Romantic Or Realist Novels & Stories

“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

he shrugs taking a sip from his glass to drink. “So you mean to tell me that it’s purely transactional between you? That girl has a piece of ass on her why not get a taste of that?” “Because I’m not interested in romance, I want to become the greatest Ryder to ever have existed, besides She is a spoilt sensitive girl who knows nothing about real life”

After a silence between both of them, which transports them to highlights of their time together, Bruce kind of breaks the nostalgic moment, “But anyway, in one word... define Romantic...” “I see it like a box of chocolate, just one of those assortments that mom brought every time she came back from a trip. In our land, all people have practically one flavor. This is a well-assorted box...” excited.

" In the backseat, Stacy listened in on all this in sullen silence. Apparently, Joseph was the sort of guy who made countless romantic gestures for the girl he liked, and never missed even the tiniest details. In the rearview mirror, she could see that his ears had gone red. Charlotte was bringing up stories from ages ago… did he still feel so strongly about those moments, even now? But then again, this was his first love, innocent and pure. They arrived at a pub, and Stacy found herself a hiding place in the corner. Meanwhile, Joseph took a seat beside Charlotte, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her, so she could use it as a