Romantic Novels Must Read Novels & Stories

25 March 1820 Rome, Italy Jacob was lounging on a chair and Mrs. Valentina Lombardi, the most sought after courtesan in Rome was sprawled on his lap, her lush body pressed to his as she tried to coax a reaction out of him. He knew all the other men watching him envied him. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the act. Instead of finding her perfume enticing, he found it cloying. The smoke from the cigars made him feel suffocated.

"Natalie, get ready. Francis wants you at the club tonight." "No way," I said. "He insists. You're going." Nora stepped in, voice hushed as she said, "Mr. Collins will be there too. He said...it's your chance." I eyed her. "Chance for what?" "Your ticket out." She slipped me a note with an address and a time. "Stick to the plan." I gripped the note, nodding once. ... The Davis family's club was a playground for the high-stakes crowd, a haven for the allied families' vices.

“You need to go, Scarlett. Now.” She nodded, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and a thrilling, defiant heat. She turned and fled. It did nothing to quell the storm he had unleashed inside her. The memory of the kiss, the possessive grip of his hands, the wrecked sound of his voice, it was too much to process, yet a hunger had been awakened that demanded more. The following week, there was a seminar on power asymmetries in the modern novel felt like a special kind of torture. The subject matter which once would have been a purely intellectual exercise, now felt like a personal, pointed critique.

] Who wanted to read those! Just as she was about to refuse, Christina had already sent back a long list—all links. Just from the titles alone, it was obvious they were steamy billionaire romance novels. Christina, how old are you to still be obsessed with billionaire romance novels!

“Why is it so dark? Please, turn on the lights, Anth.” I hesitated before pressing the soft buttons of the light switch and then the room brightened up. I heard her gasp first before my eyes took in the rose petals and unlit candles on the floor and on various pieces of furniture in the living room. My eyes scanned the room and spotted more rose petals, even the ones leading to the bedroom. The romantic setting of the place made my nervousness spike higher than before. “Did you do this?” I pushed every ounce of nervousness from my body and approached her then wrapped my arms around her shoulder. I placed my face against hers then kissed her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin and inhalin

It was Brayan and someone else. Could that be his office? But it was on the other side of the house. I made a mental note to ask Elowen when next I saw her. I looked through the shelves searching for the perfect book to read. There were so many and I was confused on the one to choose. Nevaeh always mentioned romance was the best but I knew romance has a lot of cheesy things. I wanted more of action with a bit of romance and lots of erotica. I picked out a worn out book. A man and a woman in a sensual position but the name had been torn out.

“Treason, Nana. Treason." “It does not matter. We need to find where I belong or what I am.” She goes on again, rambling. I wish I could exchange her for a more understanding wolf. Pushing my hair to the back of my ear, I flip the page of the new book and read through each line. I roll my eyes and scoff. Romance. How can a character’s first interest be about a man? Doesn’t she love coins? Food? Fashion, or even education? Why must it be a man?

"Explain. Now." "There's nothing to explain." "The first one looked like he'd kill for you. This one looks like he'd die for you. And you're standing here looking like you don't know which one you want. That's not nothing. That's the plot of every romance novel I've ever read." I stared at her. "You read romance novels?"

Most of them were what I expected—books on strategy, history, a few on Italian mafia politics. And then, tucked on the bottom shelf, almost hidden— "You weren't kidding about these?" I pulled one out, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" "Put that back." "The Duke's Dangerous Desire," I read aloud, grinning. "A Rake's Redemption. The Highlander's Captive Bride—" "Jameson." Her voice was sharp, but I could hear the embarrassment underneath. "Put them back." "I'm not judging," I said, turning to face her. "I'm just surprised. You kill people for a living, but you read romance novels?"

At the bottom of the shelf, though, were a handful of romance novels—in English, no less. I pulled out a historical romance by a favorite author of mine. I hadn’t read this one, and I’d already finished the one romance I’d brought with me. I was a total bore and preferred to read printed books still. Probably because they smelled nice. If e-readers could let out a puff of new-book scent, though, I’d buy one in a heartbeat. “The Seduction of Miss Emily Morris,” Olivier read over my shoulder. “That rather gives the plot away, no?”