روايات وقصص ضمن Romantic Historical Books

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She should have been declared an angel for her commendable feat. She walked around the counter throwing a pile of romance books to Cain that she watched the girls in her pack read, she wasn’t going to help him choose because she wasn’t one to waste her time reading fantasies when she had more important things to think about, like how to find her parents and save them. Bet an erotic romance wasn’t going to help her in easing the swirl of emotions that she was going through at the moment. Walking past the aisles, she browsed through several historical and poetry books before her gaze fell on the aisle that was stacked with cooking books.

It's either history, military, or supernatural romances. I've never understood why so many people preferred such kinds of novels and genres all that much. Though, I meant that for the latter part. They're basically the same every single time. An average lady meets one sexy, handsome, extraordinary man, or two hot males battle over her, and there's usually some ridiculous drama that brings her further and deeper together with the men, and then she has to choose the obvious decision. Everyone had predicted her decision since the very beginning of the chapter. "And they're usually sequels or fantasy epics," I mumbled to myself.

With each stroke, her hips moved in sync with my touch, craving more of the pleasure I was offering. Her fingers tangled in my hair as she arched her back, surrendering to the sensations that consumed her. Her gasps grew louder, mingling with the rhythm of our bodies moving in unison. The room filled with the intoxicating scent of our desire, a heady mix of sweat and passion. Our hearts beat in harmony, a symphony of love and lust that echoed through the air. With her, nothing else mattered. I was lost with her, and so was she.

I say. I hope so. I really hope he’s right. I look at the clock on the wall and it says 1:48PM. I open my laptop and I start to read. The book I have to read is actually a historical book based on arts and crafts in the 18th century. It’s not a romance novel, so forgive me if I’m not very excited to read it. I could read 600 pages of a romance or horror novel, but my reading assignments are just not inviting enough.

Or a library on steroids. When she reached the romance section, she had to restrain a squeal of delight when she found an array of old-school romances from the seventies and eighties in their bodice-ripping glory: in rainbow hues, the covers depicted men with bulging arms, their shirts open to the wind as women swooned in their arms. Some of the women stood in the strangest poses; Lucy had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling like an idiot.

She is smiling like she found something that just made her day. “What’s with the books?” Romy bounced onto the bed, “First, the romance book section in your library is awesome. We totally need to check it out together. Second, I got these pack law books. These are the first two of four.” I smiled. Of course, she had already gone to the library. Her weapon is her mind and sharp tongue. She uses them well, too. “Did you find something interesting?”

The lantern cast her shadow long and warped against the wall, stretching her thinner than she really was. There was something on the table. She hadn’t left it there. Ben felt the spike of fear the moment her eyes landed on it. A ribbon. It lay coiled neatly beside the lamp, pale blue, clean and new. Completely out of place in the modest, worn-down room. Her breath hitched as she reached for it, fingers hovering just above the fabric. She hadn’t owned anything like this. Her chest tightened. She picked it up, the silk cool and unfamiliar against her skin. It smelled faintly of something sharp and foreign, like leather and smoke.

Chapter 3 I stood in the centre of all the books in the library, my fingers trembling as I flipped through another ancient history book, the pages brittle under my touch. The ink bled in places, the words looked smudged with how old they looked, but the message was clear…royalty must marry royalty. Always. Without exception.

“Do you want me to tell you about my mermaid?” “First, explain why you read books when your friend is visiting.” “Because we both like reading? What kind of question is that? You read constantly. You should understand.” “I read when I’m alone.” “That’s only half the fun. She reads really filthy books about bikers and mafia bosses, and I read historical romances full of ball gowns and elaborate courtship rituals. Then we read each other the best passages.” She was getting animated now, hands moving as she talked. “So Daphne ’s contributions are like ‘Jax and Teague ripped my clothes off and we had this insane threesome and I came five times,’ and mine are full-page descriptions of flowers blo