Romance Times Novels & Stories

He ran his fingers through her hair and jerked it back, forcing her to look up. “Forgive me, Angel,” Ricardo reluctantly pleaded. His gaze swept over her beautiful face with a hint of regret. “I have other urgent matters to attend to.” Ricardo sealed his apology with a deep kiss on Angel's red lips. He groaned. Pleasure echoed in Ricardo's chest, especially when Angel's fingers caressed his flaccid masculinity. “I will be leaving for a while. Did I already pay for the entire night?” Ricardo grinned. “No worries. Consider it a bonus for this,” he said, patting Angel's buttocks. “Next week, I'll be back.”

Willow Five Years Later What exactly is romance? Is it like a movie moment where he runs to the airport after realising she was the one he loved after all? Or is it her finding his letters that her mother had hidden after all this time? It could be either of those, but for me, it’s a cupcake presented to you on your birthday morning, a simple ‘good morning, beautiful’ text or the ever-popular ‘let me know when you get home’ sentence.

[Francis Davis, 1990-2023] No final words of wisdom and no heartfelt farewells. Just the dates marking the beginning and end of their stories, with a tiny dash in between to represent everything in between. That tiny dash was their whole world. They fell hard for each other, fought fiercely, and in the end, they went down together.

Everyone says love doesn't depend on gender until they actually see a man and a man in a romantic relationship or a woman and woman in a romantic relationship and you will start hearing lots of preaching and how it's not good bullshit. I will switch off my phone, and since Roman and I relationship is already out, I might as well enjoy it. It's not like there is anything I can do about it. Just as I was about to get out of Netgram, a comment popped up that caught my attention. “ Wait, wasn't Roman once married to that elite actress Celeste Morrow but they got divorced quite easily? I saw that, I think eight years ago.” Wait?! What's that supposed to mean? Roman was never married! I will not a

We would enjoy an unhindered, spicy, romantic moment. My eyes shifted towards the direction of the clock on the wall, during this brief moment he dropped the phone. It was evening. 5:08 PM. I looked over the window where the curtains were parted, it was getting darker. From this part of Venice, night comes faster. A spicy thought came to mind. I blushed. Zavian was confused at first. “You're checking the time?” He asked and I nodded. “Yes.” Night romance and sex hits are different. I just wanted it to link into the night.

There were racks of clothes. My father was standing by the window, talking into a phone. He looked at me and pointed to a chair. "Sit. We don't have much time." I sat. A woman with a headset walked over to me. "I'm Abby from the PR team. We need to move fast. The morning news cycle starts in six hours. We need the “Proof of Romance” package ready by then." "Proof of romance?" I asked. My voice felt dry. "Chloe is in the dressing room," Abby said, ignoring my question. "She’s ready. We’re going to do three sets of photos. One casual, one semi formal, and one official.”

Public displays of affection hhhmmm I love them. Our dinner, as usual, is merely an excuse for us to be together in a quiet romantic setting. You see, it's not the food we seek here but the atmosphere. A quiet table near the back where we still can see the sunset but are afforded our own privacy for love. They know us here; after all, this is a weekly gesture for us.

He tells me while he sees his ties. “Ouch!” I say angrily. “What nonsense.” I said, very upset by what he just told me. “The best thing you can give to a dead person is to always remember them for what they were. “This is not a movie, Miss Jefferson.” He tells me, looking at me seriously. “It could be a movie, don't you believe in what happens in romantic movies?” I asked him, confident that the world is not so bad and maybe it can be as beautiful as movies.

"Nanny, please. Don’t remind me. I’m trying to forget that ever happened." "Forget? Oh no, my dear. You can't forget something like that. This is fate, darling! You slept with him, and now he’s your boss? You couldn't write a better romance novel if you tried!" she exclaims, practically bouncing in her seat. I stab at my food. "This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself."