Large Print Romance Books Novels & Stories

he wiggled his eyebrows at me comically and I laughed, nodding. He grabbed one of the boxes swiftly and handed it to me. It was the biggest one because my tiny hands were barely keeping it in place. He had a lazy, urging smile that I found sexy playing on his lips. I looked away from him and unknotted the ribbons. I pried the cover open and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as I retrieved the first book. "André!" I whisper-yelled, my voice laced with awe. Being a bibliophile had its perks because as I looked through the four books, with somewhat modern yet vintage covers in mature colours, alongside intricate golden threadings, I knew they were Fantasy books. Dark Romantasies.

I walked over and looked at the titles. My eyes went wide. "Alpha Dominic? What are these?" He opened his eyes and looked over. Instantly, he jumped off the chair and lunged forward, reaching for the books in an obvious attempt to hide them from me. But I was faster. I picked one up. It had a picture of a man and a woman hugging under the moon. My eyes widened as I realized what it was. "Is this a romance book?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. I felt a giggle bubbling up in my throat. "The Alpha’s True Love?" I read out the title in amusement.

he interrupted. “Stop following me Jax,” I commanded establishing my authority changing the conversation because at the end of the day he was just a massive fan of mine. “No, I want recommendations on books, preferably the slow burns with two people trying to fight their connection when they were soulmates from the moment they met but they were blind.” I know what he was doing. He was trying to describe our romance but ours was a tragedy, not a romance in my books anyway. I huffed annoyed and played his game, by saying “I would recommend Birthday Girl by Penelo-“

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.

He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely. “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling. That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced hims

"You manage to find time for novels amidst your ever-changing adventures?" A soft smile graced Adrienne's lips as she leaned in, sharing a secret moment between them. "Oh, most certainly. Romance novels, to be precise. Currently, I'm enthralled by 'Love And Everything In-between' by Sarah Raymond. It's an enchanting tale that beautifully captures the essence of love. It resonates with the dreams that dance in my heart," she revealed, her voice filled with a sense of wonder. Ryan couldn't tear his gaze away, captivated by her authenticity and the vivid emotions that colored her words. With a tender gesture, he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind Adrienne's ear, his voice ba

I watch intently with my brows raised as he removes a sizable oil painting from its place on the wall, unveiling a hidden safe that had been seamlessly integrated into the structure. I pivot on my heel and survey the colossal collection of books that had escaped my memory until now. The tips of my fingers delicately graze the uppermost edges of the book spines as my eyes glide over the titles. My fingers hover over one book in particular. It's a book that is very improper in Alessandros’ collection. This book is a historical romance novel written by Sylvia Day. One of Roses’ all-time favourite authors. Curiosity gets the better of me and I start to slide the book out, “come here, tesoro.” I

He’d chosen every lamp, the perfect cushion, every soft blanket folded at the corner of the reading chaise. My throat tightened. I didn’t cry, but the tears felt dangerously close. I walked deeper, and the rug under my feet was thick and soft. Everything in here was gentle, thoughtful, and safe. “I can’t believe he did this.” I whispered, barely breathing as I sunk into the chair and felt it comfortably welcome me. I stood back up to pick up a book in the dark romance genre. I felt loved even more and seen. Completely. “What are you going to do now?” Brittney asked, and I smiled at her as she grabbed one of the psychological thrillers.

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."

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