Romance In London Novels & Stories

She laughed—breathless, sated. “Still green.” Outside, London kept moving—wet streets, late-night buses, the river carrying everything away. Inside, two people who had found each other again kept breathing together. No rush. No endings. Just the quiet certainty that desire—when chosen—could stretch across cities, years, and oceans. To be continued…

he asked with such politeness that Selene couldn't refuse, and her eyes lit up again. "Yes," she whispered in response. Frederick settled more comfortably in the chair and paid attention, feeling excited like a child. "Romeo and Juliet." "Eh?" "The book I have in my hands is about a tragic romance between Romeo and Juliet, by the author William Shakespeare. Do you still want me to read it?" she asked, unsure if he would accept. "I would be delighted to hear it, my Lady, please," he requested, and Selene nodded.

"I don't feel like crying. I mean, sure it's a bit surprising. But also not really. They're Matched." "Huh. But that's a good thing. That means you're over him and you can devote yourself fully to your own betrothed." I rolled my eyes but forgot she couldn't see. "Just so you know, I'm rolling my eyes." She laughed. "Anyway, how'd you know?" "You mean they didn't send you an invitation?" "I don't know, is it a physical invitation? Because that gets sent over to the capital and I'm currently not in Valeria."

Now, it just made her angry with the constraints of her life, her circumstance. Lily crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to hold herself together. “If it ends tragically, it’s not a romance. It’s a love story, and a poor excuse for one at that.” She glanced toward the ocean again. The blue of the water was quickly fading to johnson as night approached. “When we were in the caves, you asked me if I wanted romance, and I didn’t answer.” She leaned in toward him, and he drew her into his arms, pressing her into him in a way that was both wicked and sinful but also belied a new gentleness in his touch. “The answer is yes,” she said. “I do want romance, true romance, and I don’t want us

“I haven’t even met him.” “Exactly!” she shouted. “That’s worse! Falling for someone you’ve never seen is peak disaster energy.” “I’m not falling for anyone.” “Good.” She pointed at me again. “Because emotional damage is expensive. And I know you. You fall for men with mystery, danger, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab you.” “I do not!” “You SO do.” Mira narrowed her eyes. “And this man sounds like he invented cheekbones.” I let out a breath and slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

A smug little smile even tugged at his lips. "See?" he said, taking the envelope. "I knew she'd come around eventually." He was already thinking ahead. "Get a nice piece of jewelry from the boutique. And book that French place in the west end. Tonight, I'll—" His voice died in his throat as he opened the envelope and read the first line.

It forced him to be late to join Velia in bed. Lucas walked slowly, not wanting to make any sound that could disturb her sleep. You look tired. Lucas took his place on the side of the bed. He gazed at Velia's peaceful face and stroked her hair. Tired? That one word managed to bring a faint smile to Lucas's face. He remembered the romance in his office earlier that day. How enjoyable it was. How passionate. It would surely be one of the love affairs Lucas would enjoy. And perhaps Velia felt the same way.

he says with a wink. We drink a glass or two of champagne as the train speeds out of London and towards Paris, and I stare out of the window and try to wrap my head around this. I can't remember the last time I've had a break, let alone a spontaneous one like this to the most romantic city in the world.

The city lights reflected in his eyes as he looked at her. “You still matter to me,” he said quietly. Her heart ached hearing those words. “You matter to me too.” “But we’re different,” Lincoln said. “That hasn’t changed.” “No,” she agreed. “It hasn’t.” They stood there in silence for a long moment. Then Lincoln reached out and gently touched her hand. The contact sent a familiar warmth through her chest. “You always understood me,” he said softly. Evelyn shook her head. “No.” “You loved your dreams more.”

However, I could tell: Nora was head over heels for Francis. She was dying to marry him. The big event was at Kingshore Estate. There were roses everywhere; the lawn was practically drowning in them. Nora's dress floated around her like a cloud. Francis was decked out in a tailor-made suit, flashing a smile that could knock anyone's socks off. However, his eyes were just...blank, like he was a fancy mannequin or something. The crowd was buzzing with gossip. They all knew the bride was not his first pick; they knew the guy had lost his marbles. However, they also acted like everything was peachy.