Romantic Novels To Read の小説・ストーリー

This is going to be nice, I just know it. I spend hours cooking, snacking, reading, and it feels like a dream. My fae romance novel takes me to a land that doesn’t resemble my life and I’m so happy to lose myself in it. I’m reading along happily when I come across a word that strikes me dead. Mates. Great. Just what I was trying to forget about. I put it down and pull out the other book I brought, a historical fiction novel. No mates here, no way. Dinnertime creeps around and I spend a while making a nice risotto with a side salad and garlic bread. It’s so good it borders on s*x.

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.

My house seemed the perfect fit for me, and I liked that it was a bit tucked away from things so I could enjoy my privacy somewhat as well, without hearing the hustle and bustle of the pack house even after hours. Washing my face quickly I grabbed my latest read, a romance novel of course because what girl doesn't desire some romance in her life? Even if it can only be found in the pages of a book. The cover displayed the typical damsel in distress in the arms of a rugged looking man, your usual romance trope if you will. Still, I could easily get lost in these sorts of novels for hours, fantasizing about a man I had yet to meet and wondering when I would. Not having a mate at my age (24) wa

"Ryder, she was in shock to see him Kara had just nestled herself into the plush cushions of the cozy reading nook, lost in the captivating world of a steamy romance novel. The room was filled with the soft glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate aura that matched the allure of the pages she held. the story whisked her away to a world of passion and desire, Kara's heart soared with anticipation. With each turn of a page, she fell deeper into the embrace of the characters, their love unfurling before her eyes. The crackling fire in the hearth added to the romantic ambiance, heightening her immersion in the story's embrace.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur, and I do my best to focus, but I’m way off my game. My mind is teeming, my body strangely energized, and I make a vow right then and there that I need to stop reading so many damn romance novels. I read one or two a day, fully immersed in the escapism it brings me, and I think they’re getting to my fucking head. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, but it wasn’t until I hit my senior year in high school I discovered romance. I’ve been a complete addict ever since. But this obsession has not served me well, especially since my particular tastes these days are always the kinky variety involving handcuffs and safewords and dominants.

So I’d brought actual recreational reading – the kind with swoony romance and emotional devastation instead of clinical diagrams. “Listen to this,” I said, looking up from my book. “He took her hands in his, his voice barely above a whisper: ‘I have loved you since the moment you stumbled into my library, covered in rain and righteous indignation. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?’” “That’s terrible,” Alonzo said without looking up from his laptop. “It’s romantic!” “It’s predictable.” “Predictable can be comforting. Not everything needs to reinvent the wheel.”

And for a minute, I just sit there, glaring at the ceiling like it owes me rent. Then, I glance to my right. And there it is. The only good thing about today. Devil’s Muse. A thick, absolutely sinful romance novel I pulled from the stack of books Janet got from the hospital library. The kind that has zero shame and maximum plot twists. The kind that doesn’t ask me to heal or forgive myself or do the inner work. No. This book asks me to shut up and watch the enemies-to-lovers pair absolutely ruin each other emotionally and then physically—with very vivid, very illegal levels of detail.

“Did you just cheat on your girlfriend with me?” “Relax, Raven. I’m single and you know that. What you don't know though is that you are the only girl I want to kiss, birthday or not. I couldn't help staring at your lips earlier. That and the fact that you look so beautiful while sleeping I feel guilty about waking you up.” Is the world coming to an end? Niklaus is confessing his feelings to me? Niklaus is saying sweet words to me? I want to scream. This can't be happening.

Nora brought white roses when she visited me in the hospital. She fumbled with the flowers, accidentally tipping over the vase and spilling water everywhere. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Natalie," she babbled, scrambling to clean up the mess. "I didn't mean to do that." "It's fine," I said, even though nothing really was. She sat down, nervously fiddling with the edge of her skirt. It was a fancy Chanel, a present from Francis, but I was the one who had picked it out. "Natalie, have you and Francis been at it again?"

she asked. “Are you going to run off? If you come back, I can promise you everything. I can give you sex and anything your heart desires.” He couldn’t give her everything. There was a reason she read so many romance novels, and it wasn’t because it was what women did. She read them out of yearning. The books were her one way of getting a happy ending. In life, she had come to learn it doesn’t always have a happy ending. “I’ll come back,” she said.