Romance For Guys Novels & Stories

"I'm just saying. Don't brush off the possibility just yet." I narrow my eyes at him. "Why do you sound like you really want it to be him?" He shrugs unapologetically. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good romance." I scowl. "There is no romance between us." "Keep telling yourself that, babe," he says, patting my shoulder. "You two are a trope waiting to be written about." I shrug off his hand. "We are not. There’s no story here."

"How did you—" "Lucky guess." But his expression suggested it was anything but luck. "It's a pretty common trope in romance novels. The inexperienced writer who has to learn about love firsthand before she can write about it convincingly." "You seem to know a lot about romance novels for a..." Emma gestured vaguely at his appearance. He was wearing a casual button-down with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans, and boots that looked expensive but well-worn. Nothing about him screamed "romance reader." "For a guy?" Jake's smile turned wicked. "Trust me, I know more about romance novels than you might think. In fact, I'd bet I could help you with your problem."

Yes. He's the potential boyfriend in every woman's dream because he is boyfriend material. As for me, I'm the potential fuck buddy or one night stand and women doesn't want a man like that. Fuck. He's a strong believer in love, growing old together with the one he loves and starting a family of his own. He's Romeo. He's a bad boy but he loves love. But I'm not Romeo. I don't like sugarcoating things. I don't romanticize. I don't give flowers, chocolates, teddy bear and other shit to impress women. I impress women through sex and that's it. That's the huge difference between me and Sebastian and I hate to say it that he has an advantage than I do.

“Did you just call me beautiful?” He didn’t even blink. “Even the blind could tell. So what’s your reason?” My voice dropped slightly. “School. Life. I’ve just been busy.” He nodded. “Makes sense.” I studied him for a second. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?” He scoffed. “I don’t do girlfriends.” “Oh, I see.” “Love. Labels. All of that. It’s a distraction. Romance is for people who haven’t figured out how fake it is.”

“So, what kinda things are you in to? Action, horror, comedy?” I noticed he didn’t give me the option of romance. Was he telling me something subtly? His behaviour so far had told me that he could be romantic. Taking me out for dinner and insisting on paying was pretty romantic…wasn’t it? Maybe I was reading too much into this. Perhaps he just didn’t like romantic films. A lot of guys didn’t. I decided my adrenaline couldn’t cope with rising any higher than it already was, so action and horror were out. “Comedy?”

"Jen, have you ever considered that Luke's ideal type might be someone like that?" "Like what?" "A pampered little wife!" "Wendy, how could you come up with such a crazy idea?" Luke is a workaholic. The person he likes should be someone who can match him, someone he doesn't need to spend too much time taking care of. "Luke is so sharp-tongued, a delicate girl would end up in tears eight hundred times a day." "Men enjoy making their beloved girls cry and then consoling them afterwards. It's called romance! Do you understand?"

*** We open the store, help a couple of early customers, and within ten minutes Matteo has commandeered a stack of receipts and started sketching circles and arrows like we’re planning a heist. “Okay,” he says. “Option one: classic romance.” “Define classic.” “Candlelit dinner. Somewhere intimate. You get down on one knee. Boom. Tears.” “That’s… reasonable,” I say. He grimaces. “But expected.” “Cara likes expected,” I argue. “She likes thoughtful,” he counters. “There’s a difference.” A woman browsing the romance section coughs pointedly, clearly eavesdropping. Matteo lowers his voice anyway. “Option two: chaos.”

"You like mysteries?" "Sometimes." "Better than romance novels?" My face heated. Had he seen me looking at that shelf? Had he been watching? "Much better," I said firmly. "Romance novels are... unrealistic." Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement maybe. "Are they?" "Yes. All that instant attraction and forbidden desire and enemies becoming lovers. It doesn't work like that in real life." "Doesn't it?" The way he said it—the slight emphasis, the look in his eyes—made my stomach flip.

"How romantic. You make it sound like a business transaction." Adriano smirked, unbothered by her barb. He could read the sarcasm in her tone. He smirked. "A little correction, babygirl. I was never one for romance. Never believed in it and never pretended otherwise. It's always been about sex, sex and only sex, nothing else. I’ve fucked a dozen of women before your mother but none of them were enough to truly satisfy me or bear the intensity of what I need, what I demand.” Anny's breathing had become noticeably shallower. Her nipples were hard peaks beneath her bikini top and he knew it wasn't from the cold water.

Our bodies intertwined, our skin glistened with sweat, and our hearts filled with a profound sense of connection. Jonathan looked at me with a tender smile, his hand caressing my cheek. “My Angel, you are everything to me. I never knew that love could be so powerful, so consuming.” I smiled back, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “And you, Jonathan, are my eternal love. I never thought I could experience such passion and intimacy with anyone.”