Romance Novels With Angst Novels & Stories

Maybe I was just better off with someone like Bobby. No. I felt anger rise up, a hot fire burning in my belly. I didn't deserve that. I deserved someone who treated me like I was worth something. If Andrew couldn't see past my mistakes, then he wasn't worth my time. I didn't need him either. A tear dripped down my cheek, hot and painful. I knew I was lying to myself, feeding on anger to justify my pain. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to feel some kind of physical pain just to make my chest hurt less.

“Then I should have been like you and stayed and watched; that's not right; as soon as I saw her on top of him like a spring, although I don't know if she saw me, she looked like she was going to explode or faint, so I left immediately; we can't all be reckless.” “My Ximena, I'm left with the doubt; I don't think Angelo is one of those, and even if he was, I don't blame the poor guy; after all, you didn't give him anything, not even when you were married; we all have our needs, and besides, that nymphomaniac has a great body; she must have more operations than Baldor's algebra.” “I don't know, Liz; my head is all messed up, my heart is squashed, and my world is upside down; I'm a mess.”

"How could you think I'm dating?" "Or maybe she's thinking about a guy. A guy who's giving her mix signals. A minute he's with you and another he's not. Making you wish he was someone you could reach out to but no... he's not." Theresa summed up my whole life in a few minutes. "And you got that from your new Romance book?" I chuckled lightly, trying to wave off the tension that was brewing up. "No. Dark Romance." She winked. Dark Romance? There was no romance going on between L'Angelo and I. But Dark? That was some talk for later.

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 air crackled with unspoken tension, the promise of further conflict hanging heavy in the air. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filled the air, a tempting symphony of smells that usually brought a smile to my face. But today, my appetite was lost, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease. Angeli's face, etched with a mixture of anger and despair, haunted my thoughts. Her situation was a tragic reflection of the cruel irony of love - to crave something you could never have.

she asked lightly. “Yes.” “Romantic.” His gaze flicked up briefly. “Hold still.” He rolled her sleeve carefully. The graze ran along her upper arm, shallow but angry. “It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s not nothing.” His fingers were steady as he cleaned the wound. But his breathing wasn’t. She noticed. “You’re shaking,” she said quietly. “I’m not.” “You are.” He stopped moving. For one second. Then continued. “I don’t react well,” he said evenly, “when people I care about are shot.”

I pulled him toward me and crashed my mouth against his. It wasn't a soft kiss. It wasn't a movie kiss. It was messy, desperate, and full of all the anger and confusion we had been carrying since the day we became roommates. It tasted like salt and heat. It felt like a fight. Jax made a low sound in his throat: half a groan, half a growl and slammed me back against the tiled wall. The cold tile hit my back, but I didn't care because his body was warm, pressing against me, pinning me there. His hands moved from my arms to my waist, gripping me so hard I knew there would be marks tomorrow.

"Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough." - Pierre Augustin Caron de beaumarchais *** Raina Williams "Am I disturbing something ?" Angelo said clenching his jaw. I stepped back from Grayson. "No, actually I was just leaving but what do you want anyways?" Grayson said in a nonchalant tone making me sigh. "It's none of your God damn business just get out!" Angelo seemed pissed. "It is my business because I can see right through you..." Gray deadpanned, i wanted to laugh but this was serious and Gray was getting the wrong idea.

“Move closer.” Fear and something hotter warred inside me. I told myself I was only obeying to avoid his anger, but my body moved forward until I stood barely an arm’s length away. His heat radiated toward me. His scent — that intoxicating wild musk — made my head spin and my core clench with sudden, shameful need. “Look at me.” I lifted my gaze. His green eyes locked onto mine, dark with an intensity that stole my breath. A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips.

No rage, just this dark curiosity that made my skin prickle. He looked at me like he could see right through my anger to the confusing heat underneath. “Scream? Fight? I’ve handled worse. But I have to admit, watching you try is… entertaining.” My cheeks burned. I could feel my breasts heaving with each angry breath, the thin fabric of my blouse doing nothing to hide how hard my nipples were.