Romance Books For 11 Year Olds Novels & Stories

"I love the color of honey, that amber color has always been a favorite to me, along with the color pink, even though they don't really go well together. I turned eighteen back in January. But it wasn't a big deal for my pack. Sixteen should have been but because I shifted when I was fourteen and that being unexpected, we didn't really do the big shift celebration for me. Anyway, I honestly love all different kinds of books. Murder mystery, or fiction, classics, and then some." "Then some huh, like what Dahlia? Do you read romance novels?" "Why, do you?" I couldn't help but chuckle as I shook my head. I knew with that answer she did, she's probably read quite a few of them but what I was tru

"What are you reading?" "Oh, this?" She flashed the cover of her book, revealing a familiar-looking mischievous smile. The cover featured a couple lost in a passionate kiss. "I like to read romance," she said with a shrug, entirely unembarrassed. "What about you, Shana? Got any guilty pleasures in the book department?" I chuckled, feeling a shared sense of amusement. "Well, I've been more of a fantasy and adventure kind of reader." "Ah, the escapism types," she said, leaning back with a knowing smile. "Can't blame you. Real life gets too real sometimes."

Help me! My untamed heart was in rapid beats, creating music at pounding speed. Shaky breaths caught up in my throat when the wolf nosed at my lower region and made an almost purring sound. I nearly fainted. Would it be ridiculous to say this wolf was a pervert! Or could it be that it just wanted to split me in two right there, so it could munch me down so easily? No!

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

I sit on the edge of the bed and pull the blanket up to her chin. “Story,” she demands softly, eyes already drooping. I smile. “You don’t ask. You order.” She grins, entirely unashamed. I reach for the book she picked earlier, a soft-covered children’s romance about a brave princess and a gentle knight who travel across kingdoms to find each other again. I hadn’t thought much of it when she chose it. Now I wonder if children instinctively gravitate toward truths adults try to avoid. I begin reading, my voice calm, warm, steady.

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.

I say. He pulls a handful of grass and starts rubbing it on his palm; I mimic his gesture, and we both slowly turn our palms green. "What books do you like to read, Anna? Romance novels with damsels in distress?" he jokes, making me laugh. “Yes, I like romance novels too. But I never had many of those on my shelf," I confess, a bit bitterly. "I could only read what I found around." "Do you have a favorite one?" Ryan asks enthusiastically, and I think for a moment about which book is my favorite.

“No, I don’t. I don’t mix well with horror of any kind— movies, books, or games— because I’m a scaredy cat. I can’t even stand scary campfire stories.” “Then what do you read?” “Well…” He started, averting his gaze from mine, and his face turned redder. “I’m more of a romantic story kind of guy.” Why wasn’t I surprised? He was so adorable and soft-looking that he kind of pegged me as the kind of guy who wore his heart on his sleeves. “I’m a sucker for romance too!” I chipped, and his head jerked back at me. “Really?” Liam’s voice was soft and his face glowed at my words. “What’s your favourite book?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Men think wiggling their eyebrows at us or doing what you were doing is sexy, but really, it isn’t, especially when you’re dressed like that.” I shrug and slump on the bed next to her. “I just thought it was romantic, you know?” She leans over to the side of the bed and pulls out a romance book from under the pillow. “Use this. It’s the best manual for what girls really like.” I take the book and study the cover. A man is kissing the neck of a woman whose blouse is slightly off her shoulder. “Blah,” I say and toss the book to the side. I actually think I’ve read it before.

— I'm sure,– I say, my heart sinking in sadness, but I don't want to think about that possibility. A few minutes passed without either of us saying anything. Maybe Luke sensed how sad I was about this topic. — And what is the book about? – he asks again. — It's a romance between two teenagers. Overcoming life, depression. — I'm not a big fan of novels, but I make a point of reading yours. His arms are crossed on the table, his attention fully focused on me. I see my own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, and I realize I can't take my eyes off him. But then that hand grabs her arm and severs all connection between the two of us.