Most Romantic Novel Ever Novels & Stories

Was it from a novel Paige had read before? "What? Do you also think I'm right?" Chris asked with a smile. Paige refuted, "You should read fewer messy novels." Who would have thought that someone like Chris, a CEO, actually liked reading all sorts of romance novels? Did he ever imagine himself in those novels, fantasizing about being the male lead? Chris said, "I don't read any messy novels. I read the painstaking works of the authors." Paige was at a loss for words. Did she also not read the authors' painstaking works? Such double standards.

maybe I’d underestimated it. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky inky black, but I hardly noticed. Alessandro was somewhere nearby, probably keeping himself busy, but I was too wrapped up in the pages of this romance novel to care. This one was about some girl—Callie, who’d gotten herself mixed up with this guy, Damian, all brooding and mysterious, the type with a past that could crush him if he let it. But he was in love with her, of course. Only he didn’t say it. Not outright. No, Damian was the kind of guy who spoke in actions, not words.

“Perhaps I’ll do that. What do you do for fun? And you can’t say study, as that doesn’t count.” I sigh, glancing out of the window. “I love to read.” He smiles. “What’s your favorite novel of all time?” I scrunch my brow, struggling to pick. “That’s a tough question. I love Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.” I see him roll his eyes at that. “But I enjoy all genres, not just romance.” I shrug. “What is it you enjoy?” I ask, interested in learning about the enigma of a man.

“It's okay, I also just walked straight, didn't look to the right or left.” “It's Jane Eyre.” Diana couldn't help herself when she saw the cover of one of the books on the front in her arms. “I also have one at home.” “Oh yeah?” the woman glanced at her book and smiled shyly. “I was on vacation in Bandung and purposely bought a lot of books as a friend of my boredom. From the synopsis at the back of the book, it seems like an interesting book.” “It is very interesting. This is a romance book from old English literary writings, first published in 1847 and the love story still survives today.” Diana rolled her eyes. “When Charlotte Brontte published it that year, it generated a lot of controve

For a moment, I am speechless. I don’t know how to respond to such words. It seems taken out of a romantic novel, one of those where the couple lives happily ever after, where there are no barbarians who hurt or a Lucian who tries to abuse your sister, where parents don’t offer you as a sacrifice to pay their debts. One of those novels with endings apotheosically full of love. “It’s a bit of a corny phrase.” I play hard to get, even though I feel like my heart has turned to butter: melted by this stranger. I smile at how he makes me feel.

I'm a sucker for romance novels but having a boyfriend in real life doesn't suit me at all. Romance novels are enough flirting and kissing for me. My all-time favorite romance book is The Kissing Booth. My mother says it's 'below my intelligence.' What can I say? I'm a sucker for kissing and handholding. Today is the last nice day of summer. I'm looking forward to eraser shavings covering my hands and the endless homework assignments that keep me busy when I come home to an empty house. Everything in that house is empty at night. I like living in the shadows.

There's still long hours till morning. Checking the book in his hand, he discovered it to be a novel. 'The Red and the Black' by Stendhal. After checking the description of the book, he believed it wouldn't be bad to give it a try although he is not fond of reading novels. Leo prefer reading normal books, it doesn't matter which type it is as long as there are not romance books. Most of the romance books he read in the past are rather cliche, untrue and misleading because such love in books doesn't exist in this modern day society.

He said whether sinister smile and I feel my cheeks become a tomato red like I’m giving a competition to a rose flower. We didn’t speak as he is enjoying my coffee and he offered sometimes to take a few sips but I denied. After few minutes of comfortable silence he again said. “Why you always read these kind of books and that too romantic novel….GOD, I hate romantic novels they are too clingy to read.” he made a disgusting face by looking at my rated novel. I smile looking at him making different faces and replied.

The first novel I read was by Louisa May Alcott; Little Woman, and then moved on to other feminist novels such as Handmaid's Tale and Pride and Prejudice—the book I'm holding right now. Well, I shouldn't be going around the library looking for a novel I like because what I'm supposed to be doing is taking care of a crazy bastard named Rhysand del Millero, who's on the phone. But I don't want to do that. I'd rather buy time with the books in front of me until the helicopter he's waiting for comes over to the bullshit he started. Damn, I hate this situation. I hate being stuck with a domineering, powerful man who loves to be heard more than to hear, and hates that I can't do anything.

Dante said. Elian looked at him. "Possibly," he said. "Or because the direct approach to love in fiction is almost always the wrong one." He paused. "The best love in novels is in the corners. In the incidental things. Not the declarations — the coffee handed over without being asked." "The coffee handed over without being asked," Dante said. "You've noticed I do that," Elian said. "I noticed it the first morning," Dante said. "In the Budapest safehouse. You guessed correctly."