. My little sister, reading dirty books. It was kind of adorable, actually.

I'm ready for sleep, but first, I'm going to start this new romantic book about demons. Humming to myself, I leaf through the introduction pages but find myself drawn to the cover image. It's somewhat distracting. There is a shirtless demon daddy on the first page. He has dark hair, blazing eyes and a nice tattoo on his chest. I giggle as my fingers touch his abs. "Of course, you have a six-pack..." I mutter. "You must be heavily retouched. Men like this don't exist in real life, but damn, whoever designed you sure was talented..."

I ran to the romance shelf first and started checking from side to side and I still did not see anything. I sighed in confusion because I had thought that I was going to see the clue in the romance section. I went to the section for fantasy books and I kept checking each side of a book, my eyes caught on a very attractive cover and I smiled before pulling it out. The cover was so beautiful and I read the title, 'Curse Of The Wolves'. It was written by my favorite author in the world, Jane Doe. I had read all of her books and all are a masterpiece and I had no doubt that the one I held in my hands was going to be a great read as well.

I lean against the door frame, crossing my arms over the chest. “I don’t know, I picked this up from Bianca’s table in her office. It happened this book is actually a romance.” Showing me the cover of a half-naked man. “And since when you like reading a romance novel?” She barks into laughter. “I’m actually having fun. The guy is an asshole and the woman is a demure type.” “Uh, a stereotyped bad boy, playboy. I know you have a thing for that kind of guy.” I don’t know why suddenly I feel a pang in my chest. She’s already my wife, but still, I’m jealous of her imaginary guy.

His deliberate cruelty skewered Harley’s heart and she blinked back the rush of tears that burned her eyelids. “How dare you?” she whispered thickly. “Don’t try and appease your guilty conscience by blaming me. You wanted to get rid of me because you’d set your sights on Chantal Auclair. She was fresh, exciting, voluptuous… Like a juicy orange, ready to be squeezed by Armel Mathieu de Roquefort. You were determined as hell to make Chantal your next mistress, but the stupid little English ex-mistress who was pregnant with your child would have seriously… cramped your style… N’est-pas, chérie? (Isn’t it, sweetheart?)”

The need to have something that belongs to her in my hands overpowering the need to wrap them around his throat. Bart tries a few more numbers while I study the novels stored carefully in the old bookcase. I recognize a lot of fantasy books, some historical novels and a lot of romance novels. My fingers caress the backs of the novels until one in particular speaks to me. 'Tears of Tess.' I caress the front of the paperback. The cover is simple with the middle half of a woman on the front and the title crossing it. I flip it over and read the blurb. My eyes skim over the text as a small smile plays across my lips when I finish reading.

“I was good with doing the four dates. I thought it was going to be fine, and it would die down, until you put me on the book cover. How the fuck did you get it done so fast? How? I asked a friend of mine in publishing, and they told me covers take months and months to approve.” “It a special favor my editor called in with her boss. Her boss loved the new cover so much they halted production and went with it. Come on, Cruz. The cover is smoking hot. It’s sexy even. You should be proud to be on the cover of a Perris Brooks novel. My last five books all hit the top five in contemporary romance and sci-fi romance.” “Proud? Did you see the life-sized cutouts? How did you get them all printed so

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and