Romantic Books That Will Make You Cry Novels & Stories

Ember's cheeks were flushed with tears, and her fingers gripped the book tightly in her hand. She had read a hundred books before, but none had ever moved her to tears like the one she's currently reading. As she turned the pages, she felt as if the characters were close to her and that their struggles were her own. The author's words had a special way of reaching deep into her heart and stirring emotions she never knew existed. Using a tissue from her bedside table, she dried her damp cheeks.

Okay now 😢😢😢😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭. This is the end. Don't forget to comment and vote for the final chapter!❎ -Rama There are a couple Werewolf books up on my Instagram profile. ✴To be the second ✴The Tales Of A Pregnant And Rejected Luna ✴The Bad Boy Is A Werewolf ✴His Hidden Child ✴Maid For the alpha Some Romance Fantasy ✴Winter's storm ✴ Within The Flames Of Anger And many other genres I think you'll enjoy. Check them out! And do bring forget to give me some feedback.

He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely. “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling. That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced hims

#Romance #Thrilling #Suspense #Action #Dramas This is going to be the best of best so don't miss any part. @Authoress Ricky Be expecting this next week readers. I love you all💓💓 Here is a blurb about the book

So I’d brought actual recreational reading – the kind with swoony romance and emotional devastation instead of clinical diagrams. “Listen to this,” I said, looking up from my book. “He took her hands in his, his voice barely above a whisper: ‘I have loved you since the moment you stumbled into my library, covered in rain and righteous indignation. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?’” “That’s terrible,” Alonzo said without looking up from his laptop. “It’s romantic!” “It’s predictable.” “Predictable can be comforting. Not everything needs to reinvent the wheel.”

After all, I saw it in her eyes. The last thing I noticed was the name of her book 'Power of the pussy'. I had heard people say that artists are always beautifully insane, and the most tattered and torn hearts created the best holistic works of art. That included writers. I wondered if Lydia was a writer and what could she have possibly gone through to be tattered and torn. I wanted to know what inspired her, what she loved, what ignited her passion. Since meeting her I could not stop thinking about her. Images of her tied to my four-poster bed invaded my mind on my way home. I thought of her full lips wrapped around a ball gag and her beautiful eyes looking up at me, dilated and desperate.

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

Roses, a white dress, the guests, the sunshine: it all felt so vivid, yet so surreal. His gaze landed on the empty spot where the bridesmaid should have been, and it all clicked why that seat was unoccupied. Natalie was gone. She was gone forever. She had taken her life. She had done that with his unborn child when she leapt from the 18th floor. It was all because he tampered with her medicine, because he dared her to prove her true love, and because of his whispered lies of forever and always. He did everything to win her heart.

“IT–IT CAN’T BE!” Rosa began ripping books down. Thick volumes crashed around the feet of the chair. She choked on her sobs, hands trembling as she threw them all, one after another into the flood, crying like a mad woman. Pages fluttered open like gaping mouths whispering secrets she didn’t want to hear. Rosa climbed down and sank onto her knees, dropping herself in between the dark books. “I don’t believe it!” she wailed, hands clawing through the open pages. “I don’t–I don’t believe it!”

But Arabella’s heart had already begun beating far too quickly. A breeze moved softly through the marketplace between them. Neither spoke for several moments. Then Edwin finally gestured toward the bookstore. “Do you enjoy reading?” “Yes.” “What sort of books?” Arabella hesitated. “Poetry mostly.” One dark brow lifted slightly. “Romantic poetry?” Her cheeks warmed instantly. “Sometimes.” Edwin looked dangerously amused again. “You continue to surprise me, Lady Arabella.” “And you continue mocking me.” “Only because you blush so beautifully.” The words escaped him so naturally that both of them froze afterward.