Romance Novels Contemporary の小説・ストーリー

Her supple skin. "Sir ,sir are you listening to me?"Nina asked interrupting my thoughts which made me realize she was leaning towards me and giving me a full view of her cleavages .She had a seductive smirk on her lips.This girl never gives up ,like hell it was all over the news that I got married yesterday. "What is it Nina"I asked removing my gaze from her cleavages "I just want to say happy married life sir and I also brought myself as a gift to you also"She said with her voice slow and touched my hand tenderly licking her lips.

Francesca knew this was a no-brainer, of the two men, one was a fifty-one-year-old widow and the other a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. "Ah, Asher Evans it is then, I'll set a date for your first meet with him," Francesca declared when Joan picks the twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. Although Francesca thought it was quite unfortunate that her niece should go on a date with the wicked rascal, she had to concede, desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't understand, why would I go on a date with him?" "I told you it's an old tradition, it's an alliance between families, a marriage of opportunity, but who knows, it might spark some romance you desperately need in your life," Francesca state

“Something’s up. Do you care to tell me?” “No. I’m sorry about that, and let’s not talk about this anymore.” “You should have kept it to yourself. Now, I’m getting curious. I didn’t know you’re dating.” Why was he so interested in this? “I am not dating anyone, Mr. Cavendish. I didn’t know you could be so nosy about such trivial things.” “I can’t help it.” He grinned. “If you’re not dating, why are you talking about romance and seduction?”

Andra nodded, a dreamy haze in her eyes. “I said this would happen,” Molly teased. “Did I not?” “You did.” Andra leaned back against a studio pillow, sighing. “I just wish it happened like a normal love story. Dating, proposal, wedding night, then... you know.” “Normal’s overrated,” Molly said. “Andra, you’re married. And you experienced all those phases with him” “It wasn’t real,” Andra murmured. “But it is now,” Molly countered. “And it’s beautiful.”

And the present and future have everything and nothing to do with what could’ve happened in the past and what will happen. Hello, lovelies... If you're a new reader, you can check out my other books on Dreamè Àpp, my books are all completed and búlly, dark romance on there!! Saved By The Devil. Indebted To A Tyrant King. And new one: Lord of Violence (MMMF). A. Gupta

“You need to go, Scarlett. Now.” She nodded, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and a thrilling, defiant heat. She turned and fled. It did nothing to quell the storm he had unleashed inside her. The memory of the kiss, the possessive grip of his hands, the wrecked sound of his voice, it was too much to process, yet a hunger had been awakened that demanded more. The following week, there was a seminar on power asymmetries in the modern novel felt like a special kind of torture. The subject matter which once would have been a purely intellectual exercise, now felt like a personal, pointed critique.

But Noah’s title stopped me cold. Dirty Desire. A nervous laugh escaped my mouth. Surely, I was imagining things, I had to be imagining things. Surely, this wasn’t what I thought it was. But when I opened the first page, my breath hitched. I couldn't believe my eyes. Noah hadn’t written a romance. He’d written a fantasy. His fantasy, a well detailed one at that. The words became more and more serious with each line: “She’s older, irresistible. Her voluptuous boobs pressed against my mouth”, “her wet pussy clenching tightly around me”, “her big fat ass bouncing against my hips.”

And not just any romance—dark romance, enemies-to-lovers, mafia romance, arranged marriage, all the subgenres I devoured in private. "This is our most popular section," Edward said, noticing my reaction. "Romance readers are loyal. And they buy a lot of books." "I can see that." Next to it was fantasy. Then a section labeled "Romantasy" that made my heart skip. Sarah J. Maas. Jennifer L. Armentrout. Rebecca Yarros. All my favorites, beautifully displayed. "You read?" Edward asked. "Yeah. A lot, actually." "What genres?" "These, mostly." I gestured to the romance and fantasy sections. "Dark romance. Romantasy. Anything with morally gray characters and impossible love stories."

“It sounds… like it should be yours, only yours. ‘Mon amour.’ My love.” I blushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You know I don’t speak French.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then I will teach you… one kiss at a time.” I laughed, a trembling, delicate sound. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so close I could feel the strength of his desire, the depth of his longing that he had never released. His fingers drifted over my skin, tracing patterns I had never known I knew. Every caress was a poem. Every caress was a confession.

Even so, the whole process feels like a battle, and I am already exhausted by the time I have the books in my hands. I still read romantic novels. There is something comforting about them, even if some of the stories hit a little too close to home. Some of the plots are eerily similar to my own life, while others are pure escapism—beautiful, heartwarming tales from start to finish. Sure, the characters face hardships and tribulations, but what always stands out to me is the love and trust between the couples. It is the kind of love that feels unshakable, the kind I used to dream about. Now, I am not so sure if that kind of love exists for me anymore.