Romantice Stories Novels & Stories

Or that they at least, got the wrong impression of her. “They think I don’t like romance?” She asked like there was someone else in the room with her. “Well, I bet they’ve never even messed around with any guy before. They’ve probably never even gotten kissed by a hot guy before and I’m the unromantic one?” “Otherwise they wouldn’t shut up about it. I would have heard stories about it”. “I’ll show them both that I’m not what they think of me”. “I’ll find a hot guy, make out with him and have sex with him”.

Roman says surprising me with his raw honesty. “If you love a person, you will let them go. And if they love you enough, they will come back to you.” I say, trying to make Roman see reason's with me. “I'm not like other people, princess. I don't believe in fairy tales. My love is enough for both of us.” Roman says in a tone that makes me know that no amount of arguing will change his mind. I avert my eyes away from his, standing still when he kisses me gently on my forehead and makes his way back into his office.

Ryan and I had been married for three years. The first year on my birthday, he stayed at the office all night fixing a botched proposal that Katie Jones had messed up. The second year, he had to go out of town with her for a business trip on my actual birthday. And today, he left me standing alone in the pouring rain because of one phone call from her. I was still staring into space when I heard the guest room door swing open. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him walk toward me. He noticed the little smear of ice cream still on the corner of my mouth. Ryan let out a soft, resigned sigh, then grabbed a tissue and gently wiped it away.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

"You're going to help me? How? And with what?" Kento's grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am going to help you with your mission: Operation Romancing my Husband." I frowned. "Operation Romancing my Husband?" Kento nodded. "Yep. That's what you are going to do. Since you two got married without building the most important foundation, which is love, you will have to start building it from scratch. We've already got one of the ingredients: you, being madly in love with my asshole best friend. Now we only need the second ingredient, and that is to make Navid fall for you too."

he whispered. Meera snuggled closer, completely spent but deeply satisfied. In Alexander’s arms, she felt safe, loved, and utterly claimed. Their story had begun as forbidden desire between a powerful man and his young maid. Now, it was becoming something much deeper — a love that refused to be denied.

“But it’s a forbidden romance, right? We can use it—” “No,” I interrupted. “Can you just let this Cade Hunter stuff rest? Let’s talk about actual reference samples.” “But I think your story is fresh and—” “Romeo and Juliet,” I said. “That’s a classic example of forbidden romance.” “And how was their relationship forbidden?” He shot back. “Their families hated each other, yet they still fell in love. Readers were drawn to their story because it wasn’t easy love. It was yearning… tension…”

Or was it just because, by association, she had reminded him of his problems? If Anoushka’s ‘rampant thing’ remarks were anything to go by, he wasn’t languishing over a dead love. Or was he? Rampant things were not the same as love, and few men lived like monks unless they had to, because nobody would have rampant things with them. And she would stake her mortgage payments for the next ten years that Guy Hamilton would never be short of rampant thing material. It was barely nine o’clock when they finished their coffee. ‘I’m afraid I have work to do,* he said as they left the restaurant.

I smirked, "You mean like sending a text that says 'luv u' doesn't quite capture the same romantic essence?" He laughed, "Exactly. Maybe we should revive the lost art of letter writing." We continued our journey through the museum, each exhibit unraveling a different facet of love—its passion, its challenges, and its enduring nature. As we reached the section on iconic love stories from literature, Henry pointed to a display featuring Romeo and Juliet. "Classic," he remarked. "The ultimate tale of love against all odds." I playfully nudged him, "Do you see us as a modern-day Romeo and Juliet?"

Omar looked at her face The moon was glimmered its luminous on her face while her nose pin shines through it, Her white teeth biting her bottom lip while her hair was softly flowing with breeze Omar didn't realize when he started leaning towards her, feelings his closeness to her, Hana fisted his shirt, her heart jumping in hr chest. "Hana!" When their lips was inches apart, Omar called her, to ask for permission. Hana hold onto his arm tightly, not having strength to open her eyes or nod her head. Two budding flowers in lawn faced each other as moon hide itself behind clouds to spread darkness. The End