Raunchy Historical Romance Novels & Stories

He was being ostentatious and unreserved. As the male protagonist of the novel, Cedric Garner's first 20 or so years of his life had been smooth sailing. Being superior and almost good at anything fostered his arrogant and unrestrained personality. Hannah still remembered the first time she saw him. It seemed like the whole world was focused on him, and he was arrogantly domineering, like a king in control of everything. Although it seemed quite amusing, it was quite in line with the image of the male leads in romance novels. However, it was not the case currently. Cedric was gloomy.

I say, frowning a little. “01 Kind men are ugly. 02 Handsome men are not nice. 03 Handsome and kind men are married. 04 The handsome, kind, and single are poor. 05 Handsome, kind, single, and rich people are not interested in you. 06 The handsome, kind, single, rich, and interested people are interested in you only because of the hookup. 07 Those who are handsome, kind, single, rich, interested in you, and faithful, are homosexuals. 08 The handsome, kind, single, rich, interested in you, faithful, who do not lose interest if you are the ones who make the first step. Those men must have a problem!

The Nouveau-Riche Romance Chapter twenty-nine The brightness of the day filtered into the room. Illuminating it with its soft glow. The illumination was just enough to rouse Joan from sleep. Her body felt relaxed, she felt mellow really. It felt like she was coming down from a drug high. No, it was a sex high. Sex? Sex... Joan abruptly opens her eyes as she remembered the events of the previous night. She had sex with Asher. Now that she thought about it it was a crazy night and she wouldn't believe it if she hadn't experienced it.

Lucian groaned, a dark, heavy sound that vibrated deep in his chest, "are going completely to my head." "I just secured our wedding venue," Zara whispered fiercely, her manicured hands sliding up the lapels of his dark overcoat to grip the heavy, corded muscles of his neck. He crashed his mouth down onto hers in a punishing, desperate collision of pure, territorial heat. The psychological slaughter of the high society historian was a blinding, physical drug. Zara gasped, her back arching beautifully against the stone as she met his possessive dominance perfectly. Her tongue tangled with his, tasting the dark coffee and the undeniable, absolute victory in his kiss.

“You’re impossible. Fine, at least tell me if this author is any good.” “They’re the best.” “Good-looking?” I prodded, mostly to amuse myself. She gasped, swatting my arm with mock outrage. “Ew! You can’t ask that! That’s creepy.” I smirked. “What? I’m just curious.” “You don’t get to be curious about this,” she said firmly. “Especially not with your… history.” My brow arched. “My history?” “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re Roman Alkali. Your ‘colorful history with women’ is practically public record. Half the internet calls you a walking heartbreak in a three-piece suit.”

I exclaimed taking the books out of the bag and stacking them in a pile on the bench. "That day in the car." He began as I checked out the historical romance books, "You talked about how much you love old books, especially historical romance, so I figured I pick some up for you." "Thank you." I moved from where I was seated and jumped on his lap, my legs hanging on either side of him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in the crook of his neck while muffling appreciations, "You deserve another secret for this." I giggled pushing my fingers in his hair, "I almost snapped and angry cried when Terren grabbed me today, it hurt so much that he wanted to harm me but I knew I had

"This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself." Nanny laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, Isa. You’re making it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world. Just imagine it—a forbidden workplace romance, secret glances, and the tension! Oh, how thrilling! The babysitter and the boss. You’ve already got the perfect setup." I glare at her. "Nanny, stop. He’s my boss, and he has a child. A cute child, by the way, who is clearly going through something. I’m not about to entertain any fantasies about him."

“What do you want me to say, Aela?” “That Finn is Aidan Sr.’s by-blow?” “By-blow?” Inessa repeated, her brow puckering. “His illegitimate child,” Aoife answered. “I need to get you hooked on historical romance next.” Despite myself, interest hit me. “You like romance books?” “Yes. We do,” was Inessa’s retort, but I sensed her bristling ahead of schedule. I raised my hands in surrender, because even though I wanted answers, I wasn’t a total bitch. Even if romance books hadn’t been my jam, I’d never give them crap about that. Someone’s taste was their taste, and I celebrated that.

“Ah, you went to look for her?” “Yes. I had also done this kind of thing before.” At the other end of the line, Sophia ridiculed herself. “I was just like the Rene of today. I wanted to have a look, to see what kind of woman that could make him unable to let go. Is she better than me? Is she more captivating than me? When I went there, then only did I find out that she is his first love. Arya, there are so many interesting things in this world. The woman is two years older than Max and is his first love. He is two years older than me and is my first love.”

“It sounds… like it should be yours, only yours. ‘Mon amour.’ My love.” I blushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You know I don’t speak French.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then I will teach you… one kiss at a time.” I laughed, a trembling, delicate sound. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so close I could feel the strength of his desire, the depth of his longing that he had never released. His fingers drifted over my skin, tracing patterns I had never known I knew. Every caress was a poem. Every caress was a confession.