Romance Outline Novels & Stories

The stretch burned, but it was good, a kind of ache I couldn’t resist. “That’s it,” he coaxed, kissing my throat as he moved his finger. “Take me in, pretty girl.” Another whimper escaped me as he added a second finger, stretching me further. My hands clawed at the sheets, my hips moving helplessly against him. “Relax,” he whispered, his thumb brushing my cheek as his fingers worked me open. “I’ve got you. I just need to make sure you’re ready.” I dug my nails into his back, dragging them down, and he hissed at the sting but never slowed. His mouth found mine again, swallowing my cries, and when he finally pulled his hand away, I was panting, my body trembling.

He whispered, nuzzling the crook of her neck, "I won't do that again. Hurting you is drinking poison Rose. I have died a thousand deaths within these few months. You're my centrefold Rosie, my castles have been crumbling. I wish I had the words to express my..." Daniel's words were cut off when Rose suddenly crashed her lips into his, placing her hand at the back of his neck to savor the sweet warmness in his mouth. His hands travelled everywhere, leaving soft electric sparks of sweetness wherever he touched. Just as he removed the pillow on his back to make rose more comfortable, the door suddenly flung open, jolting them out of their sensational moment. The duo hurriedly disengaged from th

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

"I was talking about that one! Room 143!" "Room 143?" I looked at him again and he looked so pissed. "What does it have to do with us when we are at the abandoned building?" He sighed heavily before pushing me off the bed. "Go. I can't talk to you anymore. You're so slow." As soon as he said that, I finally and miraculously figured out what he wanted to say. He's using the number 143 as a way to say I LOVE YOU since I am 1 letter, Love consists of 4 letters, and You consists of 3 letters.

“Has there ever been such a match made in heaven? You are both straight into your obsessions. What are you writing, Em? Any good sex?” “I am writing my first contemporary romance,” she replied. “Let me guess, star-crossed lovers in a band?” He laughed. Owen laughed. “Does it have a happy ending?” “No, but they keep their bandmates awake in the tour bus with their rhythmic thumping,” James rocked suggestively and groaned. “Oh, Emily, f-k, f-k, f-k!” Owen flushed. “Shut up, James,” he replied without heat. “You are just jealous you can’t lure Jeremy into your bunk.”

NOTE BEFORE YOU READ….. Note before you read… The next few chapters are written in the Carolingian Renaissance and the Vikings era but don't stick to the fact. You will find a few things that have been added to fit into the story. So if you find anything strange or unusual, then remember the next few chapters are based on historical fantasy fiction books. Do add or check the other book of the author. Revenge on the Mafia lord. .. .. .. YEAR 956 AD. It was a loud night, one where the sounds of crickets chirping could not be heard and the clouds smothered the moon and stars.

I crossed my arms and glared at her until she smirked and leaned forward. “Ida will be working at the company from now on. She will go back with you two and the plan my uncles have is to build romance between the heirs of their family businesses. It is either Anthony marries you or her at the end of it all. Who knows.”

*** 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.”

Scrolling through his contacts, he sent it to the contact he had been rigorously in touch with today, Rocco. Match this for pd. He typed the text after picture, hoping to his core that it won't be a match, that the dangerous pen drive had never came in the vicinity of his wife. His gaze followed her beautifully unaware slumber, her soft snore setting the rhythm of serenity, mocking the storm that built within. His gaze inadvertently hardened on her. This needn't be this complicated. She wasn't supposed to be anything more than a woman who warmed his bed, but now as she slept carelessly, knowing that in sleep or not she ruthlessly ruled his heart, she had been more, way more than he wanted

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.