Native American Romance Novels & Stories

Her voice cracked, her eyes clouding over with a hint of sadness. "Not all Natives are the same, My clan would have loved you!" he said as he kissed her sweet lips, lifting her up and carrying her back to the sofa. Brent's eyes filled with understanding and empathy. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "You're always welcome here, Naki. You're home, My Home will always be your home too. and I'd be happy to share with you about our culture." he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and love. His whisper was a promise, a vow to always be there for her. She noticed his large round drum sitting on a low stand so it didn't touch the floor. "Do you drum?" she asked as she had a mil

“Thank you, pup.” He looked seriously at me. “Don’t make her cry.” A laugh went around the people closest to us. “I’ll try.” Violet looked at me. “Try?” “I’m already under pressure.” Ryker seemed satisfied and went to stand beside Father. I turned back to Violet and rubbed my thumb over her fingers, feeling nervous. Her skin was cooler than mine. The Shaman called us forward. We stood beneath the open roof where moonlight covered the altar. He spoke about the Moon Goddess, about mate bonds and about the responsibility of marriage within a pack. He reminded us that a mate bond might be given by fate, but a marriage had to be chosen willingly.

It was an ancient Arapaho tradition, passed down through Jeremy's great-grandfather, who had fostered a deep respect for the Arapaho people and their unique approach to breaking in horses without breaking their spirits. With each nudge of the reins and every shift of their weight, Alexandra felt a profound connection with the horse beneath her. The rhythm of their movements echoed the heartbeat of the land, and she understood the significance of this bond between human and animal. It was a testament to the enduring relationship between Jeremy's family and the Arapaho, a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding.

Running his fingers over the wet lace at the apex of her legs. Janiya wiggles underneath Zane, giving a glimpse of what’s to come—using one hand to push the fabric aside and the other to explore and feel her moist, smooth center. Her entire body is blazing with fire as Hane touches and caresses her most intimate area. They were from two separate worlds, yet when they came together in bed, it never mattered that he was Chinese and famous, and she was an intelligent, kind-hearted, and normal African American woman. Wrapping a hand around his maleness, she stroked him expertly until he was thick and stiff. Mutual love, pleasure, and passion were their only concern. Looking up at him, no man had

I lifted my hands to his chest, pressed against the warmth of him, and whispered, “I love you, Ethan. I’ve always—” He quieted me with his lips. A slow, sensual kiss that was full of morning, full of sunlight, full of home. The way he kissed me now wasn’t rushed or needy. It was almost...sacred. The kind of kiss that seeps into your very soul and stays there. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing against him as if I could never get close enough. “I’ve been dreaming of this,” he whispered between kisses. “Of you in my arms like this. No walls. No fear. Just us.”

Damon thought he’d be the one to not leave here alive but he would be. I placed my hand over his pushing reassurance and love through our bond. He smiled at me before giving me a quick kiss. The cars ahead of us started moving. We followed them all of us going slowly. One by one we passed small brightly colored huts and tepees as people watched us move through their village. They were dressed like native Americans in buckskin breechclouts and dresses. Each had their hair long, braided that hung down their backs. Some had different types of feathers in their hair and some had buck skin and bones woven into their braids. My jaw dropped. This place was absolutely beautiful.

She has a strange idea of what is romantic and what is not. I want to roll my eyes at her words, but there's no point if she won't see that. "How can you call a savage's behaviour romantic?" I cross my arms in front of my chest. It seems the more I try to explain to her what a real romance is, the more she tries to resist. "Don't you understand? Our men behave like that only when they have feelings for someone. And with Alpha wolves, it's a little different."

“For now. I need you to do some research. I want you to understand some terms. Like dream walker and spirit walker. I want you to understand the difference.” “Anything else,” asked Ava. Sounding more willing than she did before. “Yes,” stated Willow simply. “I want you to read up some Native American legends. If you have questions, I don’t want you to be afraid to ask.” Then the ghostly image of an elder Native woman was gone. Leaving Ava Miller alone in her room, once more. “I really hope that I’m not losing it,” whispered the twenty-year-old woman.

"How was it? Is it correct that your blind-date partner is not up to your taste?" She nodded. "Is there anyone that you unexpectedly encountered who made your heart jump excitedly?" She nodded again. How could it jump excitedly? It nearly jumped to death! "Wow! Just as I had said, it is so accurate. Then, it was also raining. Are there any more romantic happenings?" Arya turned her head around and with her long hair still dripping water, she quietly said. "Sophie, ah...... This chance encounter if it is good, it is called romance but if it is bad, it is called a nightmare."

It hit the internet like wildfire. By dawn, the entire city was buzzing about the headline: "Billionaire Damien Cole in FAKE Romance? Leaked Contract Exposes Staged Relationship." Serena sat frozen in front of her laptop as the article was splashed across every major gossip site. The article came with a photocopy of the original contract, complete with her signature and Damien's. Bullet points were highlighted in red. "Duration: Three months minimum." "Public appearances required." "Emotional intimacy not guaranteed."