Romantic History Books Novels & Stories

One was a Graham Greene, the other a Wilbur Smith African adventure. ‘I’ve read this before,’ she said, indicating the Graham Greene. ‘But it was ages ago, and I wouldn’t mind reading it again. I’ve never read any Wilbur Smith.' ‘Take them both,’ he said. ‘Thanks. That’s brilliant. Don’t work too hard, will you?’ And, before any more inane remarks escaped her lips, she turned for the still-open door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Be good.’ The irony was so faint, she wasn’t even sure it was there. ‘You too’, she said, with idiotic brightness. ‘Nighty-night.’ ‘Goodnight.’ And he shut the door behind her.

"Whatever happened to love each other first then... then doing the deed after. Is everyone after physical contact only these days? What about getting to know each other first? Chivalry? Romantic date?" I sighed and stopped spinning, facing my laptop and visiting a bookstore's site to see what books sell. Ah, of course, my book wouldn't be in the top 10, and I didn't hope so; what's staring back at me is the top 10 best-selling books for the week, where five of ten are Erotic Romance books. "And I thought my company wouldn't be like other companies who are after profit; I was wrong. Then again, business is business."

The smell of new books has kept enticing a chunk of the population, albeit a smaller percentage, and mostly, people who buy from us are collectors, those who are too rich to spend money on things of the past–and that's what we offer: old, tanning books with worn out spines; a remnant of the past, a time when HarmonyMatch was never a thing. I man the register for a couple of old folks who got a stack of magazines. I smiled as they walked out the store, his hands on her shoulder, both smiling as they talked about their purchase. I thought about how they were Matched, whether they knew each other before the ceremony, if they were childhood sweethearts, or if they were familiar faces you see on

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.

I approached slowly, the heels of my boots clicking softly on the polished floor. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I skimmed my fingers across the titles etched on the spines. Tales of kings. Wars. Bloodlines. My gaze caught on a thick, weathered book left open on the desk. Its title was simple: Pack Histories and Blood Betrayals. A cold shiver rippled through me. I leaned over, my shadow swallowing the page, and began to read. At first, it was the usual: chronicles of battles, treaties, ascensions. But then, a word snared me, rooted me in place:

He never shielded me from the heartache in the pages of those books but used them as a tool to teach me about life, history, hopes, and dreams. It wasn’t until my teen years that I discovered my love of romance. What began by dipping my toes into the historical greats affectionately termed ‘bodice rippers’ took on a different tone when I was a senior in high school. I discovered the world of erotic romance. I’d always been taught that literature was a gateway for the imagination so I never dreamed that some people would frown on the romance genre as lower quality literature. After all, with a history of such utter trash like Wuthering Heights and The Old Man and the Sea being named classics,

Then she remembered- while she was exploring her room, she had seen one of the cupboards that had books in it, and she went in search of one. She found a few titles and decided to stick to some historical romance she found, about the Comanche warriors and blood moons, Texans, war and the Prairie. It was just as she sat down that she heard Charity's familiar knocking pattern. Pulling open the door, she saw her friends and ushered them in.

There, he found Kana waiting for him, her eyes filled with the same love that had ignited their hearts all those months ago. In each other's arms, they discovered that their love had not only survived the trials of time and separation but had grown stronger. Their historical romance had weathered the storms of history and emerged as a timeless love story, a testament to the enduring power of love that transcended eras and defied the constraints of fate.

What I hadn't expected was for him to try to bury me with work all of a sudden to get me off his tail. "This contains the history of our kind from the first king to the third. We went through a period when we had no monarch," the Royal Historian said, picking up a book. "This book covers the history of wolves in the days when we didn't have a stable rulership." The book she produced next was the biggest I ever saw in my life. "Am I really to read all these?" I asked, rubbing my neck. I knew there would be work to be done but these books would take months to read.

I said and pull him in the counter bar. After one hour the crowd is already wild and my head is like spinning I can feel Henry's hand on my legs and caress it seductively and kiss me on my neck and suck it gently. A moan scape to my mouth when he sucks my neck. My body starts to feel the heat and my pussy is starting to get wet. "Come on Ria," He said and carried me. He pinned me on the door and kissed me aggressively. He keeps sucking my neck down to my breast and suck my tits also.