Love Novels Dance Novels & Stories

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."

Christian was back in her life again. Not just him, his family and business also and she wants nothing of it. But he has the answer to her most troubling need and it wouldn't be the worst thing on earth to accept his help, even though he was offering it from a place of resentment. For Christian, Belle left him when he needed her the most. When he was at his deepest hell and needed her by his side. Now, she's back with a problem only he can solve and he has the opportunity to punish her for her crimes. But what happens when his desires for her overshadows the hate he has in his heart? And worse, when he didn't want it to?

Abeni's world turns upside down when her father can't repay his debt to NYC's most dangerous man - Dmitry Kuznetsov. With her freedom on the line, Abeni gets sucked into Dmitry's glamorous yet treacherous domain. Though Dmitry commands her obedience, Abeni feels an irresistible spark with the magnetic crime lord. As the stakes climb higher, she faces an impossible choice - submit to Dmitry's demands or put her family at risk. Torn between loyalty and desire, Abeni engages in a high-stakes game with the cunning kingpin. But Dmitry never loses control - he wants Abeni, and he intends to own her in every way. Will Abeni give in to Dmitry to protect those she loves? Or will she defy the Russian Devil to save herself?

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

The death of her sister shocked Belle but that didn’t stop her to step into the mystery of her sister’s murder. But what if those murderers aren’t done by a supernatural being? Belle’s sister died the day before her marriage. People claimed she had killed herself but Belle didn’t believe the investigation and decided to take it by herself. Everything comes down when she had no rules, and the only way for her to find the bottom of the mystery was to call up a demon. Except, this demon is a willful, selfish, and as handsome as devilish he was. Extract: In fear, Belle tried to dash but a hand had sneaked out from the black fog, holding tightly to her elbow. What followed the tight grip on her arm was a voice that sounded deep— deep enough to sound as though he hell was shallower compared to him. "Now, now, where are you running, little prey?" Belle didn't know what she had done. She didn't know what force had caused her to activate what she did. She didn't know what had happened either as her mind was slow to grasp her surrounding. But there was one thing she knew after staring back at the bright red eyes across her. She was looking at a demon. She had called a demon.

"Sir, do I need to take off my pants just to go through the bone-setting therapy?" With flushed cheeks, I lie on the massaging bed. Henry Irwin, a therapist with an eight-pack, is tugging down my yoga pants as we speak. "If you want to have the best effects, you can't wear pants at all." Henry grips the hem of my pants before tugging them downward slightly. I quickly grab his hand. "I don't think that's a good idea!" The truth is, I'm already flooding down there. I'm worried that he might see how wet I am when he takes off my pants.

Keanna woke up not remembering what had happened to her. She woke up living with a man she barely knew, who seemed to know her but was always expecting her to do different things. What’s worse, he calls her by a different name. The weird dreams, tiredness, voices in her head and forgetfulness. Would they be able to adjust to this reality? How will they coincide with each other?

After being dumped for the 99th time for being a “chatterbox,” I finally met my soulmate, Lysander Thorne. As the Mafia godfather, he was a man of few words, but listened to every single word I said with rapt attention. His proposal shattered the curse that had doomed me to a hundred rejections. But, I discovered a fatal flaw in Lysander after we got married. Whatever he spoke to me, he never exceeded ten words. I thought it was his stoic personality until I gave a hand to a girl being harassed by a thug at the bar. At the police station, the girl asked, “Has your husband not arrived yet? My friend will pick me up and you can leave with us.” The next second, I saw Lysander rushing in, looking utterly disheveled. “Elara Thorne! Why do you stir up trouble on your very first day back home? You've got wings of your own now, haven’t you? Did I ever tell you to stay safe firstly when something happened? Stop being so impulsive!” It turned out Lysander could get emotional. How ridiculous! When Lysander entered, his eyes were solely fixed on Elara. I looked at him with a blank expression, and wordlessly walked out of the police station.

It was my 30th birthday, and my husband said he had a surprise for me. However, on the day of my birthday, he was nowhere to be found. I called him countless times, but no one answered. Just as I was about to panic and consider calling the police, I happened to see a post on the social media feed of his female secretary. “A typhoon hit, and my boss was worried about my safety, so he personally took me home. How wonderful! I’ve got a guardian angel for myself!” My anxiety turned to cold calm in an instant. I commented on her post: “Traveling during a typhoon is dangerous. Tell him he doesn’t need to come back.” Not long after I posted the comment, my husband called. “Kelly, I was only concerned about the safety of my subordinate, and yet you’re thinking such vile thoughts. “Birthdays come every year. Missing one won’t kill you!” You were right. Birthdays came every year. But there was no way I would celebrate them with you.

Sandra Kinsey's dance studio was where she buried her passion. It was also our secret place. No one else was allowed in. No one but me. Until one day, her assistant barged in, using a love for Latin dance as an excuse, and danced with her intimately. Sandra didn't push him away. That was the moment I knew—you can't make someone stay when their heart has already left. I stripped her of her authority, took over the company myself, and gave Sandra all the freedom she could ever ask for. But later, eyes red and voice trembling, she looked at me and demanded to know why. I sat on the couch and glanced at her with indifference. "Freedom," I said, "always comes at a price. Doesn't it?"