Historical Romance Novels Read Online Novels & Stories

Not the first-edition, obscure ones she collected. To his constant amusement, her guilty little pleasure was binge-reading supernatural romance stories. Real trash—about werewolves, ghosts, vampires and the like. Books that were shockingly racy and nevertheless a total waste of paper and ink. She bought them online, so that even her husband didn’t know, and disposed of them discreetly in a public trash on her way to work once she’d finished them a scant few hours later. Of course, Duke had also read them.

Of all the people she had mistakenly bothered, it had to be the man who Lady Francine had dubbed these days as ‘a jerk’. He had on reading glasses and a book in his hand that had a dark blue hardcover with the title ‘Veranda’. One of the ones she saw in the shop and the one that nobles and commoner ladies alike are reading recently. A romance story about a country bumpkin who swept the attention of a widowed man who has a daughter. She didn’t see the appeal of it so just chucks it up as generic romance. The women of Polvaros seem to be enamored with it, however. Maybe her taste in books is broken since even Rodrick, who his mistress has to describe as a soulless man, was enjoying his time wi

What differentiates us is that I was not born or turned, I'm good with sunlight and I could stay long without thirst for blood. I love getting involved with human businesses because they at least changed my boring life. A human even led me to meet the most exciting thing ever in my life, and that thing is.... Romance novels. I accidentally got it from a boy one day and now am obsessed with them. I enjoy reading them, especially the ones authorized by Jenny Alfred. I always wish to get the kinds of love she portrays in her novels. I fell in love with her books and now I really want to meet her.

She felt his aura and smell long before seeing him walk in. Damien walked in and his eyes fell on Ada curled up on a couch reading a book. The woman managed to look fashionable even in comfortable casual clothes. A pair of large green eyes met his and she nodded in acknowledgement. Her entire body barely covered two thirds of the couch. He took the empty space next to her feet. “What are you reading?” “It’s about a hetaera, practically a Greek geisha,” she explained. “Historical fiction?” “Almost, she might have or might have not existed.” She looked at him curiously. “It is my favorite genre though.”

He never shielded me from the heartache in the pages of those books but used them as a tool to teach me about life, history, hopes, and dreams. It wasn’t until my teen years that I discovered my love of romance. What began by dipping my toes into the historical greats affectionately termed ‘bodice rippers’ took on a different tone when I was a senior in high school. I discovered the world of erotic romance. I’d always been taught that literature was a gateway for the imagination so I never dreamed that some people would frown on the romance genre as lower quality literature. After all, with a history of such utter trash like Wuthering Heights and The Old Man and the Sea being named classics,

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."

I am as exciting and predictable as a loaf of sliced white bread. Anyway, back to my story. The traffic started moving, and off he went, leaving behind the lingering scent of tobacco. At work, I had trouble concentrating, and spent most of the day creating racy vignettes in my head with us as the feature characters. Let's be honest; I have a very vivid imagination. The closest I've been to a hot steamy encounter is courtesy of the pages of my endless supply of paperback romance novels. I'm not the kind of girl that attracts hot, sexy men. In fact, I've been called an ice queen by more than one guy. But when I'm in the middle of one of my books, I am sensual, daring, sarcastically humorous, a

This is going to be nice, I just know it. I spend hours cooking, snacking, reading, and it feels like a dream. My fae romance novel takes me to a land that doesn’t resemble my life and I’m so happy to lose myself in it. I’m reading along happily when I come across a word that strikes me dead. Mates. Great. Just what I was trying to forget about. I put it down and pull out the other book I brought, a historical fiction novel. No mates here, no way. Dinnertime creeps around and I spend a while making a nice risotto with a side salad and garlic bread. It’s so good it borders on s*x.

The name of a certain novel came inside of her mind— The Lady's Possessive Prince— and thinking about it, she found it funny how she had to dream about the novel now. The novel was quite popular amongst her workmates, and the reason she took interest in it was because of how the female lead had the same name to her— 'Seraphine'. Reading it, Seraphine got to learn how it took place in the western historical setting, and the era wasn't quite clear to her. The story centered around the female lead, 'Seraphine'. Like all the female lead, 'Seraphine' was kind and well-liked by most around her, and throughout the story, she gained love of more people.

I forced my brain to assimilate the words until I couldn't take it any longer. I loved reading, in fact I had huge collections of crime and mystery novels because they were my favorite genre, but romance and historical . . . anything? Count me out. There was just something about ‘soulmates’ and romance that just grossed me out and the fact that this book had both just made me hate it. I stretched and yawned as I reached for my bed. I fell on my bed, face down. I didn't bother with my purple and white duvet as I let myself fall into slumber, Kenneth's smiling face the last thing I thought of.