Most Romantic Novel Ever Novels & Stories

Of course, I also have other books. For some reason, 'Endless Poison Love' is my favorite romance novel because I can feel the Author's feelings being poured into it. Sure, the plot, characters, scenes, words, and lessons are good, but it's the Author's way of writing that has got me hooked. She's a genius.

“That rather gives the plot away, no?” I laughed. “Romance novels aren’t known for being subtle.” He plucked the book from my fingers before I could react. He held it over my head as he flipped through it. “Where are the love scenes? Ah, found one.” He raised one golden eyebrow as he began to read aloud: “‘A fire lit in her belly. Damian’s hands were magic. Everywhere he touched, it was like fire across her skin.’” “Oh my God, stop—” He just held the book up higher. Tall people were the worst.

I ask him “Oui bien sûr l’amour” [Yes of course Love] He lets go of me and I run towards the bathroom I almost fall flat on my face getting out of bed with my foot getting stuck in the comforter yet that is not the most embarrassing I have done in front of him. This man is my husband and I loved how he loved speaking French as much as I did. I would be lying if I said everything did not sound more romantic in French, which is why I studied French because it is the most romantic language in the world, I practically live on romcoms and romance novels and the occasional crime series... But I am a hopeless romantic, I love when everything works out for the characters and yes, I am the type that

So I’d brought actual recreational reading – the kind with swoony romance and emotional devastation instead of clinical diagrams. “Listen to this,” I said, looking up from my book. “He took her hands in his, his voice barely above a whisper: ‘I have loved you since the moment you stumbled into my library, covered in rain and righteous indignation. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?’” “That’s terrible,” Alonzo said without looking up from his laptop. “It’s romantic!” “It’s predictable.” “Predictable can be comforting. Not everything needs to reinvent the wheel.”

"Pride and Prejudice. Jane Eyre. The Great Gatsby." I turned to him, tears instantly filling my eyes. "You cut up first editions?" "I had duplicates," he shrugged, though his eyes were gentle. "I wanted her to sleep under the stories you love. I wanted her to dream in words." I choked out a sob. It was the most romantic, destructive, incredibly Alexander thing he had ever done. "It's beautiful," I whispered. "It's perfect." He let out a breath he’d been holding. He walked over to the rocking chair in the corner—a massive, plush velvet chair that was clearly sized for him, not me.

Which meant whis body probably wasn’t someone important, but then suddenly, a wave of unfamiliar memories crashed into my mind. Names. Faces. Fragments of scenes. My eyes widened, “…You’ve got to be kidding me.” I knew this story, it was a ridiculously popular romance novel, the kind filled with dramatic love triangles and overly perfect characters. The title was painfully cliché. “The CEO and His Beloved Clara.” Of course. Just hearing the name made me sigh, the heroine of the story was Clara Bennett. Bright pink hair, shimmering red eyes, the kind of cheerful, innocent girl who could melt anyone’s heart within seconds.

Penelope asked and the woman bobbed her head again. “It started a long time ago when your great-great-grandfather was in love with a werewolf girl, Liam. They were not mates, but lovers. It was a time when werewolves and Lycans lived together in peace. Their love bloomed so greatly that everybody was jealous of how beautiful their love was and they all took them as their role models. They wanted to get married and live happily together but everything changed when the werewolf girl found her mate, as destined by the Moon Goddess."

The smell of new books has kept enticing a chunk of the population, albeit a smaller percentage, and mostly, people who buy from us are collectors, those who are too rich to spend money on things of the past–and that's what we offer: old, tanning books with worn out spines; a remnant of the past, a time when HarmonyMatch was never a thing. I man the register for a couple of old folks who got a stack of magazines. I smiled as they walked out the store, his hands on her shoulder, both smiling as they talked about their purchase. I thought about how they were Matched, whether they knew each other before the ceremony, if they were childhood sweethearts, or if they were familiar faces you see on

25 March 1820 Rome, Italy Jacob was lounging on a chair and Mrs. Valentina Lombardi, the most sought after courtesan in Rome was sprawled on his lap, her lush body pressed to his as she tried to coax a reaction out of him. He knew all the other men watching him envied him. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the act. Instead of finding her perfume enticing, he found it cloying. The smoke from the cigars made him feel suffocated.

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.