Historical Romance Read Online Novels & Stories

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.”

com - "Femme Fatale: The Queen Of Chess" (Has similar tech-mafia themes as that was my favourite plotline personally in contemporary romance I'd suggest to give it a read.) "Bitten By A Loveless Noble Vampire" (Is a wonderful dark medieval romance with vampires and other mythological stuff. I love how gory and dark it is with the utmost sexual tension between the duo.) "Criminally God" (Is a Male Lead book with a system, demons and a vampire main character. I was inspired by Eoin Colfer and fused his style with my own and in fantasy genre.)

‘What book is it? ‘Hangover Abbey or something.’ ‘Not Northanger Abbey ? Jane Austen?’ She nodded. ‘About some stupid girl who thinks somebody’s murdered somebody or something and makes a complete prat of herself.’ Bells were ringing like mad in Claudia’s head. ‘I had to do that at school too.’ Anoushka folded her arms. ‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me you liked it.’ Claudia felt a pang of sympathy for poor old Sister Bernadette, who’d tried so hard to make them all enthusiastic about literature - ‘It’s really terribly amusing, girls, if you can just get over these silly prejudices about nineteenth- century language.*

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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.

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

In The Anderson’s Private Ship: Claire Anderson had just worn her favorite dress, it was a purple dress that had a bow at the top of it. It was too pretty and it made her hazel eyes look more pretty. She unwrapped her popsicle as she made her way to Warren’s side of the ship. Claire was only eight years old but she was very much in love with her betrothed husband. After her parents saw that Claire cared about Warren and loved him very much, they didn't waste time engaging the both of them. Warren was a handsome young boy, they feared other women will take him away from their only child when he grows older.

I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews. Most of my stories were about older women with guys my age and Miss Ross had been the inspiration for many of them. Most of my female leads had the same long dark hair, big brown eyes and perfect full lips as my favorite English teacher. Yes Miss Ross had been the nasty little cougar in my mind and in print many times over the last few months. Shit, I'd even joined her writing discussion group because it met every other Sunday at her house.

It was my first time visiting a library, but I was extremely bored, and in the past, reading had cured my boredom. When I was younger, around the age of fifteen, I was housed with a couple who loved reading. They had a room in their home that was solely dedicated to their books. Three out of the four walls were lined corner-to-corner with built-in bookshelves, and one of the walls was solely for my foster mother. On her shelves was where I found my favorite genre, historical romance. The fourth wall was a reading nook, and I found myself sitting on the nook, my legs tucked underneath me, encaptured by novels written by Johanna Lindsey, Lisa Kleypas, Julia Quinn, and Julia Garwood, just to na

She clasped her hands together, her eyes shined more brightly, and for a second, he took his time to examine it, her eyes shining beautifully. "So, this is my old bookstore where I used to come and purchase books. I mostly read books about law, and best sellers." It was as if she wanted to tell him a secret, because she appeared shy now. "I also read romance novels here." Sucker up. He was supposed to be frowning right now, but then, he was walking along the stacks, "Who are your favorite authors?" She seemed excited to talk to him, had she never said this to anyone before? She fastened her steps, her strapping her blazer over her white shirt underneath, "Julia Quinn! I love her historical r