Read Me Romance Podcast Novels & Stories

Then I look up at this man who has folded himself into the fabric of everything without making it about himself, who texted Dom Pearce a quote at midnight and let me sleep. "I love you, Rhys." "I know," he says. "Eat something. Today is going to be long." He makes eggs. The real kind, not the burnt kind, with the bread from Henderson's that I bought yesterday because I knew today was coming and I wanted something good in the house. We eat at the counter and the numbers climb on the phone screen between us and by the time the plates are cleared, the podcast has been shared across four countries and Sylvia Trent has published a piece in Brand Intelligence Quarterly with the headline that reads

“Everything is perfect. I simply prefer consistency. And I enjoy our conversations. Do you mind if you stay a little longer today? I would like the company while you work.” I hesitated for only a second. “I can stay for a while. As long as I finish my other rooms on time.” He smiled and gestured toward the seating area. “Take your time. Talk to me while you work. Tell me what you are reading for your literature classes right now.” I started with the bed, pulling the sheets tight while answering. “We are studying gothic romance this week. Stories full of secrets and dangerous attractions. The kind where the heroine knows she should stay away but cannot.”

she cocked her brow, her tone matter of fact. “Obviously not, but there has to be a middle ground between bed rest and insanity.” “There isn’t. That’s why bed rest sucks.” She settled into the chair beside the bed. “Want me to read to you? I found this absolutely terrible supernatural romance where the werewolf heroine falls for a vampire—” “That sounds awful.” “It’s amazingly awful. That’s the point.” She opened the book, clearing her throat dramatically. “Chapter One: The night I met Aire was the night everything changed…”

His hand froze in the air as he paused in the middle of bringing the sandwich to his mouth. It was only then that I realized what I’d just said. Even Rina was staring at me oddly, no longer texting on her phone. For Rina to abandon texting her long-distance boyfriend, just know it had to be something huge. “I mean… I like his way of teaching. That’s it,” I rushed to correct. “Professor Gomez is also good,” Noah said. “Maybe. But I prefer Professor Frost.” He looked confused. “You’ve only known him for a week.”

Shoot! "Love is indeed in the air." Maribella remarked before waving my book in front of the camera. "So, if you people haven't read this, if you haven't been in love, or if you just wanted to enjoy a good romance book then buy Rebecca's My high School Love Affair and it will make you fall in love with life." I shyly smiled and nodded my head. "Anyway…" Maribella's gaze went back to us and she was wearing this stare like when a journalist's curiosity was piqued. "Sir Ibarra, you did mention earlier that you are going to be a part of Rebecca's future, yes?"

“You always read something serious.” “Fine,” I admitted. “Romance.” He raised an eyebrow. “Figures.” “Oh please,” I said. “You love romance.” “I love watching you react to it,” he replied. I kicked his foot lightly under the table. “Behave.” He leaned in. “No promises.” After coffee, we wandered through the bookstore. He picked up random titles, reading the back dramatically. “‘A tragic tale of lost love,’” he read aloud. “Absolutely not.” “Why?”

It was a kiss unlike any other in the ten years I had known him, fueled by both lust and a need to punish. When he finally released me, we were both panting. "You love me," Francis said, locking eyes with me, each word deliberate as if willing it to be true. "You'll keep loving me. The drugs are irrelevant." I could not help but laugh. "Francis, who are you kidding?" Francis acted like he did not hear me. He just stood up and smoothed out his suit. "You're getting out tomorrow. Come stay at my place." "That's not my home," I said.

His warm hands on my face and his closeness set my body ablaze with my feelings for him, coupled with the soft words he was uttering. “Sandy,” he said softly and rubbed my cheekbones with his thumb. “I… After understanding what my heart is feeling… Sandy… I…” My heart hammered faster every second. Blood rushed through my body at a speed that my head started to get light. I was anxious to hear what he had to say. A part of me dreaded separation and the other part of me remained positive. “I know I’m the worst at romance, but this is me pouring my heart out.” He gulped. “Sandy… I… I love you.”

“Thank you.” Poppy raised a third finger. “Rule number three. If you’re fighting because of romance, stay away from breakfast.” I froze. “Who taught you the word romance?” Sebastian asked, staring at Poppy with a flat expression. Poppy chewed her croissant. “Auntie Rhea.” I looked at the ceiling. “Of course.” Poppy pointed at the picture on the phone, which was now lying on the counter. “That’s romance fighting.” “No,” I said.

"So do you. It's a shame it's all pretense." His smile was shallow, never reaching his eyes. "Not all of it," he replied. As the city lights shimmered around them, Serena pondered just how real this façade of romance might become. But as their car drew into the main road, Serena's phone suddenly buzzed. She glanced at the screen and froze. From an Unknown Number: "You have no idea who you're dealing with, Serena. Back off-while you still can." Her breath hitched. Damien noticed the change in her expression.