Romantic Era Novels Novels & Stories

Alarmed, Asty slowly crouched in the corner to peek. There he was, the once faceless Count of Erana. Once. Because from that day forward when he made his identity known, he was no more faceless. Chaol Dreemur XII is the literal meaning of divine perfection. Asty's face softened upon realizing that it was only him. The count had been inside the library this whole time, reading a book under the moonlight. No candles, no chairs. He was merely standing, leaning at the bookshelves with a calm expression on his face as he read the novel in his hands.

he asked. She thought for a second. “Ones that have happy endings.” “A romantic?” he asked. She never considered herself one. “I like noir—but the stories where the boy gets the girl in the end. Or vice versa.” “Top shelf,” he told her, indicating the back room. She went there and waited. What if he followed? What would that mean? She’d been out of the dating loop since she’d landed her current job, the one that had sucked up all her time, her mind, her soul, her life. Her fingers trailed over the broken spines of misused paperbacks, and she hoped he would follow her. But what would she say? What would she do?

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.

He forced himself to ask as he trailed wet kisses down the nape of her neck. She rolled her eyes. "Why do you keep spoiling the mood, Ryder?" This time she rolled over, pinning him to the bed and she let her hand guide his prick into her tight hole. Ryder had his eyes shut for a while, this was explicitly satisfying. He had never made love to a woman so he would in the past never be able to describe that scintillating feeling elicited from a romance. When she started to buck against him, he thought he would lose his senses. He was floating on cloud nine and needed as much time not to get lost in the abyss.

Then, it just froze and asked Ernesta back, “Weird how?” “Don't you think it's kind of illogical?” After checking its system data, 001 came up with an answer, “Did you forget, master? This is a romance novel world, and romance novels don't need to make too much sense. All the stuff that happens is just meant to make the main characters fall in love.” Ernesta had never read a romance novel, so she didn't get it. But she had a completely different explanation than 001.

For just a second, I caught a glimpse of pain flickering across his face before it vanished behind his usual icy facade. "The wedding's next month," he said. "Nora needs a bridesmaid." Nora Hunter. The girl who had shown up out of the blue three months ago, 20 and all sunshine with her blonde hair and blue eyes, clueless about the shadows in the world. Francis had welcomed her into the mansion, showered her with jewels, and paraded her around at every high-society event. Francis kept whispering sweet nothings to me, even as he was gearing up to marry someone else.

Seeking gratification before marriage was forbidden, and even then, her focus should be on her husband’s release, not her own. But she liked the way goosebumps spread across her skin as her fingers moved. She watched, transfixed, as her soft nipples hardened to rosy peaks beneath her touch. Her boldness grew as did her desire. She pinched her left nipple and startled at the sound that escaped her. A moan. Soft, breathless, unfamiliar. She had never made that sound before. She loved it. Heat bloomed inside her, spreading through her chest and settling low in her belly. Her breathing grew shallow, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. Her cheeks were dusted with the prettiest

A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night. A shrill voice announced, "The time has come. Let the bride enter!" A black carriage, lavishly decorated yet unsettling, rolled in slowly. The door opened, and a bride in a blood-stained wedding dress stepped out gracefully. "Where's my groom?" George hurried over, waving for the puppets to drag me away. He pointed at the players seated at a long table. "My lady, please take a look. Which one do you favor?" The bride lifted her veil. Blood slid down her face like melting wax. Her crimson eyes swept across the crowd. "I'm not satisfied with any of them. Not a single one looks pleasing."

I needed to cut her off. "Look, they're doing the walking around the fire thing." She said. I hummed non committal. "I read about it in this book by Drethi Anis. Five thousand nights of obsession. The book was so good." "You read?" I asked. I had never seen any book in her apartment or caught her with a book. "Yes." She blushed, then quietly. "Romance books." "You don't strike me as the romance type." I looked at her intently. "Is it one of those raunchy books with shirtless men carrying scabbards on the cover."

The Nouveau-Riche Romance Chapter twenty-nine The brightness of the day filtered into the room. Illuminating it with its soft glow. The illumination was just enough to rouse Joan from sleep. Her body felt relaxed, she felt mellow really. It felt like she was coming down from a drug high. No, it was a sex high. Sex? Sex... Joan abruptly opens her eyes as she remembered the events of the previous night. She had sex with Asher. Now that she thought about it it was a crazy night and she wouldn't believe it if she hadn't experienced it.