Love Reading Novels & Stories

For some reason, I couldn't find my voice. I read about love in romance books. They were actually my favorite books to read —which made it pretty ironic that I couldn't bear to hear the topic whenever it was brought up. Why was I comfortable reading about it in books but not when it was mentioned? Probably because reading it was one thing and experiencing it in real life was another. When I read about the feelings associated with love, it intrigued me. That a single four-lettered word could make someone experience a myriad of emotions both good and bad was an utter mystery.

Enjoy reading! Please tell me some of your comments and suggestion for improvements. I will be willing to learn more and that would be great. Lovelots! -DarkVergent

he's totally loving it. "Fvck! I want to make love to you, honey. I want to taste your beautiful breasts and lick your pussy, honey," he said while slowly rubbing his length. He's imagining her, naked and writhing with pleasure underneath him. "Oh honey!" Alice moaned while stroking her clit. She touched and flicked her hardened nipples. She badly wanted him in hers. Travis cursed once again. He's nearing his limit.

Kayla Michaelson At school I don't have friends to chat too, so I'm always alone when it's break time. I always sit under the tree near the soccer field and read a book every break. I'm on the last chapter and I can't wait to read a new book tomorrow. Yes.. I'm a romance novel freak. They're beautiful and never make me bored in anyway. Too bad there won't be such a thing as a romance love story in real life. For me it's too cliché and too fake to be in reality but I love to read them.. don't judge me!

He hated her and for sure didn’t want her help. Once again, she walked to the same study room and thought of waiting for him while scanning the books. From fictional romance to nonfiction world’s reality, there are hundreds of books to engage the readers. Her finger senses the spine of books like she could feel the words inside it, reading them softly, when Samson entered the room quietly.

"Not amused. What would you like to have? I'll order for it," "Another cup of coffee; no sugar, no creme," Shola replied, her eyes not moving away from the book she was reading. Solano just stared at her, amused. He ripped the book from her hand and moved a few feet away from the bed, "Why are you reading a cheesy romance novel?" He waved the book playfully in the air. "Uhh, because I'm bored and not willing to die from it. Give me back my book Solano," "Am not stopping you from getting it, now am I?" He grinned maliciously,

ader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child

Untіl thеn, I ѕіt and thіnk аnd wonder. I thоught not wоrkіng would drіvе mе crazy wіth bоrеdоm, but I lіkе thе peace аnd ԛuіеt. I like thаt I can juѕt read аnd gо оnlіnе. I’vе dоwnlоаdеd ѕоmе good bооkѕ lately. I love reading those juісу, old fаѕhіоnеd romances.

"Well, sometimes I watch T.V. I like, well, love to read. So I do that a lot when I'm alone." "Like what? Romance, crime thrillers?" I shrugged. "Sometimes. I really like the classics. Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, George Elliot (who was a woman, by the way). I also like the Russians, like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. 'War and Peace' is amazing." "You've read 'War and Peace'?" "Yeah, twice. It's excellent." I cocked my head. "How about you, what do you like to read?"

To her. Aurora is stretched out on the blanket a few feet away, one knee bent, hair lifting and falling against her cheek whenever the wind decides to toy with her. She is reading on her Kindle, thumb moving in small, distracted motions as she scrolls. I still cannot get used to that thing. Reading, to me, means weight in your hands, paper that remembers every person who touched it before you, corners worn down by time. Aurora likes that too, I know she does. But she loves stories more than formats, and convenience wins when she wants to disappear into a book for a while.