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In fact it was getting pretty obvious that I could do more than spank it to her, she was giving some pretty clear signals. As I sat up and clicked save on my latest Miss Ross driven story it occurred to me that I probably should get something going with Kim and give up on my stupid fantasies. I'd been watching and writing too much p**n lately. I minimized the screen on "Special" and stared at the next document which was my goofy vampire story for the group. As I read the uninspiring words I realized it could be a decent story if I tossed some hot sex in there. I doubted that Miss Ross would appreciate that though. I grinned as I thought that in any scenario I could envision she would not onl

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With a deep breath, I turned the first page of the romance novel, eager to immerse myself in its tender tale. The story unfolded like a delicate dance, a waltz of whispered promises and stolen glances. Each word painted a vivid picture in my mind, transporting me to a realm where love bloomed like flowers in spring. With every chapter, I found myself drawn deeper into the lives of the characters, their emotions becoming entwined with my own.

Memories of him making love to her played like a reel inside her head, which made her blush heavily and at the same time turned her on. He tilted her chin, making her eyes meet his and then planted a kiss on her lips. But the next thing she knows, he commanded her ro strip. “Strip.” She didn't liked the way he said that word. But she said nothing and grinding her teeth, she started to remove her clothes one by one. Once the dress was gone, she was going for the stockings when Carson stopped her. “Leave the stocking and heels” he murmured. He snaked his arm around her bare waist and pulled her closer. The contact of her breast touching him, made her nipples hard. Her skin was heated with his

Not the first-edition, obscure ones she collected. To his constant amusement, her guilty little pleasure was binge-reading supernatural romance stories. Real trash—about werewolves, ghosts, vampires and the like. Books that were shockingly racy and nevertheless a total waste of paper and ink. She bought them online, so that even her husband didn’t know, and disposed of them discreetly in a public trash on her way to work once she’d finished them a scant few hours later. Of course, Duke had also read them.

Alex sat down at his desk, turned on the light, and began reading. Eight hours later, he finished the final chapter. Alex was no expert on romance novels, but Rachel’s writing could convince him to become an avid fan. She was good. Damn good, he thought, but an important element seemed to be lacking. Rachel’s descriptions and dialogue were colorful and dramatic, but, in Alex’s opinion, the leading male character was a bit bland, and he lacked any real emotional depth for a romantic hero. The main female character was a strong, independent and highly sensual woman, but there was no believable chemistry between the two of them. Alex could also tell by her description of the country setting tha

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I’m damn proud of it, and I’m glad I didn’t give up after the first fail. I’ve discovered that I get into those fantasy stories where one person knows who his or her soul mate is upon meeting them, or even before that, as what happened in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas, A Kinda Fairy Tale series by Cassandra Gannon, and many of the shifter books by Eve Langlais that I have loved so much. So that’s where I came up with the Love Mark idea.

“Sophia loves reading novels—romance novels—but just like what I said, she is actually dense and almost oblivious with the men around her. It would seem that she is more fixated with the idea of what she reads rather than real men, but, of course, I can’t say that she has not had a real boyfriend ever…”

My thoughts quickly drift back to the stack of novels, and I reach for my tote bag, pulling out the first book my hand touches. Reading romance novels is not exactly good for my mental health, but I cannot seem to stop myself. They make me laugh, they make me cry, and sometimes they make me wish for something similar in my own life. But deep down, I know that is just a fantasy. I know I cannot have it, not now, maybe not ever.