Romantic Excerpts From Novels Novels & Stories

“What are you? A slam book? How can you love yourself when you don’t even recognize love itself?” Romance never goes out of style. It does not wither or die like plants in a glimpse of summer. We fall into its captivating curse the moment we find perfection in a soul filled with flaws. The second we see beauty in the laceration of their scars and lips maneuvered by deception, we are bound to plunge into the deepest fragment of their life. The day our heart palpitates at a rapid velocity is the day we chain ourselves to an immeasurable misery.

The book store was right around the corner, enough to let Amy get few minutes of alone time. "what kind of book should I buy? These romantic novels make me feel extremely miserable about my life", she whispered. "Maybe I am on another planet unlike the characters in these books because I have never felt that way about any man before." Truly it was tiring and exhausting reading these books. Apparently, they make her expect things she would never get from Jack, thereby leaving her heart broken.

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.”

I smile sweetly at him. His eyes widen. “How is that romance?” “Well, becuase she falls in love with the new guy, and he loves her. Oh, and be warned, there’s two endings. Happy and sad. Decide the characters fate yourself.” I wink and he sighs. I watch as he opens the book ‘Tainted heat’ By Billiejo Priestley, and begins to read. It’s almost low level smut. I didn’t want to give him something where it goes too indepth, I can save that for next time.

it felt so new to you since it's Genesis the man I love and I never had sex with him. you looked into his eyes. you were turned on by his face; the raised eyebrow, the seductive eyes, the little smirk plastered on his face. oh goodness. I thought that I already moved on but I was wrong. All this time I'm still in love with him. you didn't realize that he loosened your red lace brassiere. your breath hitched, he was that damn fast. you let your straps fall to your shoulder as he slowly removes the cloth from your chest.

As they kissed, she felt like she was finally home. And as they stood there on the rooftop, with the city spread out before them and the stars twinkling overhead, Celess knew that she had found the one thing she had been searching for all her life: a love that was thrilling, dangerous, and utterly irresistible.

Athena replied, her eyes sparkling as she talked about love. "Love appears in complete voidness. It can be implicit and explicit. It's the most mysterious thing that only those who experience could define," they uttered in chorus. They were both surprised to utter the same sentiment from a romance novel. "You like reading novels too?" Scheriziel asked. "I love reading them. It makes me feel what love is. I didn't expect us to go over the same book, my lady," Athena replied. "Same goes for me. I used books as inspiration to imagine a romantic scene I used in performing."

He could smell her perfume, it was the first time he had noticed how sexual the scent was, as if was designed to attract men like a flower’s nectar attracts bees. Her face was coming nearer, her eyes connecting to his like limpets. Her mouth was ajar, her lips red like rubies. He descended the few inches which separated, his own mouth opening. They met, kissing passionately, tongues probing forward, exploring and teasing each other, their mouths trying to engulf the other, the lips both pressed together and moving around. His hands went lower over her ass cheeks, squeezing and cupping the round rump, as she too pulled him closer, her hands clamped together at the back of his neck.

Even so, the whole process feels like a battle, and I am already exhausted by the time I have the books in my hands. I still read romantic novels. There is something comforting about them, even if some of the stories hit a little too close to home. Some of the plots are eerily similar to my own life, while others are pure escapism—beautiful, heartwarming tales from start to finish. Sure, the characters face hardships and tribulations, but what always stands out to me is the love and trust between the couples. It is the kind of love that feels unshakable, the kind I used to dream about. Now, I am not so sure if that kind of love exists for me anymore.