Romantic Hero Novels & Stories

They were fixed on the faintly glowing screen of his phone, the strange interface only he could see. The Romanticism System. The words pulsed faintly like they were alive, waiting for him to act. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his black hair. (This… isn’t normal. I’ve seen enough webnovels to know systems like this don’t just pop up for no reason. But… why me?) A translucent window flickered into view above him: [Romanticism System Active] Traits: Empathy, Idealism (Locked) Quest: “A Romantic Heart Cannot Be Shaken” – Survive three consecutive confrontations without losing hope. (Progress: 1/3)

Arabella laughed remembering the name he has in public, "But most people see you more as a romantic hero than an action star, since girls call you the nation's husband." Just then, a bike came close to her, and Xander quickly pulled her into his arms. As she found herself pressed against him, he whispered in an usual husky tone, "I don't do romance with just anyone, and also I'm not anyone's husband, still single, do you want to know more?"

Ace hung-up his words in the middle of the sentence analyzing the man standing before him who was covered with sweat all over his face. The hitman could estimate the peril behind the entrepreneur's words, who was leaning back on his executive chair with his right leg on his left knee. His eyes were as sharp as a lion before it hunted its prey. There was a kind of poise and cogency in his aura, the power in his speech that could make the person before him powerless like a deer caught in headlights. His coat was hung on the back of his seat and the crisp white shirt was folded below his elbows. The military cut dark brown hair with not a strand out of its place and high cheekbones defined him

My father was a hero cop, but I was a blemish to his shining resume as I was a delinquent who smoked, drank, and got into fights. Every time I tried to visit him at the precinct, he would slap me and tell me to leave in front of his colleagues. His fatherly love was all meant for Nana Smith, the daughter of his fallen comrade who was a paragon of good character and academic excellence. When Nana was kidnapped, he sent the entire city's officers after the kidnappers. When I was stabbed three times by some thugs and called him for help, he snapped at me, "Quit being a bother. The death of vermin like you is simply good riddance anyway." Even as I suffocated in agony, I lay in a pool of my

Roses when I'm gone Prologue Grey If you are looking for a flawless male character, this is not for you. I repeat this is not for you. If you are looking for that dashing, successful, Romantic, loving, handsome, and perfect man, I am not the one. I am far from being perfect. And if you're thinking I'm going to be somehow redeemed by some woman, sorry not sorry to burst your bubble. I am not redeemable.

Pathetic. Because I'm not the man she thinks I am. I'm not a romantic hero, nor a seductive bad boy. I'm a soldier. A tool. My hands are made to hold a weapon, to protect, to kill if necessary. Not to caress an heiress's silk skin. My scars aren't decorations. They're the stigmata of the world I'm supposed to protect her from.

Her expectations were too high for any man to meet them. Sandra wanted the handsome hero she had always read about, the knight in shining armor, the rugged and unpredictable rogue who stole the heroine’s heart and seduced her until she was mindless and satiated from the long sessions of passion and sex. That’s the type of man she was looking for, not a country boy whose only interest was playing backseat bingo, or a quick roll in the hay. She was looking for the adventurous type, handsome beyond words, a gentle instructor, the type that could do things like scuba diving on the spur of the moment and eat pasta with a strange girl from another country.

Roman's pov. I stand outside the door and listen to Scarlett list the qualities she feels would be good in a woman for me. She speaks about the height difference between me and this lady not being too much, but if she stands in front of me, her head at least reaches my collarbone. In heels, I might be able to place my chin on her head and nestle her there as I wrap my hand around her waist. “She also has to be brave and fierce. Roman is an action man. He sees something in need of doing and he does it. He needs someone who won’t pull him back, but who’ll also be brave enough to be the voice of reason when he needs one.”

„Today, may heaven be my witness, because he gave me this baby who will be called Dixon, for his name to travel the world and will be too strong defender of us, of our homeland, where he will always take revenge the enemies. Then he kissed his wife, who answered with a sweet smile and came out like a knight of the Holy Order at the door of the salon, from darkness to light, from sadness to joy, like a true nobleman full of parental love to his scent, the heir to the titles parents, a knight, strong in his father's court or among the great ladies who were ashamed of the brilliance of this demigod, but a vulnerable spider on the field of honor, crushed in his great duels by the great trumpets

No harm could come to me. If the sun didn’t shine. His mocking smile was a tilt of his lips. It was rainy season. I assume the monarch was more impressed with your efforts than you were since he knighted you. “This world’s dreamers are constantly yearning for a hero. The monarch, I believe, is just like any other man. She brazenly looked into his eyes, “Or woman,” she said. He straightened up and crossed his arms across his chest. “Portia, maybe it’s time you told me specifically what you’re looking for. Because you’ve come to the wrong spot if it’s a hero.