Novel & Cerita Romantic Mystery Books

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

maybe I’d underestimated it. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky inky black, but I hardly noticed. Alessandro was somewhere nearby, probably keeping himself busy, but I was too wrapped up in the pages of this romance novel to care. This one was about some girl—Callie, who’d gotten herself mixed up with this guy, Damian, all brooding and mysterious, the type with a past that could crush him if he let it. But he was in love with her, of course. Only he didn’t say it. Not outright. No, Damian was the kind of guy who spoke in actions, not words.

I bet romance," she smiled sideways. He had a nice smile. Nate wasn't ugly at all, quite the opposite. -And I bet just because I'm a girl you think I like romance. But yes, a little bit. I prefer mystery and horror though. Dark stuff. -I looked at him. Nate was closer now. -Do you like dark things? -He wanted to know, his tone was thick and so manly, it triggered something inside me. His eyes had something in them that left me half-idiotized for a moment. I cleared my throat and came out of my trance, picking up the first book I found. It was thick, blue. It had a rather striking cover. The mysterious death of Max. That was the name of the book. It really caught my attention. -Do you like it

That would be emotional suicide. I moved away from the romance section quickly, like it might contaminate me somehow. Crime thriller. I'd read a crime thriller. Something with murder and investigations and absolutely zero sexual tension. That was safer. Much safer. I browsed the mystery section and pulled out a book I'd heard good things about. A detective novel set in London. Dark, gritty, complex. Perfect. I carried it to one of the comfortable chairs by the window and settled in. The chair was incredibly comfortable—soft leather that seemed to mold around me. There was a small side table with a reading lamp. A footstool I could put my feet up on.

​ ​The air inside the library was stale, smelling of centuries-old paper and the lingering, clinical scent of my father's cologne. ​The new locks on the mahogany doors were heavy and cold, a physical manifestation of the secrets Victor was desperate to keep buried. ​I held the small, makeshift lockpick Julian had fashioned for me, my hands trembling as I worked at the mechanism. ​Every creak of the floorboards in the hallway sent a spike of adrenaline through my veins, making it nearly impossible to focus.

A smile found my lips in the dark behind my closed eyes. Subtle. Secretive. Belonging to no one but me. I was no longer just Georgia Mason, the flawless acquisition, the diamond princess preserved and displayed and maintained to someone else's precise specifications. I had become something else tonight under a bookstore awning in the rain. Something dangerous. Something that had remembered, in the press of warm hands and a mouth that meant what it did, that it was free. She left the water on the marble. The small rebellions are where it starts. -- J

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."

When it came time to shelve the books, our great debate about how to organize them started. “This is where I had the mysteries before,” Isobel started, narrowing her eyes as if daring me to disagree. I just grinned, ready to play. “But this is a darker corner. Don’t you think mysteries should be in the darkest, most mysterious part of the room? And romances belong by the light, since they’re, you know, light and full of love with happy endings and stuff.” She blinked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You have the strangest logic I’ve ever heard.”

"A... used one?" "A romantic mystery," you said, showing her the front. "It's from the seventies, and is about a female detective who gets involved with the man who hires her to investigate his wife's murder. I'm hoping it's got Castle vibes." She broke into a smile, taking the book from you and turning it over in her hands. Then she kissed you again, on her tiptoes. "Has anyone told you that you're the sweetest?" she asked. "Not today," you smiled.

He just shut the door behind him and began gesturing into the room, his eyes dragging across every inch of her body. Isadora’s body quivered from within, the look in his eyes stirring up something rough and dangerous within her. But she shut it out. Because… she couldn’t be dripping or desiring him again, like he and his brother didn’t fucking ruin her body like she was theirs to greedily ravish. “So, you are into stuff like this?” Damian asked, raising the book that she was reading. It was a dark romance, and the title was enough introduction about what the book contained.