Historic Romance Novels Novels & Stories

He would have, right? I shook my head again and concentrated on the book placed on my lap. It was one of the British, historical romance fictions set during the World War Two. I had randomly picked it up at the bookstore and somehow felt myself drawn towards it. Sappy novel with mopey dialogues and dragged out bits, it still provided me with much needed solace.

I hope that you enjoyed the new updated story for spicing up the ranch. I have quite a few other books listed on GoodNovel if you're interested in my style of writing. Some are erotic stories such as the assistant, Swedish sugar, the alpha son needs his match, and keeping it within the family. I also have science fiction romance such as Stardust. We also have quite a few other romance styles both in the past like a timeless love. And in the present such as the dangers of dating.

“You are not rude, you are a godsend.” Adriana cleared her throat at the glint she saw in his eyes and quickly looked away, letting her gaze wander around the room. “What genre are these?” She asked him and he also stared around. “Educational, historical, gothic, and also…” He leaned in. “Romance.” Her eyes lit up and Marcus chuckled again. “Go on, check it out.” Adriana hesitated a little and raised her brows. “Can I?” Marcus’ nod was all she needed and she ran around the place going from one shelf to the other checking out the names on the covers and her lips lifted when she came to a section and saw the covers.

"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."

"Didn't you ask me to tell you about it?" Daniel broke into a cold sweat. Of all the books she could be reading, she had to pick this one. If one drew a parallel, wouldn't he be the heartless male lead? What if she read on and remembered something from the past... By now, Daniel was sweating all over. "Anyway... romance novels use clichés. They’re all about endless love and stuff. They’re not very meaningful," he said with a forced smile. "You don't plan on writing one too, do you?" "How did you know?" Maisie laughed. "I am thinking about that!"

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."

“You’re staring at each other again.” Noelle’s small voice cut through the thick silence. Sebastian stepped back immediately, releasing Nyra’s arm as if he’d been caught doing something forbidden. Nyra straightened, ignoring the sting in her grazed arm. “We’re not.” “You are,” Noelle insisted. “Like in the movies before they kiss.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Enough.” Sirens wailed outside the lodge. Guests were being ushered away, security shouting instructions. The scent of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixing with pine and melted wax from fallen candles.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this safe, this whole, this… unbroken. He moved slightly, his arm pulling me closer into the warmth of his body. I could feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart against mine. My hair was tangled with his, my cheek resting against the warmth of his chest. The whole experience of waking up like this was like poetry—the quiet, the sunlight, the gentle rhythm of him breathing, and me just being there, with him. He stirred, his voice a murmur in his throat. “Bonjour, mon amour,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the side of my head.

At the bottom of the shelf, though, were a handful of romance novels—in English, no less. I pulled out a historical romance by a favorite author of mine. I hadn’t read this one, and I’d already finished the one romance I’d brought with me. I was a total bore and preferred to read printed books still. Probably because they smelled nice. If e-readers could let out a puff of new-book scent, though, I’d buy one in a heartbeat. “The Seduction of Miss Emily Morris,” Olivier read over my shoulder. “That rather gives the plot away, no?”

In the center of the room stood an imposing mahogany desk with a leather chair. In front of it was a large black chaise longue resting on a round white rug. The atmosphere was luxurious yet discreet. Magnificent. I spent several minutes simply admiring the most beautiful room I had ever entered. Then I slowly walked along the shelves, stopping when I reached Historical Romance. Romance novels were what had brought me this far as a virgin. They were my Achilles’ heel, and there was nothing I could do about it. I picked up my cliché: Pride and Prejudice.