Romantic Or Realist Novels & Stories

#Romance #Thrilling #Suspense #Action #Dramas This is going to be the best of best so don't miss any part. @Authoress Ricky Be expecting this next week readers. I love you all💓💓 Here is a blurb about the book

“We will need to do those things in public to deceive people. People on social media are smart, babe. They can sense bullshit from just posting one word. I said this before, Sandy. So, yes. The fourth rule will be; romance in public, friendship in private.” I blinked several times. One part of me was happy that I would get to do the things I've always dreamt to do with him but the other part was skeptical about the result. I would just feel like his one-night stands; we do the deed and that's all. “I think these rules will do for now. I need to go to bed and think over this,” I said, feeling tired all of a sudden. I opened the door and was about to leave when he got out of the car before me

His eyes settled on Loren with a glance that felt uncomfortably personal. She found herself wondering whether his charm was calculated or genuine. Probably both, she decided. The most dangerous people were those who could make manipulation feel like affection. When he smiled at Mariselle, the warmth seemed real. When he addressed Willa, his manner carried the respect of one courtier to another. When he looked at the Duke, however, something sharper flickered beneath the surface; recognition of a potential opponent. The real diplomatic battle, Loren realised, had just begun. *** In the evening, the great hall was transformed for the Count’s reception dinner, its usual severity softened by ban

He remembered. “Before we start,” he said, shutting the folder, “let me be clear. If you’re here to breeze through this class, leave. If you think poetry is flowery nonsense, leave. If you’re here to challenge your mind and maybe get uncomfortable…” He smiled sharply. “Then stay.” The girls sighed collectively. Some giggled behind their hands. Emmy kept her expression blank. Carl paced slowly across the room, eyes skimming the faces. “Romanticism isn’t about love. It’s about obsession. Madness. Darkness wrapped in beauty.” He stopped again in front of Emmy. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss…?”

“It’s not. I find it romantic.” “Romantic?” She was the only one who shared a different opinion. “Let me hear your take on the subject.” Thalia wiggled her eyebrows. “Romantic in the sense that you won’t allow anyone to dictate how you two will live. Romantic in the sense that it will be you against the world, but you continue choosing each other. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I mean finding the man who will accept you for who you are.” “And he will accept you regardless of the little things you can also offer. Yes. But it seemed like those only existed in romantic films. In reality, no man would not hurt you at all.”

"Are you love-struck, my friend? Because that sounds an awful lot like love at first sight." ​I slapped his hand away, feeling a flash of genuine irritation. "You know I don't believe in that garbage. Love is just a chemical trick to keep the species alive. I’m not a romantic, Karl. I’m a realist."

Still, everything he was saying unnerved and excited every fiber of my being in the same instant. I knew it was foolish. I also knew I couldn’t possibly take another round, yet here I was, winding my body with his, begging without words for him to keep going. Until this moment, I’d chalked up the romance novels I read to fantasy. Ludicrous notions of perfection that no one could achieve outside their dreams. There’s always something. A cough, a fart, even hair in the worst possible place—something jarring the all-consuming sensations back to realism. But this? This wasn’t that. He wasn’t that.

“Of what?” “Of this feeling everything… then losing it all.” He kissed her forehead softly. “Then let me show you it’s real.” His lips met hers—no contracts. No pretence. Just truth. And the line between fake and real? It shattered completely.

“I’m a discerning viewer who expects more than fill-in-the-blank characters and a predictable plot.” “Oh, please.” Daisy kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. “Exploding buildings and car chases aren’t predictable?” “You’re assuming I like action movies.” “You don’t?” “Oh, I do.” He set his empty glass down. “But you shouldn’t assume.” “But I was right.” “Whatever.” He glanced back at the TV. “Bottom line—rom-coms are wildly unrealistic. It’s always the same thing. Two people hate each other, argue nonstop, then suddenly—boom—true love.”

They were more feminine than me when we were little. If they were not my brother's, I would be glad to take them both as my husband. Don't think of me like a slut. It is how the way I am. I'm quick to fall in love with tall hot guys, and sometimes I fantasize about them in my writings, and afterward, I kill them in the end. They need to suffer pain! All the stories I've written so far are tragedies where all the main characters' guy dies. It's kind of my fetish to kill them mercilessly. I'm joking. Besides being an ugly little squirt, I love writing romance tragedy, and my favorite novel at all times is Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare. So since I read that story by the age of five, I dedicat