Romance Excerpt Novels & Stories

It was a night of pure ecstasy, where the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of us immersed in a sea of pleasure. In the aftermath, as we lay entangled in each other's embrace, I couldn't help but smile. This was just the beginning of our passionate love story, a journey that would be filled with countless more intense and romantic moments. As the sun began to set, casting a soft golden glow through the curtains, we lay there, basking in the afterglow of our passionate time. Our bodies intertwined, we exchanged lazy kisses and whispered sweet nothings. "Elliana," Max said, his voice filled with a mix of contentment and awe. "I can't believe how incredible this few minutes of our

After the meeting, Damien approached her near the elevator. "You're welcome," he said in a straightforward manner. "You got me into that room," she said, trying to mask her surprise. "I simply opened the door. You kept it open," he replied. There was a pause in the conversation. "You're being unusually kind for someone who kissed me in public and then disappeared," she said, a mix of hurt and curiosity shading her words. His expression remained unchanged. "We shared a contract, not a romance." Her chest tightened at his words. "Right. Of course," she said, her voice barely hiding the sting of his words.

My heart stuttered. Warmth flooded my chest so quickly it almost made me dizzy. “I missed you too,” I admitted. His eyes searched mine for a second. Then he kissed me again. This time slower, deeper. Like we had all the time in the world. Like we weren’t in public where anyone could pass by. Like nothing else existed. My hand slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His hand settled at my waist, grounding me. Everything else faded. The library. The people. The noise.

Nora brought white roses when she visited me in the hospital. She fumbled with the flowers, accidentally tipping over the vase and spilling water everywhere. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Natalie," she babbled, scrambling to clean up the mess. "I didn't mean to do that." "It's fine," I said, even though nothing really was. She sat down, nervously fiddling with the edge of her skirt. It was a fancy Chanel, a present from Francis, but I was the one who had picked it out. "Natalie, have you and Francis been at it again?"

There were racks of clothes. My father was standing by the window, talking into a phone. He looked at me and pointed to a chair. "Sit. We don't have much time." I sat. A woman with a headset walked over to me. "I'm Abby from the PR team. We need to move fast. The morning news cycle starts in six hours. We need the “Proof of Romance” package ready by then." "Proof of romance?" I asked. My voice felt dry. "Chloe is in the dressing room," Abby said, ignoring my question. "She’s ready. We’re going to do three sets of photos. One casual, one semi formal, and one official.”

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.”

"But I'm curious, what does romance mean to you?" Max leaned in closer to Chloe, his voice low and husky, as he whispered softly into her ear, "Romance is like the changing sky at dusk, with colors shifting and blending together to create something new and beautiful each time. It's like the dance of fireflies on a warm summer evening, a dazzling display that takes your breath away.” His words flowed like a gentle stream, carrying with them the promise of something sweet and special. Chloe felt her heart skip a beat, and a shiver ran down her spine like a gentle breeze on a summer day, as she turned away to hide the reddened flush on her cheeks.

“That rather gives the plot away, no?” I laughed. “Romance novels aren’t known for being subtle.” He plucked the book from my fingers before I could react. He held it over my head as he flipped through it. “Where are the love scenes? Ah, found one.” He raised one golden eyebrow as he began to read aloud: “‘A fire lit in her belly. Damian’s hands were magic. Everywhere he touched, it was like fire across her skin.’” “Oh my God, stop—” He just held the book up higher. Tall people were the worst.

His gaze held a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, a sentiment he seldom revealed. As she continued to dress his wounds, the room seemed to shrink, narrowing down to the unspoken connection between them. Raina, in your writing, delves into the complexities of their romance. The physical act of dressing wounds serves as a metaphor for the healing they find in each other amid the chaos of their lives. Let the readers feel the emotional nuances, the uncharted territory of love in the shadows.

The young woman sitting by me stopped her game and watched me rant in astonishment. When I ran out of angry words, she clapped her hands in succession, and it echoed in the silence. "Well said, Princess, but I think someone lied to you, just like they lied to some of them over there," she said, pointing to a point in the room's corner. "Over there in the blue dress is Princess Kit of the Blue Brook Pack. She was given away as an alliance gift to the Lycan King and found herself as a slave here the very next day. Following her is Princess Yvette from the distant pack region of the werecats. She was told that she was to be matched with the Lycan Prince. She has not gotten over the deceit that