Historical Western Romance Novels & Stories

Francesca knew this was a no-brainer, of the two men, one was a fifty-one-year-old widow and the other a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. "Ah, Asher Evans it is then, I'll set a date for your first meet with him," Francesca declared when Joan picks the twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. Although Francesca thought it was quite unfortunate that her niece should go on a date with the wicked rascal, she had to concede, desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't understand, why would I go on a date with him?" "I told you it's an old tradition, it's an alliance between families, a marriage of opportunity, but who knows, it might spark some romance you desperately need in your life," Francesca state

How I met him was quite a meet-cute, never have I been in a relationship this passionate. He was everything and supported me, he gave me all I ever asked for. Since I first met him at the club, where I turned from a waitress to a striper, he had always hovered around me. He made me felt special, I could see his love for me in his eyes. We never had any problems, just small irrelevant arguments. I have been dreaming about the day he would propose to me, to be sincere, I have never been this patient in my life.

#Romance #Thrilling #Suspense #Action #Dramas This is going to be the best of best so don't miss any part. @Authoress Ricky Be expecting this next week readers. I love you all💓💓 Here is a blurb about the book

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.

Roses, a white dress, the guests, the sunshine: it all felt so vivid, yet so surreal. His gaze landed on the empty spot where the bridesmaid should have been, and it all clicked why that seat was unoccupied. Natalie was gone. She was gone forever. She had taken her life. She had done that with his unborn child when she leapt from the 18th floor. It was all because he tampered with her medicine, because he dared her to prove her true love, and because of his whispered lies of forever and always. He did everything to win her heart.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again. At that moment, I felt like asking him about Helen. Why was I so invested in them? My inner thoughts urged me to let it go, but my mouth betrayed me. “Who is Helen? You two seem to have a history together.” I regretted the moment I asked, seeing his immediate reaction. He was silent, and I thought he was ignoring me until he said, “She is my first love.” First love? Leo’s first love was Helen! I was taken aback, but it explained their awkward interactions. What was even more shocking was that Leo hadn’t dismissed my question but had answered honestly.

“It sounds… like it should be yours, only yours. ‘Mon amour.’ My love.” I blushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You know I don’t speak French.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then I will teach you… one kiss at a time.” I laughed, a trembling, delicate sound. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so close I could feel the strength of his desire, the depth of his longing that he had never released. His fingers drifted over my skin, tracing patterns I had never known I knew. Every caress was a poem. Every caress was a confession.

His mom drove us places. Thinking back, I know I wish it was like in the books I read where the man was a man and not a boy. Where he was maybe a little bit domineering, protective, and caring, romantic. A man who took their time to pleasure me. I mean I never even had a man go down on me or use his fingers. It was always strictly dick and their pleasure first and it was either missionary or me riding and I swore all they did was lay there and I did all the work. I haven’t even had sex doggy style. I think I only ever had two orgasms in my life. So far. Because I hope that will change. My personal history is probably why I love smutty books or romance books and movies. I can easily live vica

And they will leave immediately. I don’t want to cheat, of course! Even if it's a forced marriage, it's still not good for a woman to cheat. I just don't know about Callum. This is so frustrating. “How is that?! How can I do that?!” Frustrated, I gulped down the wine that was in the bottle while adjusting myself because I really had no idea about that. How can I seduce my husband?! I already tried to search about how to romance your husband. But there’s just the same context! It’s always about sex! I don’t even have any experience on that thing!

In Argentina, the love between Emiliano Romero, and Maria De La Cruz, bloomed like the September equinox. They finished their weekend, full of energy, and many revolutionized hormones. She was in love with his intelligence, when they talked about medicine she loved to listen to him, she was impressed by so much knowledge. He was falling in love with the simplicity of her soul, her heart and her longing for history.