Romantic Sad Books Novels & Stories

Jacqueline’s POV Allison and I had been sprawled on her couch for hours, pretending to care about the romantic book review playing on TV. The set was drenched in soft gold lighting, all pastel backdrops and floating petals in the corners of the screen. A poised host with hair so perfectly coiffed it looked like a helmet was dramatically reading out a passage about “the moment two souls recognized each other in the quiet of chaos,” while her co-host nodded with exaggerated solemnity, as if they’d both just witnessed a miracle.

His warm hands on my face and his closeness set my body ablaze with my feelings for him, coupled with the soft words he was uttering. “Sandy,” he said softly and rubbed my cheekbones with his thumb. “I… After understanding what my heart is feeling… Sandy… I…” My heart hammered faster every second. Blood rushed through my body at a speed that my head started to get light. I was anxious to hear what he had to say. A part of me dreaded separation and the other part of me remained positive. “I know I’m the worst at romance, but this is me pouring my heart out.” He gulped. “Sandy… I… I love you.”

“Can I even complain? What do you think I should do?” No reply. Just constant movement. I turned to Roxy. “What about you Roxy?” She yawned then licked at my hands. “Sorry if I'm boring you. I don’t have that much entertainment to offer besides these crappy romance novels” —I raised a red hard cover book I was with— “that are crazily interesting. The stakes are absolutely ridiculous but honestly I have to fuel the delusional antics because I picked them up. And I'm sure you’re tired of hearing me talk about them already.”

A/N Thank you for your continued support. Hope you enjoyed this short, completed and simple love story. Just a feel good romance, where there aren't any villains, only misunderstandings and a lot of loving. A list of books I have written: *A Rancher's Fall (Romance) *A Chance At Love (Romance) *A Alpha's Chance At Love (Werewolf Romance) A reminder that all my books are mature. I accept constructive criticism, bullying in any forms is unacceptable.

The urge to know more about her spurs me forward as I spin and face the rest of her room. Bare beige walls and a bookshelf that is full of books staring back at me. Most of the books look brand new and have never been touched except for three. As I move closer to the shelf, fingering along the three well-loved books with fraying spines, I realize Sarah was a romantic. Each book describes a girl whose life altered drastically and who was saved by a handsome prince or man of status. All stories are morbidly opposite to the life she is living with a mate who couldn’t save her from her living nightmares.

“Then Damon’s an idiot. Reading is the cheapest form of therapy.” They split up, each wandering an aisle. Mya found herself in the romance section—rows of pastel covers with soft titles. Her hand brushed one spine, then another, until she stopped on a novel about a woman who rebuilt her life after betrayal. The blurb made her chest ache. She added it to her armful without thinking. When she found Trina again, her friend was crouched near the bottom shelf, flipping through a poetry book. “You ever notice how love poems are just heartbreak written before it happens?” Trina said absently.

Samantha "With ....bringing me ten cups of coffee,answering all the calls I have to take on the front desk ,going through all the old files my former assistant didn't do correctly" he finished handling me a bunch of files I didn't even realize he was holding. I stood there in shock ,what was I expecting a kiss? Those wattpad romance book have really gotten into my head. He looked at me with his piercing green eyes ,I looked down having trouble maintaining eye contact with him,moving from foot to foot.

I can't deny that Ronald give a huge impact to me this day that I feel so empty and sad. What's with this guy? Why are my feels affected when it comes to him? He's a nobody. He's handsome but he's far from Alqamar. But why is he distracting my mind? I sighed and walked inside the bookstore. I swallowed hard and went to the last bookshelves so that I can sit there and rest a bit. I sat down on the ground and lean my back to the bookshelve. I put my arms on top of my knees and lean my forehead over it and from there...my shoulders started to quiever as my tears continuously fall from my eyes.

I am aware that he is like looking at my face for a long time and is keep on glancing at me. “Ahmmnn a book entitled Wuthering Heights by Emily Bonte, Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens, and hemmnn Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” I said as I look into the books there. “I see, those are rare books now since they are old and people nowadays don’t like sad and pure narration stories.” Henry said and I just nod. Henry is now helping me through the pile of books. It was almost 30 minutes yet we haven’t found one of the 3 books.

Men are so easy. I set the box on my kitchen counter, the weight of it thudding against the marble. No return address, just my name scrawled in messy, impatient handwriting: Sadie. The tape peels back with a sharp rip, and I lift the flaps to find black tissue paper cradling something long, and thick.