Romance Books Like Colleen Hoover Novels & Stories

The sight of it brought back a flood of memories, bittersweet and poignant. “You are a lover of dark romance?” I asked, narrowing my eyes in shock. The question hung in the air, almost surreal. Cole looked at me and then at the cover of the book. “Yes, I am. I’m actually a lover of dark romance and I really like this book. I have read it before, but then I just skim through some pages when I’m bored or better still when I want to reconnect back with the characters,” Cole said, his voice filled with a quiet passion. Gosh, he was using the exact words I would have used if I was the one asked the question.

25 March 1820 Rome, Italy Jacob was lounging on a chair and Mrs. Valentina Lombardi, the most sought after courtesan in Rome was sprawled on his lap, her lush body pressed to his as she tried to coax a reaction out of him. He knew all the other men watching him envied him. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the act. Instead of finding her perfume enticing, he found it cloying. The smoke from the cigars made him feel suffocated.

” He asked but she kept quiet ” What’s the genre of the novel you’re reading?? ” He asked ” Michael don’t you think you should continue reading?? ” Lisa asked and faced him Michael smiled with the way her small lips parted while talking and suddenly got mad when he remember Rowan actually kissed her ,,,,what the hell?? ” Michael?? ” Lisa called making him come back to reality ” What’s the genre ” He asked ” I just said it’s romance,,but you were lost in thought, what are you thinking?? ” she asked

He pushed open the locker room door, “Hated you for so long, Riley. Now I can’t stop thinking about how good your ass feels around my cock.” The words sent heat straight to my dick. We stepped into the shower area, Jax twisted the knob, and hot water sprayed down from multiple heads. Steam rose fast in the enclosed space. I stepped under the spray first, groaning as the heat hit my sore muscles. “Hate’s just foreplay with us, huh? All that shoving on the ice was basically flirting.”

Noelle’s POV My name is Noelle Harper, a twenty-seven year old, freshly out of a relationship, and currently the only resident of the sprawling Aspen lodge my friends rented for Christmas week. Everyone else bailed last minute with one reason or the other…flu, breakups, “family emergencies”. So it’s just me, ten bedrooms, a ridiculous amount of champagne, and a Christmas tree that cost more than my rent. I was three glasses deep, curled up on the leather sectional in nothing but an oversized red cashmere sweater and thigh-high socks, when the group chat lit up.

I glance at the cover of the book she slid across the counter: a Catherine Bybee novel. “Oh, wow, Mathilda. You’re a fan of Catherine Bybee?” I smile, genuinely impressed as I open the ledger. “It’s refreshing to see a teenager with such classic taste. Most girls your age are glued to their phones, but here you are, diving into a good romance.”

And for a minute, I just sit there, glaring at the ceiling like it owes me rent. Then, I glance to my right. And there it is. The only good thing about today. Devil’s Muse. A thick, absolutely sinful romance novel I pulled from the stack of books Janet got from the hospital library. The kind that has zero shame and maximum plot twists. The kind that doesn’t ask me to heal or forgive myself or do the inner work. No. This book asks me to shut up and watch the enemies-to-lovers pair absolutely ruin each other emotionally and then physically—with very vivid, very illegal levels of detail.

"Not recently, but yeah. A friend of mind passed some around last year. I've been reading her cast-offs." Which friend? And what kind of romance books? "I read a few." He shook his head. Lumen wrinkled her nose. "You have?" "Yeah, people sent all kinds of things in care packages. There were always a few romance books in the bins for us to pick through. I figured you always see women sitting by pools, relaxing and reading one. Maybe that's what I need?" "You seriously read one?" she asked. "I read...a dozen? They gave me too much anxiety. Too much will-they-won't-they, back-and-forth business. Too personal, too high stakes, too real for me to actually relax and read."

Wake up to yourself. Kerrien didn’t know what to say. She stared at him. Perhaps he was telling the truth. He was, after all, a self-confessed womanizer. What he said about her was true. She did have romantic ideas of love and marriage but she also knew rather too much of the difficulties when marriages go wrong. She couldn’t remember her own father but she had memories of long evenings of heart-ache her mother had suffered, trying to bring up a child on her own. She worked at anything she could, to make sure that Kerrien had everything she wanted. She had often been lonely, but never complained. When her health began to fail, Kerrien had become aware of an entirely different sort of sufferi

I turn around and take a look at those. "They don't feel the same anymore", I tell him. He immediately frowns in confusion. "So, you got bored with ROMANCE?" "No. But there's a reason", I say, leaning against the shelf and placing my palm over the books. Then I slowly trace my hand over them. "And the reason is—" he leans back too, a foot of distance between us but we can clearly hear each other whispering. "People who read romance, mostly women—" I giggle. "They want to escape reality. So, they can find more beautiful things in fiction"