Romantic Bed Time Stories Novels & Stories

Livia Lumiere Carlos is a beautiful lady. Others were always deceiving and tricking her. She had difficulty on their hands. Others used her as an errand girl - their slave - while mocking her behind her back for her brilliant mind, commitment, and innocence. But when her husband cheated on her with her best friend, she decided enough was enough. However, Livia died of a sudden heart attack with her dying wish to turn back time. "Whoever stands in my way, I will mercilessly trample them," she promised. "Livia, the slave and errand girl, is no more."

On my 22nd birthday, my uncle Scott discovered my diary. After he found out about my secret love for him, he sent me overseas. He then spent hundreds of thousands, marrying the love of his life.

Be careful! You are entering a hot area! Under-age, forbidden to read! For those who like romance, you must read this story! Cho Ye Joon—Gumiho who came to the future of Indonesia through the thunderbolt without sound. . “Give up, you gadfly Gumiho!!” the man shouted in front of him. "Cho Ye Joon," the man said, the signal giver approached. Possessing the body of an Archeology student named Nevan Taksan. He was trying to find a way out for return to his past. "Are you embarrassed?" Nevan asked spreading the corners of his lips. Bellona stopped when she was already covered by Nevan's Coat, and was stunned by her appearance. "Nevan?" Bellona said quietly. "Let me take you home!" broke up Nevan. A swarm of enemies comes upon him and traps Cho Ye Joon, his friend and girlfriend—Nevan into another world, with objects are found with Korean history books. He did everything he could to find a way out. Luckily, a Gumiho guard remains in the same world. Through the mind and soul of that world, he was able to find the fox marble. Where the Fox marble is in Bellona's body—Nevan's girlfriend, the reincarnation of a woman from his past. Can the Gumiho save himself with the two people from another world? Cover by : @nobidesign

During Christmas break, my boyfriend, Trevor Hayes, asks me to stop by and feed the dog that his childhood friend, Evelyn Summers, keeps at her place. I bring a bag of kibble over. But the second I open the door, a huge pit bull lunges at me and bites into my face and arms. Luckily, a neighbor hears me screaming and pulls me out of its jaws, but the damage is already done. The scars will stay with me forever. I break down, but Trevor blames me instead. "You must've done something wrong when you fed Mojo and set him off. You just got a scar, but Mojo's dead!" The weight of it all crushes me until I climb a rooftop and jump. After dying, I see Trevor holding Evelyn in his arms. "Honey, you're so clever. Starving Mojo for a few days really worked. Now, she's dead. We can finally be together." When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Trevor asks me to go feed that dog.

As the only daughter of a casino magnate, I have grown up surrounded by danger and betrayal. To keep me safe, my father has raised nine bodyguards from a young age. After I come of age, he asks me to choose one of them as my fiance. Everyone expects me to pick Harry Hunt, the man I have secretly loved for years. But I do not—not after what happened in my previous life. On the day of our engagement, I was kidnapped, and my hands were pierced with poison-tipped spikes. Tortured and desperate, I called Harry for help. His response still haunts me today. "Victoria, stop with these games. Your location shows you're still in the hotel suite. Trying to pull these pity stunts just to keep me to yourself? Pathetic." With another woman laughing in the background, I closed my eyes and gave up. As the iron cage sank beneath the waves and the sea filled my lungs, my life ended. Then, I open my eyes and find myself back on the day my father asked me to make a choice. This time, Harry's name is the first I cross off the list. But why is he crying and begging me to marry him at my engagement banquet with Jeffrey Reed?

“Don't you guys feel sorry for her?” “She's just a cheap slut that begs for me every night,” a man that looks exactly like her fiancé said with a smirk. Eleanor just found out that her fiancé was a twin and her bedmate was his twin brother. Her caring fiancé by day was different from the one filled with desires at night. ********* Eleanor dated her fiancé for four years and decided to get married to him, but she was just a pawn in his revenge games. What will she do when she finds out that the man she has been sleeping with was her fiancé’s secret twin brother, not her fiancé?

A week before summer break, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart threw a fit, insisting on going to Tanond to watch a strip show. She even convinced our entire class to go with them. I kept warning them that it was not safe, that it could be some kind of new scam, and begged them not to go. When they refused to listen, I secretly reported it to the police. On the day of their departure, the police stopped them right at customs. A few days later, a male stripper suddenly went viral overnight. When she found out about it, she got so furious her eyes turned red. “It’s all Zoey’s fault! If it weren’t for her, we could’ve seen an international superstar's strip show!” On the first day we went back to school, they drugged me and made ten men teach me how to dance. “Didn’t you stop us from watching a strip show? Then you can perform one for us yourself.” The next day, my photos of strip show were all over social media. After that, I jumped off a building out of despair. When I opened my eyes again, it was once again the day his little sweetheart demanded that trip to Tanond.

I tried to hide this secret. But wanting him burned inside me like a fever I could not shake. He is my best friend's brother. The one I should never touch. The kind of guy who could break you without trying. Every girl wanted him. So did I. He was my secret. My late-night fantasy. The one I craved but never dared to want out loud. Then one night, he looked at me like he finally saw me. Touched me like I was the only girl in the world. And just like that, I stopped pretending. Now we are stuck in something messy… Lust, secrets, and stolen nights. I know I should walk away. But I cannot breathe without him. I loved him quietly for years. Now I am his secret. And maybe the next girl he would break her heart. Can I stay alive without him? These feelings would kill me alive.

On the way home during the holidays, my fiance's sister-in-law, Pamela Kensington, brings out an electric pot that requires 2,000 watts in order to function so that she can cook some meatballs. "The sockets in the electric car are meant for us to use, no? If we can't have hot food during our trips, then what's the use of having an electric car in the first place?" My fiance, Mason Vance, who is driving, doesn't bother to stop Pamela. Instead, he helps her fill up the pot with water while smiling. In my previous life, I had strictly stopped them from cooking meatballs and told them that we didn't have enough power left in the electric car. If they were to cook the meatballs, the car would stop in the middle of the journey, and we wouldn't be able to make it home. Pamela, who tagged along for the ride, thought that I refused to let her son have a piping hot meal, so she began criticizing me. Mason, on the other hand, thought that I was being too much of a busybody. He slapped me in front of everyone before pushing me out of the car. I was frozen to the bone in the blizzard as I watched everyone else leave me behind happily. In the end, I died from hypothermia. When I woke up again, I realized I'd returned to the moment when Pamela is about to plug the electric pot into the socket. This time, I hand her a power strip. "Go ahead and use this power strip. It can channel more power for your meatballs to cook quickly."

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.